What goes on must come off.

I decided that I would take action on one of my New Year's "I Would Like To's" (I never call them resolutions because I would be dooming myself to failure) and try to lose some weight.  I know that I must cut down on my eating and increase my exercise.  We have a contraption upstairs called  a gazelle edge, I think, that I'm going to use.  The last two nights I've spent about 25 minutes on it.  I know that in walking, twenty minutes gets you a mile.  I go farther on this thing because it's faster, but it also doesn't cause as much strain.  I have lived a sedentary lifestyle and it needs to change.  I'm too much of a reader and a writer, so I don't get much exercise.  I figure if I start exercising it will help my weight, but it will also help my moods because exercise does help moods.

Usually when I finally set my mind to doing something, I do it.  I tried quitting smoking several times until one day I just set my mind on doing it.  I used a nicotine patch for a few days, and one day I forgot to put it on.  The day went fine, I survived, and I never touched another cigarette.  I have on occasion smoked a cigar when I've gotten involved in a friendly poker game, but that's it.

I didn't get any writing accomplished today, but I plan to later.  I've got to get caught up on my school work.

Well, I will sign out.  It's almost bed time.

I love music

Linda Ronstadt

I love music.  All kinds are enjoyable to me.  I like country, classical, rock, alternative -- if there's a label, I have probably listened to it.  I have about 1,300 songs on my iPad2 and on numerous other devices, not to mention owning CD's and yes, even a few cassette tapes.  In a few minutes I'll be loading music onto my mp3, and it could be anything.  Waylon and Willie?  Love em.  Katy Perry -- she has some great music.  Bob Seger -- Feel Like a Number speaks to me.  The Boss?  Got him too.  Pink Floyd.  Any Shania Twain and Taylor Swift fans out there?  I also have Beyonce, Christina Aguilera, Rihanna along with Linda Rondstadt and Emmy Lou Harris.  Donovan lurks somewhere; as does Robbie Robertson and the Beatles.  I have some music for the mind that is supposed to foster creativity, some classical music, Enya, Blackmore's Rainbow, and even some Scotty "the newest American Idol" somewhere.   I  don't buy all this music because I have a subscription to Rhapsody, and therein lies part of the problem.  With Rhapsody, I can explore all kinds of musical types.  Lately, I have found a new favorite: Jem.  I love her music.  I discovered Regina Spektor through Rhapsody and all kinds of other bands, singers, etc.

I can spend hours just messing with my music -- have done so, in fact.  At this very moment, I am downloading about 130 songs on Rhapsody to transfer to my MP3 player.  I won't be able to fit them all because the one I use in my car is only 500 kilobytes, but I'll get around 100 songs or so on it.  I have discovered that my Toyota plays Data Disks, so I can put 200 songs on a data disk and burn it to play in my car.  It won't play in a regular stereo, but it also plays on my computer.

I can remember the actual first two tapes I ever bought.  One was Help by the Beatles and the other was by Deep Purple.  I can't actually remember the name of it, but I do remember it had "Kentucky Woman" on it.  I know; it's not a Deep Purple song, but they did record it for this album.  One of my most favorite albums of all times is Night Moves by Bob Seger.  A close second would be the Eagles first Greatest Hits CD.  I love being able to put a CD in and sing every song word for word.

If I could not listen to music, I think I would go crazy. 

Screenplay update

www.dreamstime.com  Dean and Dee Dee Knight would have looked like this about the time their mother died in a car crash.

I just spent 15 minutes writing an excellent blog that I accidentally erased somehow.  Sometimes, I hate technology.  Sometimes, I love it.  I had an old girlfriend like that.  When we weren’t fighting, we were awesome together, but otherwise … well, no reason to dwell on the past.

Why was I writing my blog you might ask.  Well, two reasons.  I wanted to give an update on how my screenplay was going.  I just finished page 53, so I am close to the midpoint, which will be a shocker.  I know that what I’m writing is not all sunny and breezy, but the subject matter is insanity and residential care facilities for children.  It isn’t a pretty world sometimes, and we tend to forget that.  I don’t know if anyone would ever want to produce this movie.  It is a dark, psychological horror film with forays into the world of illusion and reality all centered in the realms of insanity and state custody – if that makes sense.  It has some good parts in it, especially for younger performers.  It is contained for the most part in one locale so it wouldn’t be expensive to produce.

The second reason I’m writing is to talk a little bit about revision when you are writing for publication.  I have been to some writers’ conferences where critique sessions were part of the agenda, and when I have been in a critique session I put on the role of editor and consider what I would say if I came across the papers people read.  Some folks just won’t listen to constructive criticism and become very defensive.  If I say that your dialogue seems stiff, I’m not saying that you’re the scum of the earth, I’m saying your dialogue is stiff.

Pretend I am an editor – even for a small publishing house.  It’s like that I get several hundred submissions a year.  Say I get just one or two a day.  I have many duties besides reading unsolicited manuscripts (Good luck even finding a publishing company that will read unsolicited manuscripts).  If I pick up your paper and I find several grammar errors in your first paragraph, guess how much of your novel I will read.  One paragraph.  Even if you have a clean paper and you don’t catch my attention in the first ten pages, guess how much I’m going to read.  Ten pages – if you’re lucky.

Unfortunately, as a college writing instructor, I have to read my students’ papers from beginning to end.  (Well, mostly.)  Sigh.

Now, I don’t mention editing just for any of my readers’ benefits.  I often think of editing my own papers.  This screenplay, for instance.  When I get finished with the first draft, the easy part will be over.  I have to start my revision process.  I know my two biggest weaknesses as a screenwriting.  First, I need to tell more of my story with images.  I need to cut down on some of my dialogue.  Secondly, I am too “On the nose”;  I need to work on subtext a lot.  This is a lot of work in itself, but if my story has weaknesses, then I’m really in trouble.

You want to write for publication?  You have to work hard.  If you want to write just for yourself, then have at it.  Enjoy.

Revising your writing

My mom and dad in Hawaii

Revision is a necessary evil.

Writing is not something you sit down and do correctly in one sitting.  Oh, you might be able to cobble together an essay the night before it's due and even, if you're gifted with words, write something that is reasonably good.  But reasonably good should never be settled for.  We don't settle for reasonably good in most areas of our life if we can avoid it.

Students in college are lucky in that most teachers are overworked and underpaid, and they don't have the time to spend a great deal of time on any one essay that they grade.  I spend, on average, ten minutes per essay if I am really taking my time and working hard at it, this despite the fact that I can usually read one paragraph and tell whether I have an A,B,C,D, or F paper in my hand.  Last semester -- this semester is easier thankfully -- I had 65 composition students in my day class and an additional 35 in my night classes.  Multiply 100 by 10 and you get 1,000 minutes or over 16 hours of time spent on a cursory grading session.  I work Monday through Friday, leaving the house at about 6:15 a.m. in the morning and arrive back home at around 4 p.m. most days, except for Thursday.  I teach a night class from 4 to 7 p.m.  and usually don't get home until about 7:30.  On Wednesday, I come home for an hour and a half or so and then teach another night class from 6:30 to 9 p.m.  That leaves five days -- over three hours a night grading when I have a set of papers come in.

I've strayed from the subject slightly, but my point is that I can't spend the time I should to grade papers.  If I did, I doubt very seriously if 10 percent of my papers would receive A's.  People think that they are finished when they have written a decent first draft, but far from it.

In the revision process, you should basically rewrite everything, checking content, wording, sentence structure --everything.  Many students think running grammar and spell check is the same thing as revising.  Again, far from it.

A grammar check won't tell you, for instance, that the word stagger gives a much more vivid image than does the word walk.  I always do a short assignment to get my students to see how the connotations of words that are considered synonyms can be so vastly different.  Take walk.  Here are some synonyms.
stagger, strut, glide, meander, tiptoe, stomp, shuffle, stride, glomp, swagger,  all have very different images associated with them.  Be precise in your writing.  There are a lot of good writers out there, but you want to be the best.

Try it for yourself.  Write as many synonyms as you can for the verb look.  You should be able to get ten to fifteen easily.

My daughter's coming home tomorrow.  It's only for one day, a night, and part of another day, but I so look forward to seeing her.  I miss her dreadfully when she is not here.

My family members have been experiencing some very strange things.  All of them seem to be messages from meemaw.  My sister said that her grandson put a blanket my mom made for him in this baby seat thing -- I forgot what she called it -- for his baby sister (my niece is pregnant) and despite not having had batteries for four years, it suddenly played Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

It's so comforting.

Whazzup?

Summer fun; happier times

My night class went well tonight.  I had trouble being my best because I am tired and a bit depressed.  We have had a few days of gray, wet weather with temperatures in the high 30's low 40's as highs.  I am touched a little bit by seasonal affective disorder though I have never actually received a diagnosis.  It always starts after the holiday season.  The months of January, February, and March are long and drawn out.  I need to move to a warm --  not hot -- sunny climate and start anew.  Restlessness is a horrible thing to deal with primarily because you can't deal with it.  You have to outlast it.

I have written another three or four pages of my screenplay.  I am going to finish it, and it's going to be good.  When I finish it, I'm going to option it and then I'm going to do a novelization of it to make even more money -- though it's not all about money.  Money just shows that I have accomplished something.  Writers write to be read.  If they are making money off their work, it means people are reading it.  Writers have huge egos that need to be fed, and we have an exaggerated sense of self worth.  It gnaws at our souls that musicians and actors get more recognition because we know we work harder than they do.  Naw, I'm just ranting a little bit.  I'm tired.  That's all it is.

Yesterday, I wrote about my throat being sore, and today I looked beside the blog entry and there was an advertisement about throat cancer.  That was a cheerful thought.  I signed up for Adsense a long time ago.  So far, I have made 91 cents.  If all my readers would click on the ads I'd make more.  Honestly, I don't even know why I did it.  Perhaps I thought it might be worth it.  I mean it's not hurting anything, but I am certainly not going to make any money with it.

Well, I don't want to wear out my welcome.  Think happy thoughts.

Night Classes

It's going to take me a while to get back in shape for my night classes.  Even though I don't lecture for two and a half hours (the typical length of a night class), my throat still gets a little raw and scratchy.  I have a cough that I thinkt is caused by years of talking too much.  It isn't helped by the fact that I periodically suffer from acid reflux.  I get hoarse easily and I start coughing a lot when I am eating or drinking.  I swallow the least bit funny and it catches the back part of my throat which apparently bears a cough button.   It seems as if I am always getting choked on my own spit or what I swallow.  I have thought about getting an endoscopy to make sure I have no major problems, but it really doesn't hurt.  It just feels a little scratchy and irritated when I talk all day.  Unfortunately, in teaching, there are days when you cannot avoid talking all day.

My students are doing their first journal assignment of the semester.  They will do at least one weekly and they will read some of them aloud.  It holds them accountable for doing their best work if I make them read it aloud.  It helps also when I have a really good writer because the students hear what a really good essay sounds like.  So when they journal, I blog -- which is sort of a journal. 

I do need to sign out though and get back to work.  Thirty minutes to end of class.  I'm very tired tonight.


Class is over.  I will not be up up much longer because I am very tired.


I entered the first ten pages of my screenplay in a contest.  Every entry gets feedback in three to five weeks whether or not it was a winner.  I need to get some outside eyes, because mine are so nearsighted.

The Joys of Research

I used to hate research, and the only reason why I did was that I didn't know how to do it correctly.  It is actually interesting to look up material. Since I have been doing writing for the ACT test, I have researched some interesting topics, some more so than others, but I still enjoy the process.  In the process of my writing, I discovered that one of the first nonviolent civil rights demonstrations happened in Southeast Missouri in the 1930's.  I've written about snails that have  turned eggs into something that resembles bubble wrap and they surf on the ocean upside down on it.  They are interesting looking creatures.  I've written about other topics, but I really can't get into all of that because I'm sworn to secrecy.  The process is interesting.  My essays and ones like them are sent to other people who essentially write in a bunch of grammatical errors for the language arts portion of the test.  I've never done this to any of the essays I have written personally, so I never know what the final essay will look like once it's on the test.  However, I have written questions for other people's essays.  By the time I finish putting in errors, it's a bit unrecognizable, but even then, I couldn't tell you the final questions that would be on the test because I write a whole lot more questions than what are actually used.  It's all a fascinating process.  This spring I am going to Iowa City where I will actually get to sit in on finalizing some tests -- not the ACT but some of the ones they use for younger students to prepare them for the ACT.

 

Just for your information, the picture is from a school's production of one of my plays.  Haunted Hamlet is the one that I've written that seems to be most popular with people.

 

 

 

 

Another message?

I've mentioned several times in my blog little messages that I think I sometimes get from my mom.  I dreamed about her last night.  We were at her and Dad's house for a meal.  We were just doing the visiting thing.  Also, we fed the birds and I decorated the walls with flowers.  This whole time my mom was laughing and talking to us.  It suddenly hit me that she wasn't supposed to be there any longer.  I looked at her and asked, "Meemaw, aren't you dead?"  She said, "No, not really."  Then, without missing a beat, she went on to say how Ryan -- my nephew -- had aced the ACT test.  The alarm rang and woke me up.  It was unusual.  We were just sitting and talking as always until it dawned on me that she had died.

The peony above looks like the type of flower we were using to decorate.  Peonies are my favorite flower.  Blue is one of my favorite colors.  Green too.

I did another page or so of my screenplay.  Slowly but surely, it is coming together.  I have thought of a great line I want to use in it.  Dean asks the ghost of his sister, "Am I crazy, Dee Dee?"  She says, "As an outhouse rat and you might as well take advantage of it."  I'm approaching midpoint.

I don't have a favorite team for the Superbowl yet.  I don't like either team much.  If I root for one, I guess it will be the Patriots, just because they lost to the Giants the last time.  Really, all I want is an exciting game.  If we get that, it will be worth it.  Spring training is coming soon.  I would love to go to Florida for a Cardinal spring training game.

ACT sent me an email today that the last two essays I sent to them have been accepted.  In another month or two, I'll get paid for them.  They are sometimes slow, but during certain times of the year, they get incredibly busy.  I'm making some money on my writing, so it makes it a little easier for me to justify writing screenplays which I will most likely never sell.  I'm not a Hollywood insider by any stretch of the imagination.  The thing is I really enjoy writing screenplays, and I am getting better at them.  I guess if I enjoy writing them, it's not wasting my time to do so.  I think that the screenplay will  help me to focus on the YA novel I want to write based on the same story.

What do you think?  Do we spend our time writing what we think we can sell?  Or write strictly what we want even when we have little chance of selling it?  

Question for literature lovers

This group sponsors a great writer's conference every October.  Check it out.

I have a question for all of you readers out there.  (I guess the same question could apply to movie watchers too.)  What is it that you like most about a literary work -- the characters or the plot?  I think characters are most memorable to me.  My favorite films and books have memorable characters. Frodo in Lord of the Rings.  I actually prefer Samwise in the movie.  Harry, Hermione, and Ron.  Forrest Gump. Can there really be a meaningful story without a memorable character?  I don't think so.  I tend to gravitate toward ensemble type films and books probably because I like the idea of a large group of friends hanging out together.  When I was younger, I was a part of some groups, but I am not really that way anymore.  I miss it.

I sometimes feel isolated, and I believe I know at least one reason why.  I teach, and I truly do like my students and I like seeing them grow and develop, but they are nerve wracking at times.  In the evenings after a full day with students, I often don't want to be around big groups.  I just want to engage in my solitary adventures.  I am also somewhat handcuffed by the fact that I have so much work to do after school sometimes.  I have to grade papers and if I am going to write, this is the time I must do it.  Then, I usually have other obligations too.

As my friends and I aged, we, of course, went off on our own pursuits and grew apart.  It's hard for high school students to realize that the friends they have in high school will not likely be their friends their entire lives.  I've always been somewhat of a loner anyway, not that I don't like people, but that I like privacy.

There have been times when I have really connected with people.  I meet people at writers' conferences at times.  I used to go to the Ozark Writer's Conference in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.  At dinner one night I met this group of people that I started talking to, and there was an instant connection.  It was like I had made a lifelong friend, one who knew everything about me, in just ten minutes.  Stupid me did not get names and numbers down.  I would like to go to that conference again, and may, in fact do so, this coming October.   It's hard to be a writer even with the Internet and the connections you make through Facebook and blogging.  It is a lonely pursuit at times.

I think I have had the same problem here as I sometimes get in my writing.  I have wondered off topic.

So, what do you think?  What makes a movie or book memorable for you?

While I'm at it, let me put in a plug for the Ozark Writers Conference.  It is a great conference.  One of the most spectacular aspects of it is that if you sign up for it -- and the registration fee is very inexpensive -- you can enter any of their 15 or 16 contest, all of which offer cash prizes.  I have won enough in contests at their conferences that I have actually made back my registration fee.

It is a good time.  Usually the first weekend in October.  They have not planned out their 2012 conference yet, but you can go to their home page and get more information on what they have done and who they are.
http://www.ozarkcreativewriters.org/

Making progress

My favorite: the breakfast of champions.

I have written 36 pages of my screenplay.  It is flabby and wordy and will need to be screwed down some, but my goal at the moment is just to finish it.  Then, the hard work begins.  I have been planning the story as I go along.  I have used Blake Snyder's beat sheets to plot out the major parts of the story and then I've been going back and planning out the scenes in between the big plot points.  So I know how my story is going to end.  I know where act 1, the midpoint, the end of act 2, all are.  I plan out a few scenes and then I write them.  Then, I plan more and write more.  I actually have ever scene through the first 60 pages pretty well plotted out.  I am finding some strong advantages to doing the screenplay the way I am.  I have the overall structure, but I still have enough room for surprises and twists along the way.  I feel like a dog put on a long lead chain.  I have lots of room to run, but I don't run so far that I destroy the unity of the screenplay.  I recommend Snyder's book, "Save the Cat."  There is also software of the same name which isn't too expensive, but I can't say much about it because I've not bought it.  Another good book is "How to Write a Movie in 21 Days."

The exciting thing is that I am sure that I can use the same structure when I write young adult and middle grade novels.  This screenplay is eventually going to be a book.  In fact, I started to write the screenplay as a way of organizing and planning the novel -- to make it lean and powerful so to speak, but I think now the screenplay will be good enough to submit on its own.  Even if no one buys it, that's okay with me.  I have truly enjoyed writing it.  It's been a while since I could say that.  I have been putting too much pressure on myself to please others that I forgot that I had to write something to please myself.

In other news, both of my night classes have now met once.  Tonight's class seemed a little quiet, but I feel they may eventually come out of that.  I know several people in my other night class who should make that a fun class to teach.  So far this semester, I have been keeping myself organized with my classes at North County.  I sort of had that as a resolution.

Tomorrow is our first weigh in for the Biggest Loser at the high school.  I'm going to try it.  I need to drop about 30 pounds and I might as well start.  I ate a lot tonight, and I'm going to give myself an unusual breakfast treat tomorrow by making Toaster Strudels, my favorite.  Usually, I reserve them for the weekend, but tomorrow is going to be my last day before I start trying to watch what I eat.

That's all the news that's fit to print.

It's one hour and fifty one minutes away from Friday, at least here in Missouri.

Brief Update

My night classes start tonight.  I teach Comp II tonight and Comp I tomorrow night.  So much for my days of ease and nights of bliss.  I look forward to the day when I don't have to do this anymore.  Teaching all day every day and two nights besides is exhausting mentally and physically.

I did find some time to work on my screenplay today and finished two or three pages.  I'm not sure exactly because I use an iPad app, and I haven't transferred it to my regular computer yet.  I know that I will have to do some major revisions because I'm too talky.  That's a sure way to kill a film. I wish one of my multiple intelligences was visual/spatial so that I could visualize my film as I wrote.

I wonder what my students will be like.  I know three of them, and I really like them.  The others I don't know at all.  I hope I get a good group though.  Night classes are long, and they are even longer when your class isn't cooperative.  I like a class that will engage in discussion.  We will see what happens.

Well, I don't have much else to say.  That's probably a good thing.

What should I do?

Fate...Destiny...Will

I don't think my blog is very exciting anymore.  Nor do I know what to do with it.  The problem, I think, is that I am not an organized person who specializes in any one thing.  I do a lot of different things, but none of them excellently.  Some people are artists, writers, builders, speakers -- and there's nothing I do very spectacularly, so therefore what I write is not spectacularly interesting.  I guess I'm -- dare, I say it -- just average in most things.  I wish I could do a lot of things well.  I've always wanted to sing or be a musician;  when I sing, most people prefer that I sing tenor -- ten or more miles away from them.  I sing in the key of "off".  I'm really not that funny either.  Occasionally, I say something funny or I write something funny, but I wouldn't say I'm what you call a major entertaining type person.

My personality is not spectacular either.  I'm common in almost all respects.  Oh, that's just it.  My blog is called the common joe, and its purpose was originally to express beliefs that fit most "common" people -- the common joe.  Joe the plumber.  I guess somewhere I lost my way.  It's easy for me to get sidetracked and to meander around seemingly without direction -- I'm being redundant.  Doesn't meander mean to move around aimlessly?  And I fancy myself a writer.

The truth of the matter is, I think, that I have always thought I have had some great destiny.  I have thought I was put on this earth to be something specific -- something important.  I thought for a while it was to be a great writer -- to win that Nobel Prize for literature and change the world with my acceptance speech.  This isn't going to happen.  I write and I sometimes publish, but I wonder how much I have been read.  Likely not much. I guess I influence some people as a teacher, but there are thousands upon thousands of teachers who do that.

Perhaps, I've always felt inferior, and I've wanted to do something to stand out from the crowd, to rise above the common hordes.  I've never been happy with "common".  But really, there's nothing wrong with being just ordinary.  I know that millions of people are perfectly happy with their simple lives, their simple jobs, and their simple families.  Some of the greatest writers of all time said the key to happiness is to simplify your life.  I should be happy with who and what I am, and I guess for the most part I am, but I still have that nagging doubt.  Am I what I ought to be?

Part of my problem is that I have a mental issue that's a distant cousin to bipolar disorder, and one of the characteristics of bipolar disorder is delusions of grandeur.  Many people like me have these huge, elaborate plans, hopes, and expectations that they just know will all fall into place and make them great people,  not just good, but great.  These are often not realistic.  It becomes a vicious cycle really because I and people like me have these huge, great plans and when they fall through, they fall into depression.  Since our goals are not very rational anyway, we are setting ourselves up for failure.

So, do any of you out there have any advice on how to be satisfied with what you are and not be worried about what you're not?

Monday ... Yuck.

My daughter has gone back to college, and this depresses me a little bit.  We had gotten used to having her around.  Even when Megan was running around with friends or doing something with her fiance, we always knew she was "home".  Now, we have to get used to having her gone again.  I don't like it.  This is the last Christmas she will be unmarried.  I think I am going to back out of this line of thought before my little bit of depression gets worse.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. day.  Where are the voices crying out in the wilderness today?  Where are the leaders like King fighting for justice?  There are no Republican leaders and there are no Democratic leaders.  Leadership abilities do not get people elected these days. Political action committees, money, and lobbyists rule this country and our elections.  Where is our hope for the future?  I know our government is supposed to be greater than any one man, and that's wonderful.  If not for the way our forefathers structured our government, we would have collapsed into chaos many years ago.  But really, do you know any leaders?  I have to admire Huntsman for criticizing the backbiting within the Republican ranks.  (I know; he did his fair share too.)  It was nice, however, to say enough is enough when he ended his candidacy.

I am working on a synopsis for my screenplay in hopes of filling in some of the empty spots.  I don't want to have a two hour movie that ends in an hour and fifteen minutes.  I am using a lot of different sources to build the content into something significant.  I need to work on making my major character proactive instead of reactive. I need to develop this aspect of him more.  Just because he's mentally ill, does not mean he has to be a door mat.  He's going to have trouble controlling his actions and keeping a handle on his impulses.

I challenged my friends on Facebook to do something nice, and I am also going to challenge anyone who might accidentally read my blog.  None of us has made it to where we are by ourselves.  All of us have had help from  someone or someones in our life.  King was an inspiration for millions.  Who was your inspiration?  Think of someone to whom you owe a great big thanks to and send them one.  I can guarantee you that if you take the time to thank someone who helped you in your life that you will make that person's day.

What do you say?  Will you take the challenge to say thanks?

Lancelot in Love : excerpt from novel.

I don't know much about Zelda Williams, but she looks like the type I would want for Ahna if Lancelot were ever made into a movie.  Of course, Ahna dies in the book.

This is an excerpt from Lancelot and the Tides of Time.  The book is still available at

www.buckscountypublishing.com

I truly appreciate your support.  If you have any questions of me or the book please feel free to comment.

If Lancelot were ever made into a movie, Lucy Lawless would be my choice for the Lady of the Lake

Lancelot faced Ahna. Both held wooden staffs.

“Sometimes, Lancelot, you fight with what you have,” Ahna said.

“And you don’t have much,” he said and smiled.

“The little I do have is far greater than what you possess.”

He didn’t hear her because he had lost his concentration, something he had done frequently lately. Restlessness seized him at all hours of the day. Each day, he felt more and more like a prisoner. He wasn’t treated poorly; in fact, the women treated him as if he were a prince. Still, there was something missing in his life. He felt as if he had no purpose for existing.

He took a good look at Ahna, something else he had done a lot lately. She had grown into a beautiful young lady with silky, brown hair falling over her shoulders, green

eyes, and a tan, muscular body. She was every bit the warrior while at the same time every bit the woman.

“Wake up,” she said and lunged at him. She punched his stomach with her staff. “Daydreaming in the midst of battle will kill you.”

Lancelot backed away so that he could regain his breath. Another thing he was tired of was the constant battle preparation. He had seen no enemies in the four years he had been with the Lady of the Lake. Iweret had not shown his face.

He sighed and prepared his staff. He lunged forward, but Ahna knocked his staff down and hit him in the back of the head. Despite the leather helmet he wore, the blow still hurt.

“If that had been a sword you would have been dead.”

Lancelot approached more cautiously, looking for weaknesses in her defense. He faked a straight thrust and brought his staff high; she blocked it. He countered with a

back swing designed to catch her side and knock the wind out of her. She blocked it. He swung high again; she blocked it and butted him in the stomach with the staff. He grunted and fell backward to the floor where he sat and panted.

“Some warrior you are. You let a girl beat you.”

“Mabuz!”

The boy darted away. Lancelot had grown used to Mabuz and his comments, most delivered in good-natured fun. In fact, he and the little brat had become good buddies, but this day, his words angered Lancelot. He jumped to his feet and rushed Ahna. He swung wildly high and low, out of control, wanting to crack her skull. She blocked every blow and then sent him reeling with another blow to the head. He lay on the floor and did not move.

“Lancelot, are you all right?” She started to go toward him.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

Ahna laughed. “You couldn’t beat your own mother even if –“ Then, she paused as she realized what she said.

Lancelot jumped to his feet and started out the door.

“I didn’t mean anything.”

He ignored her.

“I’m sorry,” she called after him.

Lancelot hurried to the end of the corridor and looked out the castle window. Five feet below the window was a ledge; it circled the entire castle wall, a good ten feet

across, big enough for guards to patrol, and in times of war, for lines of archers to stand. He climbed out of the window and dropped to it. The outer walls rose four feet above the ledge – tall enough to shield the occupants from many arrows and spears. He walked to the wall and peered out over it at the star-filled night skies. Beneath him hundreds of feet, the waves of a sea lapped against the rocks. Often, when the Lady of the Lake wanted to make one of her especially grand appearances, she would appear in the sea and rise up out of the water hundreds of feet to the level of the ledge. Her beauty and fierce majesty always impressed Lancelot.

A hand grasped Lancelot’s shoulder. He jumped away.

“It’s me. Ahna.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Don’t sull up on me like a … like a boy. I’ve come to talk to you.”

He looked at her, barely able to see her silhouette in the moonlight. She looked like some ethereal creature herself, a water sprite or an elf. “I’m sorry for what I said in there, Lancelot. I didn’t mean to be cruel.”

Lancelot leaned on the wall. “It was four years ago to the day that my parents were slaughtered.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lancelot forced himself not to cry.

“You loved them very much?”

“My father. He had just begun to teach me to fight. He was a king: fair and just. The world will not find his kind again.”

“They say that King Arthur is a just king.”

“I don’t know this King Arthur.”

“He brings the nobles together in peace and harmony. They work together for the good of the nation, to help those less fortunate, and to defend the country.”

“It’s a shame they were not around to save my parents.”

Silence fell over them. Ahna put her hand on Lancelot’s shoulder.

“They were slaughtered, Ahna. Every man, woman, and child. I could do nothing.”

“You were just a boy.”

“Why was I saved? Why couldn’t I have died along with the rest of them where I belonged.”

“Perhaps, you were saved for a higher purpose.”

“That’s what my mother said.” When Lancelot thought of his mother, he could not fight the tears that came to his eyes.

“What was your mother like?”

“She was beautiful.”

“I wish I were beautiful,” Ahna said. “Then perhaps you would pay more attention to me.”

Lancelot turned to her and saw that she hung her head. “You are beautiful.”

“All of my life I have been a warrior, and I have had no time to be a woman.”

She looked at Lancelot; their eyes locked. Lancelot leaned toward her and kissed her. Ahna did not resist him. He jerked away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have wanted to –“

He leaned forward and kissed her again.

Then, a voice bellowed, “I’m telling mother!”

The two jerked apart.

“Mabuz!” Lancelot yelled, but the boy disappeared.

When they crawled back through the window, a group of warriors met them. Bella stepped forward. “I knew you were just like the rest. Take him to the spring. I will contact the Lady.”

As Lancelot and Ahna were led down the corridor, they passed Mabuz. The boy grinned and stuck his tongue out at them as if it were all some kind of game. Lancelot

looked at him and then shook his head sadly.

The spring bubbled up in a room on the ground floor of the castle. A circular fountain encircled by white marble walls, it was no more than ten feet across. The room itself was empty except for two chairs. The walls were white and bereft of any apestries.

The warriors gestured for Lancelot and Ahna to go inside, and then they closed the doors with a clunk. Lancelot felt as if he had just stepped into a prison cell.  He took Ahna’s hand. “I’m sorry. I broke the rules, and now you’re in trouble.”

“We broke the rules together.”

The water in the spring rippled as if some giant hand stirred it and then burst upward. There she was, “The Lady”, and she didn’t look happy. “I thought I could trust you Ahna.”

The door to the room burst open, and Mabuz ran inside.

“Ha! Ha! Lancelot got in trouble.”

“What are you doing here, Mabuz?”

“I wanted to see you yell at Lancelot.”

“Do you know how serious this is?”

Mabuz fell silent. Lancelot saw confusion and fear mixed in his face. “Mother, I didn’t want Lancelot to get in trouble. I just –“

“It’s time you started taking your responsibilities more seriously.” The lady said, her voice like a thundering waterfall. “I’m disappointed in all of you. I thought I could

trust you too, Lancelot.”

“Mother, they weren’t really doing anything that wrong.”

“Be quiet, Mabuz. Since you two have broken a solemn oath, you must be punished. I cannot have people I mistrust in positions of influence.”

“You can’t do this, Mother.”

“Ahna, your actions are treasonous, and the penalty for treason is death.”

Eureka

Subject of my master's thesis.  Killed in a tragic car accident in 1980, I believe.

Through trial and error much more than intelligence, I solved one of my technology problems. I finally figured out some of the nuances of the cassette tape to mp3 converter. First, I discovered it would not record if you plugged headphones into the device itself. It is like turning off the amplifier. Then, also by accident, I discovered the mp3's made on the computer will not play on my computer as long as I have the device plugged into my computer. That is a relief because I thought I should be smart enough to figure it out. Now, I will have lots of fun spending countless hours converting my tapes to mp3's. It will be worth it because I have some good stuff.

 I have spent some time this evening planning some more of my screenplay. I have thought of an interesting twist to the story, but I don't won't it to be too much for people. It will work as a thriller/psychological horror story. It has come quite a way from the original young adult novel I started with.f The Broncos are struggling at the moment. I don't know if Tim Tebow has another miracle in him. I did not watch the49er game, but it must have been incredibly exciting.

 I'm listening to Garth Brooks. A while ago it was Harry Chapin whom I have not listened to since I did my master's thesis on him and got completely burned out on him. He still sound great.

Technology sucks.

Sometimes in a good way, but primarily, I think technology is here to drive human beings to distraction or perhaps destruction of their sanity.  I am dealing with two major technology issues, and any advice will be appreciated.  Let me begin with my iTunes program.

Let me begin with what started the whole mess.  My laptop was getting a bit loaded with music.  I had music folders everywhere from different places I've kept music.  Most of these I had imported into my iTunes program.  Well, to solve some of my space problems, I deleted a bunch of them off my computer.  When I go to iTunes, a lot of my music is not there.  The original source could not be found.  So I thought.  Oh, crap, when I deleted my music off the computer, it took it out of iTunes.  A few of my cd's that I moved to my pc, I still had around so I tried to reimport them.  iTunes said it was importing them, but the songs still weren't there.  The weird thing is they were still in iCloud on my iPad.  I got the message that if I deleted the songs from my PC iTunes -- even though they couldn't be found -- they would also be deleted from iCloud, and I wouldn't be able to play them on iPad2.   By this time I was getting a little frustrated so I moved on to a different endeavor just to calm down.  I had some CD's that I wanted in my iTunes on my pc.  Well, most imported right away and it didn't matter if I imported them as mp3 or AAC. Then I tried to import three other CD's.  It appeared that they imported just fine.  However, they were not in my iTunes list.  One or two of them I imported as mp3. I found them on my computer after a search but not in iTunes.

Later right before I went to bed, I turned iTunes back on and it was uploading 36 songs.  The ones from the three albums that I couldn't find on iTunes I supposed.  This morning the songs were still not on iTunes, but they were on my iPad. One of the albums was on there twice. (They were not downloaded; they were in iCloud) There was some other weird stuff. What the heck?

My other technological problem has to do with a cassette to mp3 -- supposedly converter.  I have this software program that imports Cassette music into the computer via a small machine that looks like a cassette player and a usb cord. I'm finding that it imports the music just fine, but it won't export the music as mp3's as it is supposed to.  The directions said that it would ask for a file.  It's a dll file which I downloaded as I was supposed to.  However, when I tried to export the music that I imported as an mp3 I could read in iTunes and Windows Media, it did not ask for the file.  (some kind of codec).  It looked as if the file was exporting, but then when I played it on windows media player, there was nothing.

I don't know what's going on with all of this stuff, and I am about to go insane.  I love music, and I want to be able to burn CD's and import MP3 files from all of my music programs but this is all very frustrating.  Any help will be appreciated.

Feeling lucky?

On Friday, February 13, 1970 when I was in the sixth grade, I fell --actually I was pushed by a playground bully-- backwards, landing on my hands and breaking my right wrist.  This happened during our third recess of the day, right before the Valentine's Day party where we would be drinking soda, eating cupcakes, and exchanging Valentines.  Ever since, I have been a little uneasy about Friday the 13th.  Yet, today, I am going to fly in the face of fear and actually get out and drive on road that could possibly have snow on them.  My goal is that this will not be my last blog.

Seriously, though, how many of us have irrational fears of common things.  Most people will not suffer a spider or a snake to live.  Honestly, most of both species -- at least here in America are harmless AND often times very beautiful.  Look at a spider's web glistening with dew in the morning sunrise.  Wow, how beautiful is that.  Have you ever actually studied the way a snake moves?  It's fascinating.  Mostly, I don't mind snakes.  Spiders, as long as they are not in my house, also don't bother me.  I came home from a night class once, though, and my family had gone to bed.  When I kicked my shoes off -- in the dark, I might add -- and walked into the living room, I flipped on my life, and there not more than three inches from my bare feet was a -- I think they call them wolf spiders, harmless, but huge -- and before I could stop myself I grabbed the nearest heavy object and squished it.  Honestly, it wasn't hurting anything.  It was probably just as scared of me when I turned on the light as I was of him.

The one species of insect that has always given me the shivers is the wasp and all of its cousins such as bumblebees, hornets, yellow jackets, dirt dobbers.  My earliest memory is being stung on top of the head by a wasp.  I hate the way they get in the house and they dart around.  When they hit windows or the ceiling, they make that "ticking" sound that makes me a quivering mass of Jello.  My wife and my daughter generally have to dispose of this species of insect because I can't stand them.  My fear for them is irrational.

There's a scene in Shining by Stephen King where the boy finds a supposedly empty hornet's nest and he takes it into his room as a souvenir.  He awakens in the middle of the night only to find hornets buzzing all over his room.  That scene terrified me.  I read it a few months before I got married after my wife and I had found the house we were going to live in.  I moved in early and lived there by myself for a few months. Let me tell you; I had to quit reading the book I was so terrified.

Well, I have some running to do today, and I need to finish getting ready.  I will maybe write later.

Colder than a ...

I didn't think I'd write again tonight but here goes.  It has gotten so cold today and it's supposed to be really cold tonight also with huge wind gusts.  We brought the dogs in so they wouldn't get so cold.

I took advantage of my day off by writing on screenplay.  I have completed 25 and a half pages.  I'm about to hit the first major turning point, the disappearance of the main character's sister.

I bought this cassette to mp3 converter that I have been messing with for two days now.  I just can't get it to work.  It records the cassette music into the program just fine, but when I try to export it as an mp3, I can't get it to work.  I just get silence.  I downloaded the SMART file I needed to convert them, but something is not right.  The instructions say it will ask for this file, but so far it hasn't asked me for it.  I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but I'm about the throw the **** thing out the window and burn all of my cassettes.  I am not very technologically savvy, but as far as I can tell I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

My school and several other schools in my area are not having school tomorrow either, so that means I get an unexpected four day weekend.  I need to do some stuff with my daughter tomorrow.  We are going to check out the place where she plans to have her wedding reception.  I'm not too thrilled about this wedding stuff, but I think my daughter is.

I'm not going to say anything funny, wise, or controversial tonight.

The Rams are still  looking for a coach and general manager.  I hope Kroenke can do something to turn the team around.  He'll get it turned around and then move it back to Los Angeles.  He'll fly the coup just like Pujols did.  It's all about the stadium with Kroenke.  The Edward Jones Dome is not in the top tier of stadiums and since it's not, Kroenke can move the team as soon as the lease is up.

Things are tough in a mid market city unless you happen to be the redbirds who draw three million every year almost.  If the Rams could put a winner together, the team would be supported. It has had wide support in the past despite many years of abysmal failure.  

First snow day of the year.

Though it was unexpected, today's snow day was appreciated. I haven't yet gotten back into gear for this semester, so I was quite tired. When I found out we did not have school, I went back to bet and slept for another four and a half hours. It felt good though I didn't actually need it. We were, hoever, going to get a three day weekend but now Monday will be used as a makeup day. Oh, well, it has been a long time since we got MLK day off, so I shouldn't get used to it anyway. My night class was also canceled tonight, so I don't have to worry about it. The other night classes start next week anyway, so I thought it a bit odd to begin one day's this week. I can tell you it's bitterly cold today here. Though the temperature is in the 20's, it feels as if it is in the single digits. It's going to be bad again tonight, but then, on Saturday, the temperatures are going to go back to the 50's. Missouri weather, well frankly, it sucks. I haven't done much this morning except enjoyed it. I bought an album on iTunes. I used to have Neil Young's Comes A Time on cassette, but of course, cassettes are no longer in vogue. Recently, I purchased a rather handy little device -- at least it will be handy when I learn how to use it correctly -- that changes cassette tape music into mp3's. At any rate I messed with this converter for hours last night, and in the process destroyed my Neil Young Comes a Time tape. After roughly five hours of messing with this gadget and thinking -- though not saying, because my daughter's fiancee was in the room -- several profane words, I finally got the thing to record and then export some music as an mp3 players. It wasn't working so I finally looked at the directions only to determine that I needed to download a file before I could actually export the tape files as mp3's. I finally managed to get one side of the Moody Blues Sur La Mere tape recorded and exported. However, I didn't do something right with the recording level and the sound was much too soft. When I work up the courage and patience, I will give it all one more try. Several years ago, in 1993, (I remember the date because it was the year Missouri had some very heave flooding) I saw the Moody Blues in concert with the ST. Louis symphony orchestra. It was an amazing show. Great classic rock and roll which like a lot of rock band music began with a touch of the blues. OUr bird feeders have been inundated with all kinds of birds today because of the snow. We have seen a dozen Cardinals or more. Cardinals were my mother's favorite bird. They ae so beautiful and so tough, just like my mom was. I am probably talking too much at the moment so I should sign off. Cardinal flutters, Shaking feathers dusted with snow cascade of red tears. That, my friends, is a really bad haiku that will make sense to no one other than myself.

teaching

 Teaching is becoming more and more of a hassle these days.  I am a good teacher, and I know that in my lifetime I have influenced kids in a positive way, and I have taught them valuable skills. Yet, teaching is being attacked from every angle.  Don't people know that if legislation against teachers and attacks on teacher "perks" as some people call them continue that it will be harder and harder to get good people interested into going into education? If fewer talented people go into education, then the educational system gets worse.  I don't follow the logic of legislators who continually attack education.

 

I have gotten to the point where all the abuse of teachers is going to drive me out of education.  I don't necessarily want to leave, and I don't know that I could since I am older, but if I were younger why would I want to get into a job where the rewards are few and the hassle and pressure are great and just keep getting greater.  It's easy to blame teachers for the problems of society.  For the last two years especially, I feel as if I have had a target on my back.

 

 

I am tired

I just spent 15 minutes typing a blog on my iPad2 and then managed to erase the whole thing. I can't believe I did it, and I don't even know how I did it. Sometimes, I don't get along with technology. First, I am tired of politics in general, and mud slinging specifically. I can not believe all of the dirt slinging that is going on. I'm tired of political advertising in general, but I guess I will have to live with it. It seems to me that it would be counterproductive to bash the members of your own party. Mitt Romney is the favorite to win New Hampshire. From what I understand, he is a little more moderate than the others. I don't know enough about him except that he is a successful businessman. Can you run a country like a business? I remember Ross Perot and think I even voted for him the first time he ran. Gridlock. Oh, boy, do we have gridlock. Shouldn't our goal as a country be to work together to solve our problems rather than concentrate all of our efforts on stopping other's efforts to solve problems. I guess what I am trying to say -- poorly -- is that the Democrats seem most interested in handcuffing the Republicans and the Republicans seem most interested in stopping the democrats. In actuality, both should be giving and taking a little to get something done. It does no good to stand firm if you sink with the ship. I've been interested in Ron Paul's belief that the U.S. cannot continue to be the world police. I don't think the GOP cares for him, and the press tries to ignore him. I don't know that much about him to be honest. This country has no leaders. It seems like in our worst times there has been someone to lead us through, but we have no leaders anymore. That's the way I see it. Im tired of winter too -- already. Short, cold gray days, and long, cold bitter nights. Bring me spring. I need to move to someplace like Arizona because, along with my many other mental problems, I think I have a touch of SAD. I don't like snow, ice, or temperatures below 60 degreees. Cold will be moving into Missouri soon. I am also tired of the bullying that seems to be increasing in cruelty and intensity. I was bullied so badly when I was in school that I got sick almost every day. I was never suicidal, but I sure didn't want to go to school. There was one big difference in my day, however. In the summer and in the evenings, we could escape some of it. Kids today can't escape it. Don't believe me? Go to Topix, type in the name of any town, and read what people write about others. Add facebook and texting and there is no escape. I wrote another page of my screenplay today. I'm tired of not publishing as much as I would like. I'm just tired tonight, and I'd probably better sign off before I depress everyone else.

Ghosts

Incredible album

I am getting ready to watch the football game.  I think it should be a good one though I don't think it can top the excitement of the Broncos victory yesterday.  What a game that was.  I'm still amazed when I think about it.  I'm watching this game mainly out of curiosity since the Mizzou Tigers will be in the same division as these two are next year.  I am probably more familiar with Alabama, but I'm not specifically rooting for either team.  I just want to see a good game, and that will make me happy.

I often wish I were back in college again.  To be that young ... sigh ... nice.  I don't know if I would be different.  There's always the possibility that if you lived your life over, it would come out worse than it is now. I am generally content.  I could have done some things better.  I could have done a lot of things worse.

I think I mentioned in here before how much I love music.  I've spent some time making some disks for my car.  I'm messing with my itunes trying to figure out how to do cd's and make playlists and that kind of stuff.  I think I have most of it figured out.  I am slow to learn, but I am usually able to.

I did another page or so of my screenplay today.  Almost have the first act finished.  I have experienced many benefits of planning it in more detail, but one of the things it seems to have allowed me to do is experiment even more with my characters and my scenes.  I need to write more visually if I am going to write screenplays that anyone will actually want to buy.  This is hard for me because I think in words before I think in pictures.  I think most people thing in images, but I don't.  It requires a great deal of effort for me to visualize.  I've taken multiple intelligences quizzes and my highest scores are always in music, verbal/linguistic, and intrapersonal intelligences. Basically, that means I like to sit home alone and talk to myself.  Perhaps that's why the screenplay I'm writing is about a young man who is mentally ill.

It would be interesting to know who thinks in words and who thinks in pictures and how it affects the way we write.  I think one of the reasons I have had some success in playwriting is that I am a verbal linguist person.  I can generally write good dialogue.  When I had to direct plays, I always had trouble blocking though because I couldn't visualize how I wanted the play to look.  I have trouble putting stuff together, and I can't draw at all.  It is fascinating to me how some people are so strong in one area but not in another.  In a way though, that is really good.  If we were all smart in exactly the same way, nothing would ever get done.

The college where I teach part time really has me confused.  Classes start tomorrow and there are Wednesday day classes this week, but my Wednesday night class doesn't meet until next week.  I don't follow the logic of that. My Thursday class, on the other hand, does meet this week.  They must have some reason for doing it that way, but I'm not sure what it is.

One of the albums I have been listening to a lot lately is Glen Campbell's Ghost on a Canvas.  I'm not much of a Glen Campbell fan, but I was morbidly curious about this album since he has really been diagnosed with alzheimer's disease.  The album is haunting on so many levels.  It expresses the viewpoint of a man who is losing his grip on all that he has ever known, even his mind.  I have seen relatives slowly wither from this horrible disease.  My grandparents on my dad's side of the family both lived to be in their 90's but they spent at least ten years with for my grandfather, dementia, and my grandmother alzheimer's.  I'm not sure what the difference between the two is but as I understand it they are different.  One blessing for my mother's sudden death is that she did not suffer with that for years.

Well, I better go.