You Can Run, BUT…

All this time and no new post.  Seems you have to have something of value to say… figured that I didn’t so why waste anyone’s time, right?  Not that I have anything remarkable or earth shattering to say now.  Checking in, exorcising demons… flexing the brain in hope that the muses come back.

And they already have… more on that in a minute.

Been an eventful year thus far.  Working steadily for the past seven months  (unlike this time last year), finished my first novel, saw my eldest daughter pass her state boards to become a certified nursing assistant after she paid for 80% of her tuition, saw my youngest daughter get accepted into one of the most prestigious acting schools on the planet and last, but not least, have completely transformed my body from a 265lb blob to a 230lb (and dropping), leaned-out dude with one last layer of fat hiding a six-pack that I NEVER thought would be seen on this body in this lifetime.

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Six Draft, Seven Draft, Eight Draft, Nine…

It occurred to me less than five minutes ago that I may have missed my calling.  Did the rock / r&b drummer thing (loved it, miss it!), me and Excel are tighter than pantyhose two sizes too small but accounting is a bit, well, soulless.  I love, love, LOVE writing!

Expected a “but”, didn’t you?  No buts on that one, I love to write!  Still determining the difference between writer and storyteller because I don’t like to use a lot of words.  I often feel inadequate because my style is so raw and lean compared to the average author.  On the other hand, my readers (the ones I’ve discussed this with) think that it sets me apart.  I liken my style to The Atkins Diet: all protein, no carbs.  But I digress to…


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“NO… MORE… SELF-IMPOSED DEADLINES!!!” (…imagine the “Mommy Dearest” voice)

We won’t even get into it.  Nope, don’t ask cause I damn sure won’t tell.

I lied.

“No more self-imposed deadlines” is my mantra for 2012.  Not a new year’s resolution because… wait.

Yeah, it is a resolution, huh?  Sigh.
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Loss of Confidence… (and that’s alright!)

That’s me.  Zero confidence in my writing.  Not writer’s block.  Creating content isn’t the problem.  Reread my recent work on Chapter 20 and it was garbage.

It was a rushed four-paragraph, section of a first draft.  In other words, it should have been garbage.

Wanted to finished in October, work on the second draft through the end of the year.  Didn’t quite work out as planned.

…and that’s alright!

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Prince vs The Grizzly Bear


That last post wore me out.  So sick, sick, sick of That Story That Shan’t be Named, need a dose of “light and breezy” for sanity’s sake.  Have one in mind that’s disturbing yet humorous, a suitable antidote to last week’s poison.  Must ask a qualifying question first:

Ever walked in on your parents having sex?

If the answer is “yes”, then EWWWWW!  THAT MESS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME, SO “HA”!  I did hear my mother having sex once.  Shit scarred me for life.

I was 20.

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What’s the Definition of Failure (PENN STATE)?


Word’s been on my mind since early this morning.  Sick to my stomach after I read grand jury testimony relating to the Penn State University scandal, day got off to an ominous start.

Thought I saw a reflection of me at my worst two hours later… just my youngest displaying some of what I gave her via osmosis or DNA.

Took a problem at work to an involved party who was 100% focused on resolution… until she recognized she didn’t have culpability after all.

I tried to be happy all day… sadness hung like I was Bad Luck Schlep Rock (don’t act like you didn’t watch “The Flintstones”).

Failure is difficult to define.  Varies from person-to-person, inherently subjective often elective… we can choose to fail.  I can write pretty words, make ’em flow and all that.  Can’t put my finger on a single reason why but today felt like “failure”….I felt like a failure.  Couldn’t tell you why to save my life…

(Swear to God I only figured it out during the editorial process… it becomes apparent if you keep reading…)

I know failure when I see it:

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Big Man’s Bad Date Adventure #1, Part II

This is the continuation from part I, the following won’t make sense unless you read that one first.  Then again it still doesn’t make sense to me and I was there.

Where did we leave off?  Oh yes, I was in the midst of ignoring obvious red flags because a certain smaller anatomical area had hijacked the brain and was off on a selfish mission of  conquest.

Should I have taken her somewhat paranoid, delusional statements as a hint?  Does the fact that I used “somewhat” in the last sentence tell you anything at all?  Yes, I’m defensive.  So what if I’m trying to minimize my hormones impact on this debacle?

And the restaurant wasn’t so bad once I got past the nutty bits.  Have you ever heard of anyone spending FIFTEEN DOLLARS on a sushi date?  Well you have now… SERIOUSLY!  $11 on a rainbow roll, $2.50 for her Diet Coke… she had 2 bites of the roll then said she was full!  Gave ’em a $20 and didn’t ask for change back.  Girl thought I was the man.

I was reeling her in, had her crazy ass just where I wanted her!

…or so I thought  😦

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