On the Importance of St. Nick.

Before you read this, know I believe in St. Nick.

Serenity, Muppets, Matrix, Don’t Stop Believing, Believe in a little thing called Love, I Believe I can Fly. Belief. Listen for that word. Daily you'll hear the media preaching it to us and our children: Believe. Is it just an American Ideal?

It is a known fact that the best way to learn is through simulation. Play is simulation, just ask the sparring cub, the little girl playing house or the little boy with the building blocks.

Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Halloween are these merely our way to teach children to believe in God, or do we teach them to believe in lies?  Why should we teach them to believe in something that shouldn’t exist? Why don’t we just tell them the reality, teach them to accept the world for what it is? Why not go to the North Pole and kill the fat guy right now?

Because a child who believes in something as obscure as Santa Claus, will believe in obscure clichés like Love, Hope, Justice, Equality and Freedom. The child who believes in fairies and werewolves will know how to believe his presence on Earth is worth living, even when all thoughts say otherwise.

Look at Monarch Kings and Queens and Grecian heroes and religions. Why were they important? They were a symbol for people to believe in. Look at our own symbol. When all hope was lost, we believed and our flag was still there. Truly, there is something very powerful about belief, and absolutely worth teaching to our children.

In the Hogfather, Death sums it up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnaQXJmpwM4

Merry Christmas.

15min_Snow Dancing

I started doing a fifteen minute daily free-write. Perhaps it would be nice to share some of them.

The penguins and the kangaroos were boundin and a banging around in the north cold. The penguin talking to the Roo was like shoo, you new yew. Show yo bro your toe. A pace, a sec, a millisec went by and the Roo kicked the PenGuin in the beak. The Guin bounced back with a flop . He flipped, and he flopped, and he danced, hither and whither, a soft spitter and spatter, along the crystallized snow, and the face of the bro, the Gorilla: It started to become all aglow. “Let me try that.” He boomed. “You sure should” Bounced the boasting Kanga, bounding along the whispy snow. “It’s mighty right fun.”

Boom Boom Boom Crack crack creak. Poor Gorilla. A little too much rock in his bones. Each pound zoomed through the soft layer of snow and rattled the ice underneath. The ground began to shake and split. A Creak and a crack. “Oh no!!“ Squeaked the Guin. He stopped pattling along. The Roo stopped aboundin. But old Rilla. He had no clue what was ahappening and kept right along pounding the ground to his own little tune. Soon. Penny Guin found himself jigging along on the soft wispy snow in fright, squeaking in soft concern, being on a soft white island in the flowing rivers of blue around him. Still Rilla pounded, Boom Boom Boom. Crack Crack Crack. All the while, the yelling of Kangaroo begging Gorilla to stop played on in the background. But oh, it wasn’t until Kangaroo’s yelling drowned into a gurgle as the hopper slipped into the frozen sea, with his big toes bobbing up in the water. But it was too late. Two cracks creaked between the Gorilla’s legs. Two islands dragged his legs further apart. He was promised a fun little dip in moments. Even the General Giraffe , who was quietly minding his own business, sun-tanning in the corner, found himself with a impending date with hypothermia. The ivy snow cracks slid under his towel and began pulling the pieces out. The whale saved everyone.

NaNoWriMo Report.

I bet most of you (if any) are wondering. How’s my story going? Well…Truthfully, it’s not. I dropped all the scarves juggling. Doesn’t mean there’s nothing productive to be thankful for. Just because a bird falls from the nest the first time, doesn’t mean he won’t fly. What I do have of the story is epic and slowly the rest will trail along. So, for those of you believing in me thank you and don’t stop.

Here's an excerpt. Remember: It's a rough draft.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” The goldfish said.

“Oh. Um. I’m William.”

The goldfish gasped! Flowing backwards, his mouth swung wide open.

“The William?”

“Um. William. Yeah. I guess so. I’m talking to a goldfish cracker?”

“The William? The hero that has been foretold through the tides to defeat the windy demon? My dear friend if I had fins I would shake your hand!”

“What? No! Demon? What? I’m no hero!! Get away from me! I’m just looking for my cousin. She ran ashore just now.” Will said brushing off the bustling cracker swirling around his head excitedly. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by dozens and dozens of cheesy crackers nudging up against him, all shrieking excitedly with shrill voices. William waved his arms around like a madman, desperately trying to shake them off. Frantically he grabbed one. He plopped it in his mouth. Crunch. The fish gasped. The shrieking stopped. There was a moment of shock. Then, in unison the crackers turned red. Cheese red. Suddenly, William found himself dolphin kicking ferociously away from a school of murderous goldfish crackers.

For the Veterans

There is something about living for a greater cause that makes life worth living.

A while back my little brother commented on a conversation we had about the movie Bodyguards and Assassins.

"You're right. I'm.doing a paper on Gandhi and assassination is one of the biggest compliments" He posted.  

In my deep way, I responded:

 

"It's more than that. True- The fact that he died for such a cause showed the world that such a cause is worth more than life itself- therefore I can't think of a better confirmation of something's worth than martyrdom. Look at Saving Private Ryan. Look at how touched Ryan was. But it goes beyond that. The second we discover that something is worth more than ourselves we start thinking about the ways we can use our death to serve that cause. 911. Leave it to humans to discover the power of one's own death. 

Even greater and more powerful is when one figures out how to use their life for a greater cause. One's life has so much more to give than one's death. In fact, one's life is truly a frightening force to reckon with. Now when life and death are both used for the sake of a cause-- that is true martyrdom. And that kinda power is just plain scary."

While they may not be Gandhi's (or Gumby's--only the greatest character ever!=P), these people are using both lives and deaths to serve America. People like them have been the driving force behind America rocking the world from foundation day. For all that they've done. Thank you.

Bottom of Form

Belief

Last Friday, 11/4/11

I saw a Knight’s Tale again.

It inspired this epic conclusion

I'd been pondering for a while:

My life shall be my canvas,

My art shall be my lance

And with the emblem of God,

I shall change the stars.

And in doing so, the sky will be more beautiful

than it ever was.

That is the American dream.

Believe.

When we achieve our dreams, nay, when we pursue our dreams

We change the world around us for the better.

It is an American responsibility, then, for everyone

to achieve their dreams and make the world a better place.

Saturday 10/29/11

This past Saturday I took an amazing class lead by David Liss over at Gemini Ink. There he handed us many tools on the best way to survive NaNoWriMo. Funny thing is, many of the things he told us, I was already doing the opposite.

---“Never do a Dream sequence. ”

The premise of my story.

---“Stay away from writing about yourself. It adds an extra layer of work.”

Apart from my senior thesis, I have never written a story so close to myself.

---“Writing takes work.”

Between dancing, juggling two jobs and searching for a third, it is going to a take lot of prioritizing and discipline to find the time to write the necessary amount.

Why do I always choose the hardest assignments? Just once, I want to choose an easy story about a frog.

So, the story I am planning on writing is about a preteen kid who never dreams. Then one night, his father tells him that the reason he never dreams is because he is scared to do so. But he should dream, because who knows what awesome things he is missing. Sure enough, that night William has the most epic dream of his life, he hunts down the demon from his past and just before he kisses a girl, he wakes up. According to Liss, the problem with the dream sequence is that there is nothing at stake. I am planning on placing the entire fate of the dream world in the hands of this one kid. The goal is to vamp up the craziness, and the awesomeness, like Kingdom of Hearts, The Matrix, or a Knights Tale. At the end of the novel, I want two reactions--Whoa and awesome.

Who believes I can successfully finish my draft?

Thursday 10/27/11

To show the magic of the world, allow me to relay the events of last Thursday evening. Originally I planned to go straight from work to blues at Trinity University. However, I got out of work an hour early. So I went to Trinity University whereupon I locked my keys and my jacket in the car. Whoop-de-do. So to escape the freezing wind, I found myself inside, where I met a lovely lady at the front desk and heard all about her coming trip to Australia. The smile on her face was magic enough. I called AAA, and a series of unforeseen coincidences led me straight to Trinity Review’s Scary Story Contest!! Up till now, as former Chair of PR, I had no idea it was going on!!! So I went and enjoyed that event, listening to some hardcore, awe inspiring readings.

After a pleasant chat with the AAA guy, I meandered over to the Swashbuckler hall. (The Swashies are a pirate loving community hall I had been heavily involved with). Turns out they were hard at work polishing the details the night before Friday’s event, the annual Swashbuckler Haunted Hall. After a visitation with them, I went blues dancing. Blues is always magical.

After the dance, me and a friend walked out towards our car. I started talking about the works at the Scary Story Contest, my goals to write the next Great American Novel, and my goal to complete NaNoWriMo. He shrugs in his wizardly fashion. (I’m not sure whether he appreciates this comparison, but with the trench coat, frizzy hair and warm, knowledgeable smile, a wizard never looked more like a wizard). Turns out the wizard has done NaNoWriMo a multitude of times, and plans to do it again. That night, on Facebook I wrote: “Proof of magic in the world: locked keys in the car turn out to be a blessing and God keeps nudging me in the write direction.”

Writing: Advice from a Career Counselor

There is something therapeutic about a doctor’s office, in any form. Sitting in the waiting room of the career service office today, I thought about what I wanted to be when I grow up. Later, in the doctor’s office, we finally pinpointed the source of my injury—The problem wasn’t that I didn’t know what I wanted to be. The problem was that I didn’t want to acknowledge what I want to be. The only sure fire thing I knew I want to do in five years is to write.

“But there is no shame in being the starving writer.” The doctor consoles me. “Some people think you’re not a writer unless you are published, but the truth is, and every writer will confirm this, the writer is the one who writes.” She says. “Treat writing like a job. Your job is to write. Your job is to write for a minimum of two hours every day.” She says.

Such odd advice for a career counselor. I was expecting to hear how to get a job working for some company that will pay the bills. But she is right, because in reality, that is the short term. Paying the bills: that is where all writers begin. The true job, the true career, however, is writing. I remember R.L. Stein saying the same thing: Write like it’s a job. Same time, every day, don’t be late or you’re fired.

Few modern writers I know of write for the bills. Some literature may pay the bills, Harry Potter, but these are rarely the end-goal. I am glad. It is a sign that today’s literature comes from the heart, baked in sweat and tears over the author’s nightly desk. It is crafted with drooping eyes and aching fingers. In theory, this should ensure the greatest quality of literature. In theory it ensures that only the best is created by and worth that amount of sacrifice. While the degree and the money and some sort of certificate helps, the true professional writer is he who writes for a living.

Magic of the World

I dance a lot. Like music, there is a lot of magic in dancing. Sometimes, if you watch blues dancers out of the corner of your half-closed eyes, you will see magic in its truest form. The blue lights, listless eyes, rhythm of the body coinciding with the rhythm of the beat. The soul will confirm it is from another world.

The eyes of the angry man glow red in the lamplight and the weary eyes of a whore look as from behind a mask: demonic. The sun glistens on a kind soul, and a crystal child's laugh: angelic. The gossipy girl gossips because she is addicted to the lives of other people: vampiric. The gossip girl really is sucking the life forces of those around her. Why do you think she is so irritating?

Daily, we come across these moments we know are significant but we have no way to calculate it, put it into words and understand it. Like math we use fantasy to calculate these things, but magic. Just feel. That feeling you get at Disney World. That is magic. True, someday science will calculate it. But while one can understand a flower, a flower is still a flower.

Feel. Listen. The melody of the world will show it to you. The starry night sky, the setting sun, the ominous cavern, the hell of war, the unexplained healing of a loved one, the falling rain: all magical. I could talk about it just as I could describe the taste of Coca-cola. But you will never truly understand the taste of Coca-cola until you drink it.

Drink from the magic of the world and you will discover the literal demons, the real angels, wizards and elves. They are not just imagination. They are reality, and as such, they have a direct impact over our daily lives… 

The ghostly dancers are dancing in the blue light. The universe is singing magical tunes. It’s beautiful. Listen. The way you would appreciate a setting sun, listen...