Almost Final

When you saw Mike and Austin together, you had to smile. They were so different. Mike was tall, dark-haired, lanky and quiet. Mike wore glasses. He did have a heart of gold, though. Austin was short, blond-haired, outgoing, and independent. Of course, Austin was only five years old so he had an excuse for being short.

Our building has four apartments, two on each floor. Mike and Austin had the other apartment on the first floor. The apartments are long with a hallway that runs almost the full length. Kids love this hallway, it is their runway to all of the exciting places that kids can imagine. I took pleasure in hearing Austin come home from day care. He tore down that hallway as if he was impatient to see everything he missed during the day. I'd hear him through the walls and say “Austin’s home!” I didn’t see my neighbors often, but would always gravitate to my back door if I heard a child’s voice on the porch.

Austin joined our neighborhood almost three years ago. When his mother died unexpectedly, his uncle, Mike, took him in. Austin’s father was in prison for crimes against Austin that are too horrible to recount. Mike became his world. It was obvious the feeling was mutual. From the very beginning of this newfound relationship, Mike wanted to adopt his nephew. In March of 2005, he succeeded in his quest. Since I don’t have children of my own, I rather “adopted” Austin. Every time I got a toy in a box of cereal or with the purchase of another product, I put it aside for him. At Christmas, I would buy him some coloring books and crayons. They were always little things, but to Austin, they meant something. He was always happy to have a new person to talk to about his day.

Mike got sick a few months back. When his car hadn’t moved for several days, I knocked on his door to see what was going on. After several weeks of illness, he was diagnosed with mononeuclosis. Since he was very weak, Austin was spending some time with other family members out of town. He and Mike spoke daily on the telephone; but it was the first time they had been apart in more than two years. It was hard on both of them. Such is the trial of single parenting. I foresee similar instances in the future. Fortunately, Austin seems to be quite hardy. Aside from the scar that is a souvenir from his father, he’s quite healthy.

Mike bought a condominium and has left the neighborhood. Since Austin will be starting kindergarten in September, Mike needed to make some choices about schools. He did not feel the schools in this area would do. Austin deserves to have a real home. Mike was sleeping in the sunroom of the apartment so that Austin and his roommate had their own bedrooms. This was part of the adoption process so that the child would not feel as if he was a disruption in the household. He needed to have his own space, his own room.

The back porch and driveway of our building aren’t very good spaces for kids. The elementary school playground is not that far away and was a great treat for Austin, but it is not the same as having your own yard right outside your door. It was also not something that Austin could really do on his own. So, I’m very happy for both of them. I will definitely miss Austin now that he's gone. I will miss Mike, too, but I probably wouldn’t have really known Mike if it hadn’t been for the little boy who stole my heart.

The red tape Mike went through to provide a home for Austin will remain vivid in my mind. The slowness of the adoption process and inappropriate consideration for the natural father will always cause me to shake my head. An adoption of a foreign child would have been a much faster and less costly process. I don't know how many single men try to adopt. Mike is undoubtedly a stronger person today than he was before Austin came to him. He will be a good father. I hope Austin one day realizes just how lucky he is.

---

Today is such a big day
in your young life.
You’ve gone from “uncle” to “dad”
at the fate of the court.
All of your hard work,
persistence, love, and money
have paid off.
Your sister couldn’t have
asked for more.

Most of all, your belief
in the good things in life
have saved you both.
Look forward
with pride and hope.
You have
a wonderful son
and he,
a perfect father.

A Chapbook Promotion

“Poetic Acceptance” by Erin Monahan is a new chapbook just released by Meetings of the Minds Publications. It is 30 pages featuring 27 poems. This volume is a “must have” for all poets.

Women are affected by a variety of events in their lives. They play a large number of roles. We are women, first. At the same time, we are wives, mothers, daughters, and friends. Our roles are not always chosen, but they are ours nonetheless. “Poetic Acceptance” gives us a look at one woman’s acceptance of those roles.

While this collection of poetry offers more glimpses into the life of the author than an actual story, this mother of five shares parts of her life at its best and worst. Her poetry does a wonderful job of showcasing the various roles shared by many women. She is mother, lover, daughter and friend, all rolled up into one. Each role receives adequate attention throughout.

As a woman, we glimpse the sexuality of the young with beautiful images that transport us into her musings. Phrases like “dipped our grass-stained toes in puddles of each other” take you places you thought you had long forgotten.

As a mother, we suffer with her when she loses a child. One can only imagine the pain associated with this event. Ms. Monahan makes it easier to understand.

I believe that you chose me,
that those dozen days
were a loan I can never repay you.

We also explore her shattered faith as both a mother and a daughter that is reinforced by her loss:

With his own words, I find him
guilty —
murder one
of an innocent infant,
mine.

Never one to dwell on a topic for long, Ms. Monahan will have you smiling one minute and crying the next. Simple events take on special meaning when seen through the eyes of the author. Take a trip to the flea market or out to your backyard. In the company of Ms. Monahan, you’re sure to experience something new.

This “must have” collection comes in professional quality high-gloss covers with beautiful artwork for just $10. Order yours today:

http://www.chapbookenterprises.com/

Observations

I've pretty much come to the conclusion that I was meant to be an observer rather than a participant. I was an observer in Austin's life and I am an observer on the poetry board. Participation would hurt a whole lot more. Participation does hurt a whole lot more.

I'm done with being ignored. Of course, I said the same thing in April when I spent the whole month posting these entries that no one was interested in. I'll continue to help where I can, but my work will be kept to my blogs. I think for my own peace of mind, this is the way to go.

Frustration

It gets very frustrating when poems sink too quickly and when no one even bothers to read your work. I pride myself in completing my weekend's accomplishments on Friday night leaving myself free for the rest of the long holiday. It hurts, though, that acknowledgment doesn't happen. I firmly believe that is one of the reasons we write.

I heard Austin running around today. Apparently, he and Mike were back for a bit. They still haven't said goodbye. It felt good knowing Austin was here, though.

I haven't heard back from half drunken muse. I checked, though, and they haven't published a new edition of their ezine either. There's still hope. Pic of the Week has been put on hold. Because I knew this, I was in no hurry to complete this week's contribution. I finally did that last night. I've had all of one read there. The challenge was fun, but was much too easy. Feel free to take a look at Contraptions.

I got my edits done on Daydreams. It feels good to get some usable feedback. That idea of reciprocity is sorely lacking most of the time. I think that we have to set our own goals and gain satisfaction by our own measures. Some days, this is the only sense of accomplishment that we have.

Rollin Thunder

Rollin Thunder has had some pretty good posts lately. If you haven't visited recently, you should. Here's a link to this blog Rollin Thunder. I am, by the way, one of the co-editors on this blog. I owe them some words.

There are a couple post that could have easily been written by yours truly. If I ever wanted to reinforce the things I've been saying, this would do it. I'm simply not in the mood to fuel her fire. Now, if she wanted to fuel mine, I'd be willing to talk.

Have a great holidy weekend all.

Descriptive Phrases

When we pack up our houses to move, we label our boxes "kitchen," "bedroom," and "bath." We do similar things when we're moving offices. That is, unless you have my brother working for you. Ken was helping a neighbor pack up her office. Boxes were labeled "stuff." Other boxes were labeled "things." He tells me he even used "more stuff." Can you imagine my neighbor's exasperation when she went to unpack? What the hell does "stuff" mean? And, what "things?"

So, this is what we want to avoid when we right. We want all of our material objects to have the appropriate names and descriptions. We want proper introductions of our characters and their relationships to each other. We don't want to leave anyone guessing what's going on. We must give our readers enough so that their world in our writing makes sense.

We've talked about descriptions before. We don't need pages. We do need adequate descriptions. We need to make sense in what we are saying. We don't have to spell everything out; but if I were to walk toward a bed, you would get the idea that I was in a bedroom. You don't need to say it unless the bed happens to be somewhere that it doesn't belong.

Let's say that the bedroom is being painted and for a couple of days, we're sleeping in the dining room. It would then become important to know that the bed is not in its normal place. It simply takes a little common sense. You wouldn't expect someone to make a cup of coffee in a bathroom. If you were in a motel, though, this would be possible. Those details must be shared.

Think about what you're writing and fill in any detail that is pertinent. If something is out of place, it becomes pertinent. If something is used in a way that varies from the norm, it becomes pertinent. Be descriptive and have fun with it. Just get a sense when you've told us enough.

Bondo and Fiberglass

I remember my parent's driveway being littered with car parts. We even had an engine hoist or two. My brother would smear bondo on any surface that was reachable. A crack or dent in the car's body didn't stand a chance when Nick got it into his mind to fix it. Once the bondo dried, he would sand the area until it passed his test for excellence. The cars would look like hell until they were painted, but they sure looked pretty when he was done. He even painted them himself and got pretty good at it.

Well, the driveway is a little more presentable now. So is the garage. And, Nick doesn't do so much of the car thing any more. It just goes to show though, that even something that starts out as a piece of junk can turn into something wonderful. We should never give up on a piece of writing simply because it is bad. Of course, it is much better to say that if it isn't broke, don't fix it. If it is broke, though, fixing it can be a great project.

The thing we need to remember is that none of this needs to be accomplished overnight. The marathon race can last for years and is more satisfying if we can enjoy the sights along the way. But seriously, don't trash something because you are not satisfied with it. Look at the multiple drafts I wrote for Chicken Soup. The final draft still isn't there, but I knew the first couple writes had problems. I fixed the problems. Now I just need to wax and buff.

We'll be on the road again in no time.

Challenge Yourself

Never miss the opportunity to challenge one another. We found ourselves discussing specific words last night. I was told I should write a poem using those words. Ah, is that a challenge? And, we made it one. Challenges can be fun when two or more people are writing from the same cues. Try it some time.

Round robins are also good. I'm currently in one where six of us write following a story line or a theme. I'm seen some wonderful stuff conjured up in this type of atmosphere. The order of the participants changes with each round as does the subject or topic. It is the idea to build on what other's have written, but some of us have a tendency to be prepared and miss that opportunity.

There are so many things you can do to include others in your world. Try some of them and see where they take you.

Write While You Wait

When you’re sitting at work waiting for the job to finish or the application to come up, use that time to write. Keep it short and simple, but use the time. We don’t want anyone to get into trouble for not working. Think of all of the down times we have during the day especially during peak performance hours.

If we use our down time productively, the day goes by that much faster and we are less bored. If you have things on your desk that can be done, by all means, do them! If you add up all of the extra minutes there are in any given day, you’ll find they culminate into a nice chunk of time for writing.

Don’t simply stand in the shower. While you’re washing your body, try washing your mind as well. Think about the next story you want to write. Think about the revisions you need to do. Think even further ahead than that. Decide what your next major project will be. This may be one of the few minutes you have alone during the day. Take advantage of them!

Some of us just aren’t capable for multitasking to personal stuff during the work day. I understand this. If your couple minutes here or there only result in a to do list, that is good, too. The idea is to keep busy, keep working, and keep writing. If all you can manage is to write down ideas, do it. Ideas are the seed to growth. Maybe along with the idea, we can also make a note of how we want to use that idea. Is this idea a seed for a poem? Or, is it a main dish entrée for a story?

Just remember to be flexible. What sounded like a great story at 9:30 in the morning may well become a better poem when re-visited at 9:30 in the evening. If this is the case, now is the time to start thinking of the idea that really will make that story. Maybe you have more than one idea. Keep the ideas organized and accessible. You never know when you may get some more down time. Use it to your advantage!

Hmm

I'm also moving my poetry. I'm positive at this point that a few poems were written directly to the blog. This means I don't have another copy of them. That really sucks. Let's hope angelfire gets their act together real soon. Erin is already transferring her poetry tips to blogspot. She's a gem.

At the same time, I feel as though I failed her because I set up the original blog for the tips. I suppose as long as the tips are preserved, that's what really matters. Still...

Angelfire

Angelfire has a problem with their blog database. It is very frustrating to not know what is going on. If it ever works again, I will begin to transfer by work over here. I dread the whole process. Of course, that is assuming it ever works again. My web pages seem to be fine.

If I lose anything, I will be incredibly upset. I just don't know what else to do. I just read a bit ago that many angelfire members have had their sites deleted without warning. I don't think this is what's going on. However, if the database is not recovered, it may as well be.

We shall see.

Smoke Gets Everywhere

As the smoke clears and dust begins to settle, a new day dawns in my brain. I realize where I went wrong. Today should never have happened. The fire started when the drink I spilled met the cigarette I fell asleep on. The two took an instant liking to each other. Now, everything I own is charred and disintegrating to ash. I was fortunate that the smoke irritated Midnight enough that he dragged me from the couch in an effort to wake me up. In my drunken stupor, I fought him. The coughing finally brought me to my senses as we crawled in the general direction of the door and felt for the doorknob.

We found ourselves huddled on the sidewalk, my face buried in Midnight’s fur as sirens approached in the distance. Neighbors had thought to call the fire department, but none had ventured out to see if anyone was in harms way. I owed Midnight a lifetime of treats for being there when no one else was. Marci moved out the day before. Of course, that’s why I was drinking. I knew even as I gulped my Jack Daniels that the answers weren’t in the bottom of the glass. It is too late for that now.

Tears streamed from my face and wetted Midnight’s coat as the firemen arrived. After making sure that we were okay and no one else was inside, the set about to extinguish what was left of my life. It didn’t take that long, really. It was only a couple of hours before I was staring at the empty shell that used to be my home. I had no idea what we were going to do, but it would definitely be a different existence from the one I led yesterday. Midnight and I both knew we would be together for a long time.

Consequences

You never know where life might take you. Always consider the consequences of what you do. The person you work with today may one day interview you for the job you really want. The next thing you write might be published.

Always think ahead in what you do, what you say, and how you interact with others. This could help you in the long run.

More Inspiration Ideas

I read an interesting idea for writer's block today. Pull a book off your shelf and using a pin, open the book and stick a word with the pin. No peeking! Do this again. You now have two words to play with. See where those words take you.

Write a few sentences using these words. I've also heard there are web sites that will supply random word combinations to spur the imagination. The combinations might be bizarre at times, but that could be very good.

There are so many options available to writers suffering from writer's block. Now, don't shut this out...Poetry.com still does their magnetic poetry "poetry in motion" contest. I'm not suggesting that you actually participate in the contest. I'm suggesting that you go to the site and use their resources to get your juices flowing. If you come up with something good, write it down or type it out and then abort the operation. We don't want to contribute to their scam. I see no harm is using some of their resources though.

I still like the idea of taking a paragraph from a magazine and using those words as magnets. I know there are some advertisements that have some substantial copy. Can you imagine using the copy from a viagra advertisement to write a poem? I can see it now.

Go borrow some words and use them to write. And, have fun with it.

Sometimes

Sometimes being a writer doesn't pay. We're doing a publication at work. This publication used to be done quarter, then twice a year, and now annually. Because of one thing or another, the book is five months overdue. It should have been done in January. The last person that had my job left in February and I wasn't hired until the end of April.

Long story short, this book needs to be out like next week. It needs to at least be off my desk by next week. It is coming along quite nicely. The general idea right now is to get it done. We can make some real changes with the publication in January when we prepare the next edition.

The problem is that most of the information in this thing is simply carried forward from one period to the next. Dates and figures are updated to coincide with the current year, but the basic verbiage doesn't change much. The basic verbiage is in need of some serious help. I have updated some wording along the way, but there needs to be a major over-haul.

This is an internal document that basically shows our strengths and weaknesses. We are a health insurance company. When we start talking about market growth, people understand what we are talking about. When we try to talk about the reverse, I find it totally unacceptable to talk about retarded growth. That word just doesn't belong!

I vow that the next edition will have a new overview that uses fewer -ing words. I vow that the user of this document will not have to read a sentence three times to figure out what we're talking about. My co-worker and I have done just that and we're putting this document together.

This is only one of life's little challenges in the world of work. Even if I wasn't a writer, I would hope that I would have enough sense to know that this document could and should be better. Since I am a writer, I will do my damnedest to make sure that it turns out better. It is a little better now. It will be a whole lot better on the next go round.

Exercises

We've spent a lot of time talking about doing different things. It is harder to do than most people think. We get into a rut and just keep going forward the way we always have. Maybe what we've always done just doesn't work any more.

We may just be in need of fresh material. When was the last time you wrote about a picture? I have one waiting for me to write about it; usually I do them the day they are posted. Reminder to self, check Rolling Thunder to see if they have a new picture.

When was the last time you wrote an acrostic? Spell the word down the page and use that letter on each line to start your line. You can actually come up with some pretty interesting stuff doing this. Shall we try one now?

abnormal thoughts
create temporary
realities; beautiful
oxymorons clamor
starkly in attention.
temptuous vixens
itch to wontonly
control our spirits.

Okay, so it is disjointed and doesn't necessarily make a whole lot of sense, but I had fun. Didn't you? If you will read down the first letters, I spelled out acrostic. I think the word and the ideas are supposed to actually have some relationship. Tough!

Give it a shot.

Change

Change is always difficult. When we move away from the familiar and begin to explore uncharted waters, we must learn to swim or we drown. This is true in most every instance of change. A new job can be an excellent example of this. Sometimes we don't have the time and luxury of learning to swim, so we might swallow some water along the way. When someone leaves us, we experience change.

On a more positive note, though, sometimes change is much needed. Maybe the breast stroke just tires us out too much and we need to try the crawl for awhile. This can be very true in our writing. If you've been part of a web site for a long time, maybe it is time to find another outlet. If you've been a writer of poetry, maybe it is time to try some short stories. This change can be good.

When we change what we do, we are still, of course, influenced by what we've always done. The change can be a source of illumination and call to our attention our trends and tendencies. When we change the type of writing we do, it can make us stronger when we go back to the original. It gives us a new perspective within ourselves. Maybe we can look at a short story and say "what would I need from this story to make a poem?"

Whatever changes we make, they don't have to be big changes. I would not suggest that someone who has written their whole lifetime simply stop writing. That would be wrong. We want writing to be a part of our lives. We want it to be a daily exercise. We also want it to be fresh and exciting. Try to make a change. Remember, though...it is best shaken, not stirred.

Ignorance is No Excuse

Ignorance is no excuse for negativity and rudeness. I've been watching some of the younger members on the poetry board. The comments they make are horrible! The comments are downright rude.

By the time you reach your teens, you should be able to identify the components of a sentence. You should at least know that they start with a capital letter and end with a period. I find myself having to re-read some of these comments and mentally insert the periods.

If nothing else, you should be capable of a complete thought. Spelling is another issue altogether. Most of the subject matter deals with "love." Most of the comments deal with "hate." I attribute this to the fact that they just don't know any better.

And what does "ok" mean when you're critiquing a poem? I think these kids needs to do some growing up before they venture out into the world wide web. They could get crushed so easily by adults that just have so much more experience.

The Ending Wrote Itself

When you see Mike and Austin together, you just have to smile. They are so different. Mike is tall, dark-haired, lanky and quiet. Mike wears glasses. Last time I looked, though, he was not sporting a pocket protector. He does have a heart of gold, though. Austin is short, blond-haired, outgoing, and independent. Of course, Austin is only five years old so he has an excuse for being short. Just like salt and pepper, when you find one, you expect to find the other. I feel privileged to have Salt and Pepper as my neighbors.

Our building has four apartments, two on each floor. Mike and Austin have the other apartment on the first floor. The apartments are long with a hallway that runs the full length from the living room to the dining room. Kids love this hallway, it is their runway. I take pleasure in hearing Austin come home from day care. He tears down that hallway as if he’s impatient to see everything he missed during the day. I hear him through the walls and say “Austn’s home!” I don’t see my neighbors often, but will always gravitate to my back door if I hear a child’s voice on the porch. I’m considering calling Austin my little leprechaun since he was born March 17. Maybe he’ll lead me to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Austin joined our neighborhood almost three years ago. When his mother died unexpectedly, his uncle, Mike, took him in. Austin’s father was in prison for crimes against Austin that are too horrible to recount. Mike became his world. It was obvious the feeling was mutual. From the very beginning of this newfound relationship, Mike decided to adopt his nephew. In March of this year, he succeeded in his quest. Since I don’t have children of my own, I rather “adopted” Austin. Every time I got a toy in a box of cereal, or with the purchase of another product, I put it aside for him. At Christmas, I would buy him some coloring books and crayons. They were always little things, but to Austin, they meant something. Now, though, when he sees me he wants to know if I have any presents for him. I think we need to break the cycle just a bit.

Mike got sick a few months back. When his car didn’t move for several days, I finally knocked on his door to see what was going on. After several weeks of illness, he was diagnosed with mono. Since he was very weak, Austin was spending some time with other family members out of town. He and Mike spoke daily on the telephone; but it was the first time they had been apart in two years. It was hard on both of them. Such is the trial of single parenting. Fortunately, Austin seems to be quite hardy. Aside from the scar that was a souvenir from his father, he’s quite a healthy little boy.

I learned today that Mike has bought a condominium. My Salt and Pepper will be moving. Since Austin will be starting kindergarten in September, Mike needed to make some choices about schools. He did not feel the schools in this area would do. Austin deserves to have a real home. Currently, Mike sleeps in the sunroom of the apartment so that Austin and his roommate had their own bedrooms. This was part of the adoption process so that the child would not feel as if he was a disruption in the household. He needed to have his own space, his own room. There are only two bedrooms on that side of the building.

The back porch and driveway of our building aren’t very good playgrounds for kids. The elementary school playground is not that far away and is a great treat for Austin, but it is not the same as having your own yard right outside your door. It is also not something that Austin can really do on his own. So, I’m very happy for both of them. I will definitely miss Austin when he moves. I will miss Mike, too, but I probably wouldn’t have really known Mike if it hadn’t been for the little boy who stole my heart.

The red tape Mike went through to provide a home for Austin will remain vivid in my mind. The slowness of the adoption process and inappropriate consideration for the natural father will always cause me to shake my head. An adoption of a foreign child would have been a much faster process. Mike is undoubtedly a stronger person today than he was before Austin came to him. He will be a good father. I hope Austin one day realizes just how lucky he is.

---

Today is such a big day
in your young life.
You’ve gone from “uncle” to “dad”
at the fate of the court.
All of your hard work,
persistence, love, and money
have paid off.
Your sister couldn’t have
asked for more.

Most of all, your belief
in the good things in life
have saved you both.
Look forward
with pride and hope.
You have
a wonderful son
and he,
a perfect father.

Years Later

There's no law that says how something must be done. I'm of the opinion that as long as the job gets done and no one gets hurt, it doesn't matter how it is accomplished. Of course, the definition of hurt is relative.

I've finally got some constructive feedback on some poetry I wrote last month. I copied the comments into an email to myself just so that I wouldn't lose them. I was actually ready to believe there was nothing wrong with the poem. I'm so glad I had a second set of eyes looking out for me.

I've gone back and revised or re-written poems from my high school days. Once I knew how wrong they were, it was relatively easy to pick up where I left off all those years ago. Hopefully, this last revision will only take me a couple of days rather than a couple of years.

Happy weekend all!

Back on Track

Every so often, it is okay to go off on a tangent. We need variety and spice and everything nice. It provides us with a treat or retreat. Eventually, though, we need to get back on track.

I reread the chicken soup guidelines the other day. I think I will read them a couple more times and then tackle Mike's story again. I need to watch my word count as well as follow the instructions. I do want to include the poem I wrote after the story. I have to also change the names in the story. If anyone has any ideas for replacement names for Mike and Austin, I'm all ears.

Even though yesterday was totally out of character for me in this blog, I wrote a poem about death after that entry. We find our inspiration in all sorts of circumstances. This was doubly true last night. Sometimes we just need to write about what's going on around us. Unless something untoward happens in the near future, maybe we can put the morbid thoughts to bed.

It may be that I need to line up another project for when chicken soup is done. Since I really don't have one in mind, I'm in no hurry to finish it. Also, Saturday will be one month since I made my last submission to an online ezine. I haven't heard a thing. Of course, some people have been waiting for two months, so I suppose I shouldn't complain.

We'll get back to business tomorrow. In the meantime I'd like to wish anyone reading a happy and lucky Friday the 13th. The last time we had a Friday the 13th in May, I was laid off from a job at the hospital where I'd worked for almost 14 years. We did, of course, get two weeks notice prior. Let's not have anything like that this time.

Can't Win

People are dropping like flies around here. Every time I turn around someone has lost a cousin or a brother. Two people I know have recently traveled to Pennsylvania for funerals. One fellow employee was shot in the head by her husband weekend before last. Another is brain dead from a stroke last night.

It doesn't matter how old you are. Death can be waiting for you around the next corner. So, why are we sitting on our asses extending an invitation? It is time to think of ways to make ourselves less attractive to the grim reaper.

I was looking for the obituary of the brother of my old supervisor. I had no idea what her maiden name was. I went to Cleveland.com and came up empty. There were many souls listed that were a ripe old age, in their 80s and 90s. In between these entries was a 32 year old father of two. Depressing.

I later found out this man was living in Erie, PA. I did a search for Erie, PA, obituaries and found a newspaper site. I still didn't have a name, but I found him under the Zs. This man was 50 years old. Rumor has it that he suffered a massive heart attack during an epileptic seizure. You just never know.

I urge you to change something in your life today. I don't want to be doing any more searches for obituaries. I have enough trouble trying to locate people in my family tree; I don't need any recent deaths to deal with for now.

Amazing

I think it is pretty amazing how much we feed off each other. I wrote a poem the other night about people in relationships growing complacent. It may well have been the result of a round robin I'm in since there is no truth to the poem. The round robin started with something of a romantic poem. We have progressed a bit from unrequited love to affairs and when it came to be my turn, the poem I had written was perfect for where the group was heading. I used it. Its one of those things that if the shoe fits, wear it.

I also had a crap day at work yesterday. I was totally nonproductive and was ready to pull my hair out. With that and some other stuff going on, I wrote a poem about silence and avoidance. That poem sparked a responding poem on another blog. My reaction was "WHOA!" Amazing.

Yet another poem I wrote, I can't pronounce or spell the form, was in response to people not leaving comments when they visit. I guess you could say that I have been busy feeding off one thing or another. So, of course, there is a lesson to be learned in all of this. Reading can supply inspiration. Read other's poems and blogs. Comment every so often too while you're at it.

Abyss

I have a goal to write something memorable. I'm tired of watching my work sink into the abyss with little will to live. I refuse to believe that my writing is just okay. I definitely need to find a new audience.

I believe the art of writing requires many such adjustments. We may adjust our writing styles, our subject matter, and where we market our finished product. The key is finding the balance in all things. What is it they say, moderation in all things? Curbing what we do may also curb the reactions we receive.

Moderation is not the answer. I say we go for all things whole heartedly. Of course, we may be setting ourselves up for rejection, but consider the possibility of not being rejected. What happens when we are successful? Is that the end? Of course not. Success is only the beginning. Success is something to continually strive for in our lives. If we are successful once, we are likely to want to be successful again.

Go for it!

Updated Draft

When you see Mike and Austin together, you just have to smile. They are so different. Mike is tall, dark-haired, lanky and quiet. Mike wears glasses. Last time I looked, though, he was not sporting a pocket protector. He does have a heart of gold, though. Austin is short, blond-haired, outgoing, and independent. Of course, Austin is only five years old so he has an excuse for being short. Just like salt and pepper, when you find one, you expect to find the other. I feel privileged to have Salt and Pepper as my neighbors.

Our building has four apartments, two on each floor. Mike and Austin have the other apartment on the first floor. The apartments are long with a hallway that runs the full length from the living room to the dining room. Kids love this hallway, it is their runway. I take pleasure in hearing Austin come home from day care. He tears down that hallway as if he’s impatient to see everything he missed during the day. I hear him through the walls and say “Austn’s home!” I don’t see my neighbors often, but will always gravitate to my back door if I hear a child’s voice on the porch. I’m considering calling Austin my little leprechaun since he was born March 17. Maybe he’ll lead me to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Austin joined our neighborhood almost three years ago. When his mother died unexpectedly, his uncle, Mike, took him in. Austin’s father was in prison for crimes against Austin that are too horrible to recount. Mike became his world. It was obvious the feeling was mutual. From the very beginning of this newfound relationship, Mike decided to adopt his nephew. In March of this year, he succeeded in his quest.

Since I don’t have children of my own, I rather “adopted” Austin. Every time I got a toy in a box of cereal, or with the purchase of another product, I put it aside for him. At Christmas, I would buy him some coloring books and crayons. They were always little things, but to Austin, they meant something. Now, though, when he sees me he wants to know if I have any presents for him. I think we need to break the cycle just a bit.

Mike got sick a few months back. When his car didn’t move for several days, I finally knocked on his door to see what was going on. After several weeks of illness, he was diagnosed with mono. Since he was very weak, Austin was spending some time with other family members out of town. He and Mike spoke daily on the telephone; but it was the first time they had been apart in two years. It was hard on both of them. Such is the trial of single parenting. Fortunately, Austin seems to be quite hardy. Aside from the scar that was a souvenir from his father, he’s quite a healthy little boy.

Twenty Minute Test

I read an article yesterday that made so much sense. We've talked previously about setting aside a specific time each day to write. This goes one step better. Say you really are not in the mood to write today, take the twenty minute test. After twenty minutes, if you're still of the same mindset, quit. Otherwise, you've written for twenty minutes and you might as well keep going.

I thought this was great! Twenty minutes isn't so long that you feel you're wasting precious time. Twenty minutes is only a small slice of your day. The idea, though, is that once you actually start doing it, you'll do more. That way, too, on those days where you really aren't in the mood and quit after 20 minutes, there's no need to feel guilt.

I don't know how many of us really feel guilt for not writing, but still. Give it 20 and if it doesn't work, you've still done something. There's also the idea that if we do things in smaller pieces, we have more chances of feeling a sense of accomplishment. Some days, the accomplishment will be to last the 20 minutes.

Next time you're not in the mood to do something, take the twenty minute test. You might surprise yourself. This could work for anything including exercising...

Rambling On

Things are not always as they seem. Let’s hope this is true because they seem pretty dreary. I guess since spring is here, other avenues seem more attractive. There is more daylight, more sunshine, and maybe even more happiness. Yet the world is still full of the same unhappy people that lived yesterday. Have you ever wondered why unhappy people try to make everyone else feel the same way? This is something that bothers me.

While I, personally, might not be a happy person, I am more or less content. I know that contentment is not I word I want to use about myself for long. I would not be where I am today if I were merely content. Maybe it would be better to say that I am content but not complacent. At this point, these are mere words and don’t mean anything other than what I attribute to them.

Isn’t that the whole point of this blog? To find meaning in our words. To make our words have meaning.

Exactly, and there are unlimited way to do this. Poetry is a more immediate form of writing. We want our readers to see and feel what we are writing about. Okay, so I got another crummy review. I seriously don’t think my reader even tried to understand what I was writing about. Because he didn’t get it, though, I was told that I didn’t think it through. I think he got that backwards.

I have no idea what the point of this post is. It may simply be a chance to hear myself think. It may be simply to not break my habit. It quite possibly is an attempt to stir up some inspiration. Get down anything that wants to work. There may be an idea hidden somewhere in the garbage. It is time to inspect our own trash.

There Comes a Time

There comes a time when you have to start wondering whether any of the things you do make a difference. This post makes 60 days since I started the blog. There's one additional post for the counter. For the month of April, National Poetry Month, I posted an entry a day from this blog. The responses were disappointing to say the least. I did, at least, get more comments at MoontownCafe than I do here, but still. The number of reads averaged around a dozen. One day, I barely had four reads.

I keep trying to convince myself that I'm doing this for myself. Some day, little tidbits from these entries will all come together to create one hell of an article. Maybe I'll actually have more than one. I have two semi-articles already started plus the ones from Wired Poet. These incomplete projects will re-surface and get done. Same with the short stories I started a couple of years ago...lol

Who am I kidding? Today I will convince myself that I do this simply to see myself in print. The page looks nice and it looks like I'm doing something constructive. Maybe it is simply wasted space. I deserve the space, thank you very much.

Chicken Soup deserves a break today. I did, however, ask Mike how old he was. He is so young at 26, and now he has a 5 year old son. Amazing

Choices

For the past couple of days, I've been struggling with choices. I know exactly what I want to do and I know the story well. Two days ago, I captured the facts. The facts are very dry. Yesterday, I took a stab at the beginnings of a story. The angle I chose was still very factual.

I am not a stranger to story writing. I have written a few. At times like this, I wish I had a few more under my belt; but, I know I can do this. It is only a matter of finding the correct approach, the right tone, and getting to it. I may be on the right track now.

There are so many different ways to write the same story. I've been trying to follow some on of own advice as well. I'm writing what I know. I went with the flow in getting the facts down on paper. I put the not-so-good work aside to come back to it. And I keep coming back. I have the drive and determination to write this story and have it accepted.

If nothing else, I will have the satisfaction of writing a story that is well worth telling. That can be enough. I will keep you posted on my progress.


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When you see Mike and Austin together, you just have to smile. They are so different. Mike is tall, dark-haired, lanky and quiet. Mike wears glasses. Last time I looked, though, he was not sporting a pocket protector. He does have a heart of gold, though. Austin is short, blond-haired, outgoing, and independent. Of course, Austin is only five years old so he has an excuse for being short. Just like salt and pepper, when you find one, you expect to find the other. I feel privileged to have Salt and Pepper as my neighbors.

Our building has four apartments, two on each floor. Mike and Austin have the other apartment on the first floor. The apartments are long with a hallway that runs the full length from the living room to the dining room. Kids love this hallway, it is their runway. I take pleasure in hearing Austin come home from day care. He tears down that hallway as if he’s impatient to see everything he missed during the day. I hear him through the walls and have to smile. I don’t see my neighbors often, but will always gravitate to my back door if I hear a child’s voice on the porch. I’m considering calling Austin my little leprechaun since he was born March 17. Maybe he’ll lead me to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Austin joined our neighborhood almost three years ago. When his mother died unexpectedly, his uncle, Mike, took him in. Austin’s father was in prison for crimes against Austin that are too horrible to recount. Mike became his world. It was obvious the feeling was mutual. From the very beginning of this newfound relationship, Mike decided to adopt his nephew. In March of this year, he succeeded in his quest.

Start of Another Draft

Single parenting has to be a hardship under normal circumstances. It is becoming more and more common as well. People are even choosing to become single parents. This brings up issues dealing with daycare while the parent is at work, babysitting for social engagements, and healthcare considerations to name a few. The complication of children in the single’s market is no picnic. Many individuals simply don’t want ready-made families. The family is being re-defined.

The state of single parenting often is unexpected. The parents divorce, a parent dies, or an unplanned pregnancy complicates issues. There are many reasons for the rise in single parenting. Today, I’d like to tell you the story of a single parent. Many of us have god parents and we don’t think much about them. We pray that our own parents will live long and healthy lives and that we won’t need our god parents.

My neighbor, Mike was made god father to his nephew, Austin. When his sister died unexpectedly, Austin came to live with him. Austin’s father was not available and would not be a suitable father. Mike found himself with all the responsibilities of a single parent overnight. Most times, there is something of a conversion from a two-parent family to a one-parent family. Or, there is a pregnancy that hones in on the fact that things are going to change. In this case, Mike had an instant child. He didn’t have the pregnancy and birth to prepare him. Seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, Mike had a child in his care.

Very Rough Draft

One of my goals is to get something published in Chicken Soup. They pay for stories. One of their possible titles is Chicken Soup for the Adopted Soul. I thought I might try to do Mike and Austin's story. I jotted it down today, but it needs lots of work. If you have any suggestions, please make them.

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I suppose Mike’s life was relatively normal for someone his age. He had a decent job and was taking classes when he could. He had a place to live and still saw his family as often as possible. He had a roommate, but could come and go as he pleased.

Things changed overnight for Mike. When his sister died suddenly, he was the godfather to her child. Austin was only two when his mom died. She had her wisdom teeth out during the afternoon. Several hours later, she died of cardiac complications. She had an undiagnosed heart condition that surfaced with the dental work. Since Austin’s father was not around, Mike stepped up to his responsibilities.

Starting in October, 2002, Mike and Austin became an inseparable pair. From the very beginning, Mike pursued the adoption of Austin. It was what his sister would have wanted. It was what Mike wanted. Austin thrived under Mike’s care. Austin would attend day care while Mike worked. Weekends seemed to be spent visiting various family members.

The adoption process becomes costly and lengthy. One would think the process would be easier for those adopting members of their own family. The adoption was to be finalized December, 2004. December became January and finally a hearing was scheduled. This hearing was accompanied by a surprise.

Austin’s father put in an appearance for the first time. He expressed an interest in his child. The father had been receiving notification of proceedings all along and never responded or sent a representative to speak for him. It was a very stressful day to say the least.

It seems the reason Dad never showed at any of the hearings was that he was incarcerated. When Austin was 22 months old, his father drop-kicked the child and caused severe injury. He was sentenced to four years in April of 2002. We are unsure how he was released after less than half of his sentence was served, but there he was. The court set a new hearing date for March 8, 2004. At this time, they would determine whether Dad would have any rights for visitation or custody.

There was always the possibility the court would rule in favor of the natural parent and grant custody to the father even if he almost killed the child. As far as everyone was concerned, the court should never have granted the request of the father. Fortunately, when the new hearing date came about, he didn’t show up. Instead, the court rescheduled the final adoption hearing right there and then and granted Mike full custody.

As unexpectedly as this whole ordeal started, it was over. Mike went from being an uncle to being a father in a matter of minutes. Austin is five years old now. The majority of his young life as been spent living with Mike. I doubt he remembers much of his mom. His dad always lived far, far away. When someone asked Austin where his father was, he would respond, “Oh, Mike’s at work.”

I have no doubt there will be complications in this relationship. Mike is legally Austin’s father now but will accept any address Austin is comfortable with. Mike is still young and might be interested in marriage and a family some day. With Austin already part of his life, this might be a bit more complicated. Neither Mike nor Austin would have it any other way.

I’m reminded of Mutt and Jeff when I see the two of them together. Just yesterday, Mike picked up a bookcase from the curb and Austin insisted on helping him carry it home. They are the most unlikely pair, yet they complement each other.

To Preserve or Destroy

I just read a news story about Tibetan monks who spent a week creating a sand panting only to destroy it. The destruction symbolizes impermanence of material things, even those things of beauty. They simply sweep up all their hard work. The sand is given away or added back to nature. This last sand painting was absolutely gorgeous!

Words are probably the easiest to destroy. We can simply push a button to delete a word or an entire document. Thankfully, not all of us feel as the Tibetan monk’s do. Preservation seems to be the order of the day. When we write, there is usually a reason behind it. Even if the reason loses its meaning over time, the writing meant something to us. We preserve that piece of time.

We can often look back at our work and know what was going on at the time it was written. Our works, to us, are something of a diary of our days. Since some writing is said to be cathartic, even darker writes are preserved. Those darker days are still a part of us and the writing documents that fact.

To destroy our words is to destroy part of us. Just like a snapshot that captures a specific moment, our words capture a specific mood or time period. Of course, the author may be the only person to know the true significance of the words, but significant they are. Let’s say, for example, that we’ve written a very upbeat piece. We may know that this upbeat piece is uncharacteristic since we suffer from depression. Our readers might not know this.

Material things quite probably shouldn’t have as much meaning as they do, but art comes from deep within each person. I can’t see the justification of destroying it.