The Earth moved and nothing will be the same

It all happened almost over night.  The Earth is moving at a rate which is so endless.  This makes a person ponder how time can go by so quick but be so endless.  It weird to think with the Earth spinning around at a thousand miles per hour what if it slowed down or sped up, would time be changed then or would we just have longer seasons?  I am not an astronomer but I do know that it happened over night.  The fact that I went from a boy to a man.  Nothing will be the same again.  As I stand out in the yard on the gravely surface I look around the Earths crust for something to do.  My mind has been altered.  Had I been abducted and they made it so I have no imagination or drive anymore?  I knew it!  That’s what happen, I was abducted by aliens and they took all my child hood energy and my imagination.  I am looking for any excuse to be a kid again.  Instead of diving into the sand box and working on a all out, sand box size construction project I begin to pick up a rake.  I begin to drag the rake around the back lawn gathering a small pile of leaves.  I break a quick sweat as I tackle the yard size task of making the lawn look good for who? Me or my neighbors?  You almost fall into a routine and do things to just do them not because you want to but you have to with no reason for it.  Phew, the last section of yard is down.  It all ends with a glorious pillow like pile of leaves.  It is so inviting.   Nothing may ever be the same again since I woke up that unfaithful day but wooooohoooo!  I ran at full bore knowing tomorrow I may be sore and dove into the pile.  POOF!  Leaves flew up around me.  A cloud of leaves flew into the air creating a big sky of color above.  Being an adult doesn’t mean I still cannot have fun, it just means I might be sore the next day and that night I might have to soak a body part or two.

You've lost it where is it

             The year was nineteen eighty five which was a period in my life that I try to choose to block out.  It was a ordinary day in our little tin can we called our home.  We lived in a trailer, of course, in Brewer on the Day road.  It was a great place to live during this time.  There was so many other children in the park and we were all the same age to boot.  It was a ugly day out and it was about to get uglier.  Me and my two brothers were having another day of indoor play.  It was raining and the metal roof was singing away as the rain pelted it.   I still don’t know if it was us running around playing or if it was the wind gently shaking the trailer.  My middle brother was only a year older then me so it was fun because we shared the same interest.  The game we were playing was hide and seek.  I know, you are thinking how many places can you hide in a trailer? Well, that’s where you had to get creative and I did.  I found a cool place under my parents dresser.  I had to really wiggle my way in there though knocking some things around.  I was eventually found. It was but a little later on my father came home.  I don’t know how it all came about but my mother was missing her wedding ring.  The ring was on the dresser I just happen to hide under.  So I got blamed for losing it.  My father was so mad and yelled for me to come to the back bedroom.  I hesitantly ran back there knowing no good was going to come of this. “You’ve lost it! Where is it?” my Dad sternly spoke.  I told him I didn’t touch it or see it but it did not matter it was my fault.  I turned to walk back up the hallway and I felt a stern hand grab my arm from behind.  It doesn’t take a genius to know what came next.   Yeah, the other hand right across my ass.  Not once or twice but three times a charm. I got away and ran up the hall to my bedroom crying.  I had a good hiding spot to hide from him and it was in between the two beds pushed together.  I finally came out when my mom came in the room, “Michael?  I’m sorry are you alright?” I came out and told her once again I didn’t lose the ring and she replied saying she knew. I guess while I was hiding they were looking for the ring.  They found the ring that had some how got lost inside the jewelry box.  The ring slipped down in behind the shelf of a drawer on the jewelry box.  So what was a great day turned out to be a day I have never forgotten.  Not only did my dad not believe me but he blistered my ass and for what….. Nothing.

Writing for me is......

Writing is a way for some people to express themselves.  For me, I don’t quite think it is to express myself even though sometimes I get a slight kick out of what I write.  I think its more because I have to appease the college.  I do feel that your class is actually really cool.  I love to write about the different aspects as apposed to reading something and breaking it down to describe what some 1400’s poem theme.  That to me isn’t writing.  Anyway to me writing is more like doing dishes.  I hate to do them but in the end I’m like, “Nice, I have a clean fork and plate to eat with.”  Or I’m like, “Nice I really hated to do this writing but in the end I feel like I accomplished something and got the clutter out of my head.” I think writing for me is not necessarily like doing the dishes but its kind of the relief feeling I get.  The dishes is a good explanation though because we all hate them and most  people, being honest, hate to write.  I kind of make a game of the dishes just like when I write too.  The more fun or more open you are to doing them the easier it is and the quicker it goes by.  There is no sense to complain about the task at hand because it doesn’t get you anywhere.  All the does get you is doing it with anger. Imagine being angry washing dishes?  I think I would have no dishes left.  My cupboard would be empty of all my fine china and would be littered with solo cups and chinet paper plate.  At least the silver ware would hold up.  A angry writing to me would look like a mess.  It would be a gloomy work with no enlightenment.  Who would want to read something that they couldn’t enjoy.  The better job you do on the dishes is much better then a sloppy half washed/written job.  You have company over (you have someone reading your writing) and they find food on their plate and fork, (the story sucks) would they want to eat at your house? (would they want to read your story?)  NO.  This all describes my writing because there is some days that I just don’t want to write or do dishes.  Of course they are going to come out crappy.  Thank god for me and everyone I have a dish washer and don’t have to do dishes.  To bad for me there isn’t a dish washer for my writing.

The 3 paragraphs in different ways.

I was sitting upon the couch with my feet crossed while the slight chill in the air made it so I had to use a blanket.  My son and I was watching television and the show we were watching was Batman.  My son sat in between the cushions all slumped up slightly fall in-between the two sections of the couch..  His legs of course have not stopped moving.  They were flailing up and down and up and down.  Bonnie, the cat, laid in her spot on the bottom shelf of the television stand.  The warmth from the Satellite box and the TV must be the reason that being her favorite spot.  Any noise she hears will make her eyes slit open just enough to make sure no one is coming to get.


I was hanging out on the couch.  I didn‘t need the heat on due to the excitement going on.  Me and my son watched Batman and the superhero was beating up the bad guy.  My son sat there cheering for Batman to beat up Joker.  He was jumping up and down on the couch saying, pow! Bam! Biff!  This made the cat hide under the television stand.  Bonnie, the cat must of gotten scared while my son was cheering for his favorite caped crusader.  She coward in behind the satellite receiver and watched us two vigilantly as we were hooked on the hero saving the day.


I was curled up in the corner of the couch with my son as we were watching one of our favorite shows, Batman.  My son was eating a candy necklace and yet he still had to move constantly.  He was a little wiggle worm and the show jacked him up a little more.  I’m sure the candy necklace had nothing to do with it.  We can’t just watch Batman without him having some kind of super hero toy in his hand.  This time it was Aquaman.  The cat was moseying across the living room floor probably heading to her food dish when all of a sudden my son jumped off the couch and screamed “POW BIFF BAM.”  The cat darted like no other.  Her claws practically unstitched the area rug.  She ran to the quickest hiding spot possible, in the television stand.  She thinks we can’t get her there but it makes it easy. It’s kind of an oxymoron move on the cats part.  

Pick one topic to get paid to talk about

Being very poor I would love the chance to make a little more money.  To top it off, make money to talk and let alone talk about something I really enjoy.  I love to just blab and my wife will tell you it is so annoying.  I am like a little barking dog that wont stop yelping over a vehicle driving past the yard.  I go one an on about whatever the subject is and almost go over board on the topic.  I really have a lot of things that I enjoy so to pick just one topic to gab about is going to be very difficult.  Life is very joyful for me for the most part.  Everyone has their ups and downs but we all like to have joy in our lives.
That was almost to easy to pick once I started writing about what I was going to write about.  I would definitely have to pick joy.  Yes, joy isn’t a person, place, but could be a thing.  It can be a thing in the manner that it can be happiness.  Joy can be spread to others like a disease we all would want.  Imagine if there was a disease of joy.  Your side effects of the disease could be happiness, love, fun, and many other exciting terms of endearment. We wouldn’t have to find a cure unless it became such and intense joy that people couldn’t wipe the smile from their face.  The only kind of doctors we would need in this world is a plastic surgeon to remove the smile or we would all be walking around like the joker on the show batman.  Could you imagine the joy of walking around and seeing everyone happy?  There would be no crime because joy includes philanthropy to an extent.  You would already be happy and wouldn’t need to steal someone’s money to be happy or their jewels.  Drugs would be non existent due to the fact you would have natural serotonin and a natural high.  I think the American dream for everyone is to have joy in your life.  Joy isn’t just a simple fact of happiness it is the fact of fulfillment. Fulfillment in a life is every good emotion that can give you a natural high and make you feel on top of the world.  World peace could be achieved by joy through out all the different countries and cultures.  Joy for some would be a full stomach and for others would be a wallet full of money but its all the same when it comes down to it.
I feel like if someone told you to choose one emotion to be most people wouldn’t think of joy.  They don’t see joy as a vast spread of emotions.  Yeah you could choose to be excited but excited doesn’t include all the emotions like joy does.  Joy includes excitement.  You cannot have excitement without enjoying something or having a joy or happiness toward something or a certain situation.  I think everyone could have it if they let it in.  Joy is blocked on a daily basis by stress and other survival activities.

Magic truth potion

Once upon a time, there was this middle aged man.  His name was Mike.  Mike, a great looking guy, was getting looks from all the women as he was walking toward the college.  One lady was really staring in a hypnotic way. It was making him feel awkward and he nervously kept glancing back making eye contact every time.  The lady motioned her head as to tell him, “Come over here.”  Mike pointed at himself as he looked at the lady to make sure she was motioning to him.  She confirmed it she wanted him to come there.  Mike followed the lady into a little dark nook at the school and she explained to him about this magic potion.  This potion, if given to someone would make them tell the truth whether they wanted to or not.  He was excited and knew he could finally know what he wanted from a certain someone.
This was a chance of a life time.  Who was he going to use this potion on.  He had many ideas on his mind to who was a great subject to use this once in a life time chance.  Some of the names that came to mind first was his wife.  He then thought and knew he should be able to trust her so he would feel bad or feel insecure to use this on her.  He then thought, what about all those great responses he has received from his online literature teacher, John Goldfine.  He has really tried though this year and felt pretty confident that John’s remarks were honest.  John would have nothing to lose by lying.  Mike picked the perfect criminal, Nicco, his son.  He can finally get some closer on all those mysterious things that happen around the house that everyone says they didn’t do.  He sneaks the potion into Nicco’s picky one, which he calls soda, and he sips it down till the last drop.
Mike thought to himself, “Now to see if this works.” He figured he would throw a test question out to see if it is working yet.  “Hey Nics, did you get into the paint, that I told you not to, and put it all over your Handy Manny work bench?”
Nicco replied, “Yes I did.  I was building a little birdhouse with my toy building blocks and I had to paint it.”
Oh my god!! He has never admitted that he done that.  This was amazing.  So Mike began to ask his son other questions.  “Why was the cat wet last morning (last morning is what Nicco calls yesterday).  Did you put him in the bath tub or throw the cat into the toilette again?  If so why did you do it?” Mike asked his son as he kind of chuckled about the fact he out the cat in the toilette.
“Dad, the cat was trying to climb into the toilette so I helped him out.  I figured he had to go potty.” Nicco replied as serious as could be but with a smirk like he knew what he did was wrong.
He then went on to ask his son, “Was it really the cats that made a mess of the cat food or was it you who put it all over the floor?”
Nicco looked over and stated, “Yeah, I was trying to hid the food from the cats.  The cats are pigs.”
So far Mike wasn’t really shocked at any of the answers his son has given him.  It was fun to hear him actually tell the truth and the reasons behind his madness. “Did you take the toy from your sister and hit her with it when she tried to get it back,” Mike asked really not sure what the answer of this question is going to be.
Nicco answered with anger, “No I was playing with it and she tried to take it from me.  She said she needed it but I told her no.” He was probably angry when he answered this due to the fact his dad didn’t believe him before and punished him.
Mike thought what a liar his daughter was.  He would expect it from his four year old son but not a ten year old daughter. He thought to himself when he sees her next she is going to be in trouble for lying and allowing him to get mad at his son for something she did. Who knows how many other times she pulled that off.  A lot of the questions Mike already knew the answers to but I think it was more less just for a laugh except the question about the two siblings fighting.
“Where is my old cell phone?” He asked because it has been missing for awhile. He doesn’t know if his son took it but at least it will rule it out.
His son gets up from the couch and points to his power wheels outside.  “I needed a phone for my car like you and mommy have.” being all cute he said. “I had to call my friends and tell them to come over and play with me.”
Mike couldn’t get mad at him because he was so cute when he talked about the phone.  It wasn’t a big deal because it was an old phone but it would have been nice to get the numbers and pictures off it.  Mike and his son walked out to his power wheels four wheeler and in the cup holder there the phone was.  It was just like his mom and dad kept their phones.  The phone was definitely ruined by now due to all the rain.  Mike asked a few more questions which he received the answers he was expecting anyway and eventually the potion wore off.  It was definitely a great choice to pick his son.  Not only did he get a good laugh but he also learned where some things were hidden.  Mostly he it was for the laugh to hear his story or reason behind why he did it.  A child’s mind really is hilarious.  The way they think about things is really intriguing.  Mike went back to school the next day hoping to find the lady with the potion once again but all he got was glances from other girls.  Will he ever see this mystical lady again?  He had many other people he would like to use the potion on.

Theme of the week

The yard lay a wreck after the short hot summer.  Me, my wife and son stand just outside the patio door in our bare feet.  The sun has been touching down on the stone all down which warms our feet as we stand upon them.

“Thanks for spraying some weed control between the patio stones this year.”  my wife says sarcastically.

“Yeah Dad,” my son adds to my wife’s comment.

“I had enough stuff to do you could have done it at anytime!” I said knowing I just put my foot in my mouth.

We continue to walk away from the house into the back yard.  The pool that was once a inviting blue is now a disgusting brown.  I glance through out the lawn hoping she doesn’t bring up the fact the lawn is shin deep.  This lawn should be cut and bailed into hay.

“When do you plan to pick up the yard it’s trashed and winter is coming? You have all kinds of toys, shovels, and other junk everywhere.  It makes this house look like a dump.  You are so lazy and never pick it up ever.  You think the snow can just hide everything.  When are you going to finish your sons playground?” she says as she goes on and on.

I was thinking to myself I wish I would have never traveled out the back door but the chicken wasn’t going to cook itself and the grill is outside.  I uncover this mass of man ness I call a grill.  The bottom of the grill has two door where it holds the propane tank.  I crank the knob on the tank to unleash the propane to turn this beauty on.  As I ready myself to open the grill my wife beats me to it.  She looks inside with disgust on her face.  I knew something was about to escape her lips and I prepared to brace myself for what is another comment about my lack of cleanliness.

“Great you never cleaned the grill after the last time we cooked.  Why didn’t you that is so gross.  Now we are going to put this chicken on some steak or whatever we cooked last from who knows how long ago?   That isn’t even kosher!”  She goes on and I try and block her out

I scrabbled to get the grill brush and begin scraping the grill off.  A small charcoal cloud began to rise up out of the grill and surrounded us.  I knew if I scrapped hard and fast the cloud would get bigger and she would back away.

“See what I’m talking about look at all of that.” She coughs a little but I know it was an exaggeration.  “Nicco, get off the pool ladder!” My wife says all in one breath.

I think to myself thank god for my boy, Nicco, he took the heat off me.  I obviously was concerned he was on the pool ladder but as long as he was okay I was feeling relieved.  I went one with my business of getting this grill warmed up to put the chicken on.  We were all so hungry and we were already kind of late making it.  It was already after six and we still haven’t even got it on the grill yet.  The grill warmed up and I slapped on the chicken and the sizzle of it hitting the hot metal made my hunger intensify.  I lathered up the top side of the chicken with the teriyaki marinade left on the plate.  The sweet, smoky smell of the teriyaki further increased the already over the edge hunger feeling.

“Dad, is the steak on yet,” my son said as he confuses chicken and steak as always.

“You mean chicken and yes it is.  Why don’t you play in your sand box and I will tell you when it’s ready.” I said trying to take his mind off the fact the dinner was so close but yet so far away.

“Can we eat outside I love it when we all eat outside at the table together.” Nicco says as he uses his bulldozer to dig in his pretend gravel pit in his sandbox.  “Broom broom” He pulls off in his dump truck to further extend his road he has been working on all summer.
“Our table isn’t outside its in the addition buddy.  Remember Bampa brought it in a couple weeks ago because of the big storm we had.” I stated reminding him about the Hurricane we received at the beginning of the month.

His grampy, that he calls Bampa, had to sit him the night before while I was at school and my wife was working.  I came home to many things in the yard cleaned up.  I wish I would have been gone for longer maybe it all would of.

“Yeah thank god you had school or this all would have blown off  to who knows where.” as my wife threw her two cents in.

I was almost making the chicken take much longer then it should because I was trying to rush it.  You know how you want something to be done so you keep opening the oven letting all the heat out.  I would watch the temperature gauge on the front of the hot grill go from 450 down to 325 every time I opened it.

“Sweetie, can you get me a plate to put the chicken on.” I said hoping she would get out of my hair for a minute. “How about we eat in the addition at the patio table Nicco.”  I went on to tell my son hoping he would go for the idea.

She came back out and I filled my wife in on the idea of eating in the addition at the patio table.  She went for the idea as we all strutted in from outside.  Nicco was the first in but had to turn around to shut the door.

“I am going to shut the door because I am a big boy.”  Nicco stated as he turned around.

“We know,” we both said together.

I thought in my head “jinx double jinx” but should would of told me to grow up so the idea stayed right there, in my head.  Me and Nicco stayed out in the addition as my wife went to grab all the plates, cups, and silverware.

“Thank you dear.  I will start cutting up Nicco’s chicken if you will make a salad, unless you want me to……” I kind of paused to judge the response of her face.  Expressions can say a million words.

“Okay.” She replied with no hesitation.

She returned shortly with a luscious colorful salad full of many veggies.  Thank god she was quick I thought to myself.  The salad was full of tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers just the way I like it.

“Maybe she isn’t so bad at all,” I muttered in my head……

We all sat down and started filling our face.  We usually try to talk during dinner but I knew from the get go this dinner was no ordinary dinner you see due to the fact we were all starving!

Listening to myself as a writer

I always think that I can do this and I will really step it up.  Then it seems to be that I have a devil on one should and a angel on the others.  The devil is the anti writer and the angel is the boost I need to really put a spark to the fire I need for my writing to take off.  I’ve always got one of them telling me what to say or what to write and I don’t know who to go with.  The devil always seems to get his way and him being there with me is no different.

“Don’t you dare speak of that way toward being that fly on the wall.  The picture does not look like that.  It is a gloomy mud hole with blackened rocks and a thunderous storm moving in reflecting off the sewer you call a waterfall.” The Devil really tries to convince me to create a horrid work out of a beautiful artistic masterpiece.

“You know better than that!” as the picture reflects a bright glow off the Devils face, “ This work of paints smeared on this canvass tell a greater story than your life you Devil.  Do not listen to him Mike look at how he dress’s all in fire red with a fox hole black face.  You know better then to trust someone who looks like a rock of coal half died out.” The Angel speaks with softness in his voice trying to convince me to speak of enlightenment.

I don’t know who to trust they both make good point but and have great descriptions but what are the emotions I want the reader to think of?  How do I want to set a scene of something that is suppose to be of greatness? Am I writing a scary novel or a work that is going to bring joy and pick up the spirits of the readers?  I know what I need to do but with them arguing outside my head both with great arguments my decision is hindered.

“Who cares about the reader the writer always knows best.  Is the reader writing this or are you?  You can write it any way you want and danger is always more exciting. “ says the Devil with great promising points. “You want to be known don’t you not just writing love stories. All great movies have fire and excitement.” The devil continues.

“So untrue.  Ladies love a great love stories and it sounds much better to talk about a sparking waterfall with the suns rays sparkling off the water droplets rather then a mercury filled spout oozing over the rocks.” My angel seems to have a quick comeback to the Devils deadened talk of spoils.

Who do I listen to I just want the best for me and mostly my readers.  What am I really trying to describe.  I stand back and really look at the picture and really diagnose what I want the readers to see.  What am I looking at and how do I describe this to my readers in a way that almost paints this picture in their mind.  I know now what I need to do!  I got the feather duster from the cupboard and begin to raise it up toward my shoulder that the devil is digging his pitch fork into.

The devil nervously says, “ahh what are you doing get that away from me I am allergic to dust or feathers.  I mean just get that away you don’t know what you want I know what you Waianae…….”  The Devils voice is cut short from the gentle sweeping action of the feather duster erasing him from my shoulder.  

I know what I want and what the readers need and it isn’t a plain description of a painting that tells a thousand words per stroke.   I am a colorful person full of details and descriptions but the Devil used his knowledge of my small vocabulary against me.  I try to over come this and listen to the Angel that still sits soulfully on my shoulder as he smiles and give me a wink.  I feel comfortable now knowing my best intentions are here for the taking.

looking around a room

I am secluded as I walk through the door and take a seat to wait for the doctors assistant to call my name.  I nestle down for it will be and always is a great wait.  The room is very large with not even a handful of people.  You would expect to hear someone coughing being at the doctors but not one person seems to be making that awful sick sound of flem as it thrust up their throat.   Thank god because even though I don’t have microscopic vision I can still see the little germs all over.  Their gangly little mouths chomping away like a little army flanking me on all sides.  My only defense is the hand sanitizer.
As I sit an wait and just stare around in this waiting room I take note of the magazines on the table next to me.  I always try to sit near them so I don’t have to get up.  Web MD seems to be a big hit around here, seeming as it’s the only magazine on the end table.  The end table has legs like tooth picks and to my surprise it’s holding up a stack of magazines and a shiny dark green ivy plant to boot.  Seriously this table doesn’t even wobble and it’s legs are seriously like wooden matches to hold all this up. This dark brown end table has a matching coffee table in the center of the room and its freighted with pamplets. Everything from cancer to arthritis to mental diseases and to top these all off a diabetes one smack dab in the middle.  That one really sticks out because my wife’s family has wide spread diabetes.
The pictures on the walls in doctors offices are so typical.  They seem to always be of some kind of stunning out door shot.  Just then I look up from the coffee table to take notice of a flowing water fall as it breaks the mountains edge.  At the base of this waterfall is a crystal clear little pond that has a bright sunlight with its yellowy orange reflection off the water. Across from this high spirited picture was another of the same setting.  A little wooden shack in the midst of the fall.  This picture had many bright colors do to the seasons leaf change.  It was like lead peeping without even having to go anywhere.  I think the doctors use these kinds of photos to uplift the spirits of the sick people waiting to see the doctor.
I think this is the best but can be the grossest part of the waiting room and that’s the little nook of children’s toys.  This little nook is freighted with toys almost competes with my spoiled sons room.  Right off the bat you notice the Hulk action figure that a previous kid left posing on the floor.  The floor of the nook is not the plain blue carpet like the rest of the room but is different color foam puzzle pieces.  It is incredibly organized with multiple bins filled up with boy and girl toys.  I never see kids in here playing with the toys but they are definetly weathered from being played with.  I couldn’t imagine being here when a child was there due to the fact they have a little drum and a key board to boot.
I finally after looking at the clock continuously the assistant comes out to call my name.  She almost blends in with the pale walls with her plain light blue scrub top with a gray bottom.  Of course she had a great big smile like she was happy to see another patient.  Maybe it was those uplifting photos getting to her.  I look again at the clock and am so happy after sitting there for a great amount of time listening to kiss 94.5.  Yeah, this concluded sitting in this room but I know what is to come, another room with pictures and magazines.  Same plain walls and doing the same thing, waiting so I can get my problem taken care of.

A fly on the wall and she said.....

I’m waiting patiently as possible as I arrive to pick up my son at school.  He goes to the Dedham School.  It’s a wonderful school for children.  Anyway I was waiting in the hall way because right at twelve o’clock he gets picked up.  He is in the pre-k class that they offer at the school.  Just before noon time they are outside, especially on this beautiful day.  All the parents arrive to get their children but we must all cram into the hall next to the office.
As I stand there awaiting my sons arrival from outside I try to keep myself busy.  I kind of don’t fit in with the snobby looking people so as everyone else chatters around me I pretend to read the same thing I always do on the wall, a list of school store toys.   The conversations vary so much behind me as different people arrive.  “Oh hey Tammy how are the girls,” one girl says to another.  “They are so wonderful, thanks for asking,” the other lady replies.  I kind of already know where the conversation is heading, no where because they usually are the dull, uncomfortable adult conversations.  You know the ones that people feel like they can’t joke around and have to be all prissy.  I am relaxed over here by the wall but I can feel the tenseness between their dry talk.
Thank god for one of the girls who seemed to be out of, “Nice day out there,” lines another lady showed up.  She strolls in with her daughter who really breaks the ice for the adults.  “Aw isn’t she cunning.” Tammy spouts out, “How old?”  The mother of the little girl replies, “She is 3 and what a character she is,” she says wiping the dirt ring off the girls face.  She is another one of those stay at home moms that I swear they get up and deck themselves out in high class attire just for something to do. The little girl is dressed up looking like a 3 year old teenager.  A mini skirt and a shirt that says Prom Queen.  I don’t know why a mom would do that unless she is trying to live through her daughter.
The conversation resumes with talks about them getting together for an outing.  “That would be just fantastic we can get the girls together and catch up on some PTO issues,” a lady states, “and the girls miss each other so much.”  She replies back, “How’s your husband is he still working at the hospital?” “Oh, yeah he hasn’t been home much it’s just been me and the little angel.” She says back.”  By this time I am so over the uncomfortable small talk between the ladies.  What makes it worse is they look down upon everyone but themselves.  I chuckle to myself knowing that the two girls are just trying so hard with each other instead of just relaxing and just being themselves.
Finally the teacher comes around the corner leading a line of kids with another teaching holding up the back of the line.  “Stay in line please, Nicco you are our leader today you need to lead the class to the room.” the teacher states to my son as he runs up to see me.  “Daaaad!!” my son Nicco yells out, “Noah this is my dad.” At this time I look over in time to see the scowls on the ladies faces but I could care less because my boy is the greatest and I’m proud to hear him say that.

Photo Album

I never really collected a lot of pictures through out my life.  When I was a child my parents to many pictures but they have them all not me.  You would think with kids I would have more pictures but I kind of take them in flurries.  I will go through a camera kick and then forget all about it.  We will plan this nice family outing and get there for a picture perfect time and where is the picture taker? Right on the table at home.  The pictures I have say a million words.  Words and pictures isn’t like being there but it can create a sense and a feeling of that wonderful or not so wonderful time.
Some of the pictures in this book make me think, where the hell has the time go? I look at ones of my kids and think to my self I know they have grown but holly beeeep.   It’s crazy looking back at how cute they were and innocent.  Now they are no where near cute and innocent.  They are cute and menaces.  I guess I can’t blame them or get mad at them though because I remember I would want to do this or that when I was that age.  The best part about pictures is the big aww moment.  Pictures can talk and they tell a story.  The story of the times people have.  My picture book has periods of time where I forgot the camera though.  My daughter would be 3 then next thing I no there is no pictures until she was 4.  It can be frightening to think of the greatness that was.  You can flip and flip through the book and it brings back flashes of even things that were said of that day.
It’s true what they say, pictures do tell a million words and they are more then just a picture.  They are a memory and a stopped moment in the world.  It is like hitting the pause button at that moment in your life.  They have just as many emotions as a person can have just by looking at them.  The best part about the pictures in my photo album is that the pictures are of me and my family.  These are the memories that mean more than a million words and are the moments that I don’t even need these pictures.  These are moments of the heart.

My collection

My daughters room is where the little door is to the crawl behind.  In this crawl behind is many boxes and totes from our past and stuff we don’t use anymore.  Also in there is a box for every holiday, you know all the decorations that seem to grow over the years.  How come stuff you need slowly disappears and that stuff slowly becomes more and more?  Any how, within this dark blue tote is a box of mine. This isn’t any ordinary box it’s this fancy little box with a hole in the top.  This wonderful box is out of this world.  This box is a old tissue box with my favorite football team on it, the Miami Dolphins.  I glance into this box because right now it’s on my mind.  I never check it out anymore but the stuff it with hold is fantastic.
This old tissue box holds a coin collection I have had my whole life.  I love coins.  Not as much anymore but as kid I had a thing for them.  Every time I saw coins at a store or flea market I had to bring home one.  My family knew my passion for this and would give me coins they were holding onto to greater my collection.  I got money dating into the 1800’s and until current. On all my travels I would pick up another coin to mark my travels.  Every bill or coin would be another period or a place that even until this day I can remember who what were and when I had gotten it.  I wish the coins from other countries I had actually traveled to too get them though, that would mean I have seen the world.
You don’t really realize that such a small innocent piece of history could bring back so many memories of your past.  Personally I love my past incredibly but I hate to think of it because of all the great moments I will never have again and then I have to tell myself I will make new times like that.  Nothing is like being a child and having a love for something it seems to always be a greater and more mental love.  My coin collection marks a life and time of me, family and friends.  It has traveled and been around and some how even the tissue box has held up. Amazing, I told you it was a marvelous box.

The first time, was it the best or not?

The year was two thousand nine and I’m standing there.  I’m very nervous as if I just saw a ghost.  I was trembling on the inside but I could not show it on the outside for they all may know.  Is this the right thing to do or am I going to make the biggest mistake of my life.  I was happy with the same old so to say so why change what isn’t broke?  Being the man I was I almost felt it was my duty to do this deed.  You see, I wasn’t just doing this for my own selfish reasons I was thinking of everyone else involved too.  My son was by my side so I knew everything was going to be alright. He didn’t know it but even without saying anything to me just him being there was like a relief that I needed.  I looked down on him and put my hand on the back of his head and our eyes connected.  He probably didn’t realize what was going on but his father was about to marry his mother.
That’s right on the ninth day of October, two thousand nine I married my sons mother.  Shouldn’t I of said I married the love of my life?  Probably because she really is.  At that time I knew I loved her so much but was I doing it because I thought it was the right thing to do for my family. Again I looked down and then glanced over to were my love was going to come out from.  It was at the moment I was reassured I made the right choice.  I knew I could always say no but for life is a long time.  She must have been going through the same thing if she hadn’t been then I would think she was crazy.
I stood there nervous as I would put my hands in my pockets and jingle the rings around.  My hands would come out of my pockets and I would put them to my sides.  I did this as a nervous reaction not knowing what I should be doing as I waited for what seemed to be an eternity.  I looked over the big bright white limo my soon to be wife was in like I was going to see her through the blacked out tint.  Was she going to come out or scream to the driver, “DRIVE LETS GO.”  That would be more embarrassing then hurtful for those first few moments.  Then the door opened up and she followed my daughter down the walk way.  She was in the most beautiful gown and her hair was like shining as the sun beamed down on her.  I felt at that time as if it was shining just above her.
She finally got down to the gazebo where me, my son, and the priest was and I was astonished at her beauty.  I knew then she was my first and my best wife ever or soon to be.  I hugged her and told her I loved her and how beautiful she was.  Again she looked amazing.  The priest said what he needed and we said a couple I do’s and on with the rings it was.  We now were married until death do us part.  I did the right thing and I had hoped she felt the same way.  In some way I felt so much closer to her almost like a higher level of love if such a thing.  We were as close as two people could be for better or worse.
This was the first and hopefully only time I’m going to marry anyone.  This is going to be the best forever no matter if we divorce or not.  Just like the first love of you’re life when you’re in middle school.  Everyone remembers her the girl that broke your heart and you would feel like you could die.  Well, my wife is going to be like that girl but forever.  We were finally a real family, not that we weren’t, but you know how it is the stereo typical married parents with a child family.

Through out my life

Everyone says their generation was better then the others.  I feel mine was pretty great to be a child.  You see it all started when I was a little boy growing up in Brewer, Maine.  The setting was the 80’s.  Everything was booming in these time.  I grew up next to a trailer park which had many kids and they all happen to be my age.  What more could I ask for.  The worst part about it is putting a bunch of trouble makers together in one spot and not really having the parents keep a great eye on them.
I grew up with the best cartoons.  To bad they were only on Saturday’s though.  One day a week for cartoons was not a good thing for kids but at least we actually went outside unlike kids of today.  Transformers, Voltron, G.I. Joe, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were and are some legendary cartoons.  We lived for them shows and every Saturday morning we would all huddle around the cheesy color TV that was as big as a dresser but yet still only 29 inches big.  To top all of this off, once a month we had the greatest show, at that time, on Earth, World Wrestling Federation.  It was a Hulk-a-mania world but I like The Ultimate Warrior.
I think everyone at this time was playing with the same toys.  They were all the toys from the shows we watched.  We would all get together and put each of our Voltron toys together and make the giant machine.  I had the green Voltron.  Green was my favorite color.  Lego’s were my favorite.  I would make big bases with them and take some of my little green army men, yeah the ones that were stationery, and have massive wars.  These battles were worse then the Civil War.  I remember this one toy, which I wish I had today,  that was the Hulk-a-mania work out set.  It came with weights, a work out tape, and some Hulk Hogan gear.  Why I had it I have no clue because I was the skinniest little kid ever.
Little did we know but the great invention hit the market, Nintendo.  What a great thing.  We loved it so much it changed everything for us.  Instead of once a week huddling around the television it was more like at least once a day.  We jammed out on every game we could get our hands on.  Even the adults loved it.  This was a mind boggling thing.  We were already use to the Atari and the Kilikovision but this machine was the most incredible thing and until this day still is. We couldn’t have asked for more until the Super Nintendo came out. When we would have sleep over’s we would see if we could pull all nighter’s in our little bed tents playing Nintendo.  Zelda was my favorite game.
I wish this era in my life never ended ever.  We had so much fun and after that we grew older and older.  In other words we got less and less fun.  Really the 80’s alone is all I try to remember.  It was the high light of my life and I would give anything to get them back.  The total different state of mind and the imagination.  I try to have one of those for my kids sake but it just isn’t the same.  I kind of find myself living through my son.  My wife always tell me to grow up.  I feel we all need to have that little bit of child in them in order to be an adult.  You learn everything from you’re child hood and it makes you as a person.

New me as a writer.

What kind of writer am I.  To be honest I don’t see myself as a writer at all.  Do I wish I was, of course. We all wish we could do something we cannot do. Or at least I hope that’s how people feel.  To where do I classify myself as a writer. Well I would have to break it down to what I need to work on I feel to make me a better writer.
I think my biggest problem with my writing is I am full fledge ADHD.  I think we all know what that means.  Basically I have a million wonderful thoughts buzzing in my head.  These thought’s though I cannot get on the paper before I forget or move on to another thought.  SO I think my story sounds ridiculously good in my head but it comes out as a puking of words on the paper.  Every time I proof read I find something else wrong and I’m like what the heck was I thinking there.  The idea at one point in time was probably ten ideas I had at once.  I probably then took that idea and put it in one.  I just can not focus on a topic.  The other main issue I have is my vocabulary is not as wide spread as most.  I don’t need and will never need all these fancy terms to say I’m feeling like crap.  Someone with a broad vocabulary could say that in five different fancy word ways.  Not me.
He really needs help with stating his work more clearly.  He really knows what he needs to do but knowing what to do and doing it are to different things.  Why doesn’t he proof read his work and that may help him with figuring out problems before the teacher does.  When he thinks of what he wants to say it comes out like a big mess on the paper.  That is why he needs to do a lot better when proof reading.  It will aid in helping the writing become more clear.
When you want to do a writing you need to have a plan.  A plan will help get all your ideas into a more convenient way to see them.  This will help you manage them more effectively and get them on the paper in a more clearer way.  You need to really work on keeping your facts right and really making a more wow factor in your writing’s.  If it will help you, you may want to use the bubbles.  The bubbles will help you get thesis, ideas, and conclusion broken down into an easier way to stay on track.
So you see I really do try and listen to what people tell me but I just cannot get it to click.  I don’t read ever and never really have and maybe that is a lot of my wording problem.  I was never really exposed to a lot of writings.  I am thirty years old and I have not once have had to write an essay or even a poem.  I wish I had time to sit down and just write away but it’s just not me.  I do feel being a good writer is important I am definitely not downing writing at all.  It’s really just not my cup of tea.

Myself as a writter

What kind of writer am I.  To be honest I don’t see myself as a writer at all.  Do I wish I was, of course. We all wish we could do something we cannot do. Or at least I hope that’s how people feel.  To where do I classify myself as a writer. Well I would have to break it down to what I need to work on I feel to make me a better writer.
I think my biggest problem with my writing is I am full fledge ADHD.  I think we all know what that means.  Basically I have a million wonderful thoughts buzzing in my head.  These thought’s though I cannot get on the paper before I forget or move on to another thought.  SO I think my story sounds ridiculously good in my head but it comes out as a puking of words on the paper.  Every time I proof read I find something else wrong and I’m like what the heck was I thinking there.  The idea at one point in time was probably ten ideas I had at once.  I probably then took that idea and put it in one.  I just can not focus on a topic.  The other main issue I have is my vocabulary is not as wide spread as most.  I don’t need and will never need all these fancy terms to say I’m feeling like crap.  Someone with a broad vocabulary could say that in five different fancy word ways.  Not me.
So you see I really do try and listen to what people tell me but I just cannot get it to click.  I don’t read ever and never really have and maybe that is a lot of my wording problem.  I was never really exposed to a lot of writings.  I am thirty years old and I have not once have had to write an essay or even a poem.  I wish I had time to sit down and just write away but it’s just not me.  I do feel being a good writer is important I am definitely not downing writing at all.  It’s really just not my cup of tea.

All alone in a room and what do I hear

I’m all alone which is never the case for me.  I’m listening and what do I want to hear?  Peace and quiet.   What do I get?  Just the opposite.  See in my house there is always madness and not a quiet room in the whole house.  I would love to get just one moment of peace.  Life is a mumbo jumbo and to just stop and slow down for once I think would be a dream come true for everyone.
We all want that moment, and I am no different, of peace and quiet. You see, that all alone in a quiet room cannot happen for me.  If my boy isn’t here, my wife is.  If by chance my wife and son are gone the cats are still here.  The cats have to be the most annoying cat’s ever.  That isn’t even the biggest reason for having no piece and quiet. We all know what it is but would never think of this because we are so use to hearing it all day and night.  A buzzing or humming of electronics.  The DVD player, satellite, fish tank, and even an alarm clock being on and not even going off.  These all put off a hum.  In my head with everything off all I can hear is that hum not peace.  An interruption to a cool breeze blowing through the trees is the light on the wall behind you.  A stream babbling next to the house is interrupted by a car honking the horn.
In conclusion to what do I hear is EVERYTHING.  There is no break from noise.  It may be quiet but there is always something especially in a room.  Everyday modern gear just driving its hum into our brain.  We cannot escape this like maybe two hundred years ago.  Electricity and gadgets are everywhere so we need to get use to not hearing soothing sounds of water or birds.