Broken Cogs

Something ordinary made new.

2010-03-13T09:50:00.000-08:00

The assignment after reading Virginia Woolf's The Death of the Moth was to take something ordinary and make it new and different, even extraordinary.

I used my name...

The Beast Within: or DeQunician writing

2010-02-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

I sit. Cold and alone. My thoughts the only company in this struggle, the only character in the drama about to be performed in this one act play—destined to be repeated for eternity. I feel the demon rising up within the very bowels of my existence, urgent and forceful it comes unbidden. There is no escaping the cruel monster without the pain and agony that invariably accompanies its passage. My nails dig in at my sides—gripping, gripping, gripping for dear life as I wait for the end to come—the sweet release that will only come when the dark night of this struggle is lifted from my weary shoulders. Sweat begins pouring from my creased brow. Deep crevices, like canyons in the desert, line my face, sweat coursing through them like mighty rivers ripping their jagged path in the earth. My every muscle tenses and contorts from the strain.

Reaching out for any distraction I find the comforting words of some ancient sage or other. Perhaps a fellow warrior who once did battle in this same spot. I picture them devoid of armour, stripped bare before God and their own serpentine dragon that must be slain. Circling, circling, circling, they fought for their meager and sullen lives as I do now. Together, we are locked in this timeless struggle. Their words a comfort, a testament, an acknowledgment across the years that I am not now truly alone, nor have I ever been. They have ever been with me and ever shall be. A testament that none of us is truly alone while we still live and draw human breath. As long as warm blood continues to course through our veins, we will ever have with us our forefathers and ancestors, those that have passed before and those that will pass this way again.

A low rumble exploded from somewhere deep, injecting me with such a fear as has only been felt on the battlefields. I envision a cloud of dark black crows, a spectre of death circling waiting to rip the carrion from my bones should I fall in this venture. I imagine my bones, bleached white, pristine as a throne made suitable for a king, forever enshrined in this posture, hunched and decrepit as an old woman beneath the weight of a lifetime. I groan with the ghastly pain. It stabs deep within my soft, vulnerable belly and rips a scream from between my lips.

There is no stopping now. The beast draws near. The end comes swiftly.

A scream.

I slump, the perspiration falling from my now wet and sodden hair.

It is done.

“Where have you been,” comes the call from my beloved friend. My friend who left me to this struggle alone.

“I had to poop.”

iPad? really thats the best you could do?

2010-01-27T16:07:00.000-08:00

Once again Steve Jobs had descended from the mountain top to bring the gifts of God to the masses. The last time someone brought a tablet down from the mountain like this, the world was forever changed. This time, the tablet and the golden calf are the same thing.

Apple unveiled the iPad today. It is the latest in a growing family tree of crap. Thats right I skipped the bad apple pun and went straight to crap. iShuffle's latest iteration, macbook air, now the iPad. First off the name sounds like a feminine product. It is at best, a large iPod, not iPhone because it can't make calls. Its features include Safari, Mail, Photos, Video, youTube (thank God I won't be without the constant stream of "cats doing things" videos), iPod, iTunes, App Store (notice there is always a built-in way to spend more), ibooks (the not quite kindle), Maps, Notes, Calendar, Contacts, Homescreen, and Spotlight search. If you notice, there isn't much to set it apart from the iPod/iPhone family.

Now lets look at their pricing structure.

The basic macbook starts at $999 and you get an almost cosmos launching bigger bang for your buck. At the very least 250GB and the ability to run most programs out there. Programs people, not apps.

Then there is the non-tablet tablet. How many years has Apple been the epitome of the graphic and design industry's goto computer? I have dreamt for years of an Apple tablet. Something I could draw on, run the Adobe suit and have the luxury of a touch screen. Something like Axiotron's modbook thats been around for years. The iPad, is not this product. It feels like a rather resounding FU to the aging and, I'm beginning to wonder, outdated computer customers of Apple.

Apple, I love you. I love my mac and have switched more than one person to it, freeing them from the chains of their old PC lives. But this is just not going to cut it.

The end of the experiment...

2010-01-24T17:28:00.000-08:00

This is my moratorium for Wordpress. It was fun but I feel it is time for me to move on. If I were to tell you that its me and not you...well I'd be lying. Sure I had more control. If I had taken the time I could have designed my own layout and made it look amazing but I am busy doing that for clients. Sure I had control and could approve, deny, or spam comments but as only 1 out of 20 some wasn't spam, it just seemed like a waste to me.

So here I am blogspot. I hope you will accept me back. Wordpress was young and exciting and did things you wouldn't do but I missed you. Maybe no one will ever join us, maybe they won't read the words we share...but we will. And so I'm back.

If anyone would like to read the few posts that I shared with Wordpress they are below.

Unchanging

2010-01-24T17:25:00.000-08:00

Published: January 23rd, 2010

So Mel and I went to a friends house tonight to play games. I have to say that Wii Music is among the most fun games EVER. Its funny that in today’s world of incredible graphics and complex games, something as simple as banging your hands like drums or moving a controller like a violin bow and pressing 2 buttons could be as fun as it is. It seems that no matter how far we go, our early inventions still find usefulness. We have a Wii and were supremely excited to get pac man on it. We have a lovely flat screen TV with high definition, I still like to watch my old 80’s cartoons, Transformers and Duck Tales etc. How many people today buy incredible top of the line computers with gigs and gigs of storage and awesome graphics cards, then use it as a jukebox/typewriter? Well I guess its also an encyclopedia, and a phone/postal service. Okay so the computer is pretty great but a lot of other things, well they haven’t really changed.

Personal Statement part 2

2010-01-24T17:24:00.000-08:00

Published: December 1st, 2009

I’m finding it hard to write the second half. The personal statement bit was easy. I know who I am, it took me about 27 years to find out. I know I want to teach. Now the part about what specifically I want to accomplish and what I’ll bring to the English department as a graduate student, thats a little more difficult to explain. Perhaps the best way to go about this is work backwards…

I want to teach new media, the convergence of Art and Text in technology. As online applications become more pervasive, what will happen to the written word? Many people fear the extinction of news papers and books. I don’t think that’s the direction we are heading. If anything, the explosion of online news in the form of blogs, webizines, or online news papers will make the same information more accessible and allow better writing and better coverage of the world’s events. As digital books become more popular because of the Kindle and Sony E-reader, it could become easier for new writers to publish works. That being said, people are less likely to slog through pages of text on their ever shrinking digital devices. This makes the artistic layout and design of the text so much more important. In a time when anyone with internet access can host a blog, publish a book, or create a website, the need to write well and understand the trends of how to present that text becomes more important.

New media is also a possible answer to some of our problems faced by decreasing school funding. In the days of “No Child Left Behind,” schools have to provide supplies like paper and pencils, teachers cannot assign summer reading, even to advanced placement classes, because the school would have to provide books for every student. We need to create inexpensive alternatives to traditional educational resources. The internet may be the answer. Imagine a website that uses Flash animation to teach children to read, or teaching art without the cost of paints or brushes. By creating online educational resources that are well-written and well-designed we can revolutionize our educational system. As a docent at the Huntington Museum of Art, I have been involved in tours that are given via video conferencing to schools in rural areas. The limitless possibilities this technology can bring to the classroom has inspired me. I want to devote my own education and experience to creating new methods of bringing knowledge to others.

As I am writing this I can hear the question the English department is going to ask, “What does this have to do with us?”

Honestly, the answer may simply be, “nothing…”

Maybe what I want is a master’s degree in Education.

Personal Statement...as it stands now.

2010-01-24T17:23:00.001-08:00

Posted: November 26th, 2009

To whom it may concern:

As I leaned over the edge of the rocks, my gloved hand gripping the rope, I looked into her eyes. I could see the terror as water gathered into tears. Her feet were slipping. “Look at me,” I said willing the calm tone into my voice. “Just keep your eyes on me, you’re not going anywhere. Just keep your hand on the rope and keep it tight behind you. Now walk up the rock. One foot in front of the other.” My eyes never left hers. Carefully, tentatively her foot began to creep up the face of the rock. “Just keep moving your feet up the rock until you are sitting in the harness. I’m right here and I promise you won’t fall.” Finally, she was once again sitting in the harness and began to let a few inches of rope slide through her hands. It was a long process of sliding her hand back to let out more rope and walking down the face of the rocks but at last she reached the ground below.

It was there on the rocks, leaning out into nothingness and looking into those wide terrified eyes, that I knew who I was. I’m a teacher. Growing up in my parents’ Christian home I had always heard of our “calling.” That profession that God almighty has ordained for each of us. I don’t claim to know what’s on God’s mind or if God, in fact, has a mind. All I know is that I fell in love with teaching.

After my graduation from Marshall in 2004 I sat back, breathed a sigh of relief and quoted Elliot, “Well that’s over and I’m glad its done.” I joined the military, a big mistake, and volunteered to train new recruits preparing them for boot-camp, not a mistake. I found that I was much better at training these young soldiers at maneuvers, first-aid, the pomp ,circumstance and BS of the army than I was at following others into it. When teaching, I came alive. I was always looking for new things to incorporate, new ways to keep their attention. When they got bored with the same drills outside, I taught them military history and showed how those same tactics have been used for centuries. I would use clips from movies to illustrate my points and they got it. I love that feeling when you’re teaching something and you see the light go on, they GET it.

A year ago I began volunteering as a docent at the Huntington museum. I found myself leading more high-school and college aged groups than anything else and the excitement of teaching once again overwhelmed me. This time the drug was even more powerful as I was teaching something I actually cared about. It was here that I realized why I love Art and Literature.

I was looking at a series of colorfield paintings, by colorfield paintings I mean roughly cut pieces of wood and styrofoam painted solid colors. At first look I admit I wasn’t impressed. Often, even if the subject or style doesn’t interest me, I can at least appreciate the craftsmanship of the work. These just seemed bad. They were the quintessential, my five year old could do that, paintings. But as the curator told us about the artist and her background of scrounging through alleys and abandoned warehouses for art materials the work made more sense to me. I still didn’t like it, which is fine, but now I could appreciate it.

I began thinking of my own background, my time spent studying Literature and parsing meaning from the words of authors long since dead. My girlfriend and I have discussed the validation of searching for the elusive “authors intent” as opposed to enjoying the story for what it is. I agree that author’s intent is like a white whale, hard to find and in the end fairly useless. But the practice of examining a text, holding it up to the history that surrounds it or playing Freud and psychoanalyzing the characters to extract some idea that can be applied to our own lives is a valuable tool. I have found that there are two kinds of art, whether visual, literary or anything else. There is art that you can experience and pull something from it immediately, then there are works that only take on meaning when you hold them up to something else. Teaching others to think in these broader ideas and how to apply art and literature to their own lives has become my overwhelming passion.

Keeping up Appearances

2009-11-15T04:09:00.000-08:00

I have begun reading a friend's blog...

She is an annoyingly good writer. Not annoyingly good in the sense that she is terribly successful, has book deals and a budding career that makes my insides fill with envious bile. No, she's just got an innocence to her writing that comes out true. It simply reminds me why I wanted to write, and makes me forget why I don't actually do it. So here is my renewed effort to inspire at least myself. My first thought is to give you samples of past writings when I cannot think or have time to write anything new.

The first of my bootcamp letters:

Written March 3-5, 2005

Dear Mom and Dad,

My third day is winding to a close. Apparently you are supposed to…Okay I’m back. Had a class on making bunks. Now when I say a class, what I’m referring to is about 200 people standing in a circle watching a sergeant and two other recruits make a bunk. After which I volunteered to help carry it back into the barracks.

Back to what I was saying…whatever it was is gone now! I don’t know what “apparently one is supposed to do.” I feel kind of like Hawkeye in the Episode where he writes his dad. Oh! I remember! You’re supposed to be able to call home in the first 48 hours to let your family know you arrived safely. 48 hours have come and gone for me but none of the other people here. I still haven’t called but in a way I’m glad. I have made my decision to get out of here and I wanted to make it on my own. I always talk to everyone, get input, analyze…Well now its LIGHTS OUT and I have guard duty at 0300 so bye for now.

Well I’m back now, on guard duty. I’m sitting in the “CQ” for the Barracks. This is basically the office for all the sergeants, drill sergeants and the two main guys over us. So last night one of the guys came up and asked why I thought the Army wasn’t for me when I know how to do everything. I had been helping guys with things throughout the day; just simple things like making sure they didn’t wear hats indoors and did…(I’m back)…wear them outside. We just got TB tested and are now sitting in the chapel. I’m definitely praying more. Mostly, “God, I’m sorry, get me out of this place,” and trying to quote scripture. I don’t remember much.

Anyway, so this guy was asking why I don’t think the Army is for me. Trying to explain to him helped me put it into words. I joined for a handful of reasons; money, training, both brothers had, and an intense respect for those who have served before me. All but one of these was selfish, “what can my country do for me?” The last one was just wrong. I don’t think it was respectful if this isn’t the life for me. The 1^st Sergeant gave a small speech last night about how we shouln’t quit out of respect for those who are serving and dying so that other Americans can lead free lives. If people such as Bryan and Jon can fith the military it may be respectful but denying who I am doesn’t seem to be. What I’m getting at is this, Isn’t is more respectful to live the life they gave me the freedom to live than to try to be them? I now know I can respect them without trying to be them.

To be honest, I don’t know what Bryan was talking about me being the one to take what they give in stride and sound out loudly “thank you sir, may I have another!” I would have thought Jon just because he is so stubborn. He’d do it just to spite them. They definitely play the mind game well here. It has definitely been another lesson in humility. I may have been able to make it had I still wanted to be in the Army, at this point I can’t really say. Once I realized this wasn’t for me and I couldn’t bare eight years of Army life, I lost the motivation, the drive tat one absolutely must have to successfully negotiate Basic Training. Once I lost that initiative, I cracked. I cannot stand the, not yelling, but whatever it is. I may be able to handle yelling. The drill instructors here don’t yeall too much. Its colder, harsher. They feel cruel almost disgusted with us at times. One thing that gets to me most is the contradictions they keep spouting and the disregard for manners. Its not a lack of manners from the Drill Sergeants but rather being yelled at for having them. Any time I’ve taken initiative or tried to help with something, if a drill sergeant is near, I get in trouble. Things like, “don’t put that under your seat!” then when I pick it up they say, “put that under your seat!” I tried to hold a door open and was again chastised. Its as if anything I would do in my life or at work with ICS, Blockbuster, Gap, anywhere gets me in trouble here. Try to help, get yelled at. Don’t help and its, “soldier, why aren’t you helping your buddy?” See something that needs done, if I try to do it its always, “soldier, who told you to do that?” If I stop, then they say NOW do it. What was I thinking joining the Army?

Back again, still sitting here in the chapel. Now I’m down in a basement awaiting issuance of uniforms. We were briefed a moment ago on a lot of stuff pertaining to the guard and reserve and our training. I found out I don not have leave after Basic. I would go straight to AIT in Virginia. I cannot wait to get out of here whatever the cost. I keep coming back to one resounding thought. How did I get here? It now seems so terribly obviouse that I am not capable of military life, that I wonder what possessed me to ever thing I was. Just the thought of being stuck in the military and even in this freezing basement my skin is hot and flustered and my stomach is doing enough jumping jacks to make up for any lack on our part. In short, the army makes me sick! LITERALLY.

Well here I am again, still in this basement and now I’ve got all the gear they issue. About four and a half hours we’ve been walking in circles around this place…(Back again)…I keep writing because we keep sitting around and I’ve already memorized everything we are supposed to be studying. So now I am sitting in the security office. Sgt. Santiago calls me out at the medical checks and says grab a “buddy” and starts marching me around. He then pulls out another Taylor, sits my buddy down, tells us we are now buddies and marches us over here to the security office. My mind is racing thinking, because I wanted to quit they were trying to bring charges, like fraudulent enlistment or trying to get out some other way. Then I find out I’m here as his buddy because he can’t go anywhere alone and he has to interview for his Top Secret security clearence. WHEW! Note: buddy refers to battle buddy as in the buddy system. No recruit may go anywhere without a battle buddy. This includes the bathroom. In fact, we aren’t even allowed to talk to our sergeants without a buddy at our side.

Can I just tell you this is the first time I’ve been in an area where I can cross my legs without being yelled at. I’m probably not supposed to but no sergeants are around.

So as far as me getting out of here, I told the 1^st Sergeant of our company and he said to come back and see him this afternoon. Last night is when he gave his speech about not quitting; I’m forced to wonder if it ws soley for my benefit. I keep writing, partly because I have time but moreso because I can feel like I’m talking to you and it’s the only thing keeping me from curling up in a corner somewhere. Why on Earth did we ever thing I could do this! I’m a fish out of water, cliché? Yeah. Gasping for air.

A guy just came through about to throw away doughnuts and offered one to me. I didn’t take it but it reminded me of Bryan looking forward to his doughnut at Boot Camp and Jon not having any bad stuff at his which got me thinking about what I eat here. NO, I DON’T WANT TO BE AN ARMHY COOK! We are eating the same as everyone else here. Today there was a Lieutenant Colonel in front of me in line. Guess what he ate. That frozen pizza stuff we used to get at our baseball games! Culinary arts my eye!

I know it wont always be like I’m going through now but I’ve been seeing how regular personnel act and how they carry themselves. Their demeanor. This is so not Timmy Taylor. I know you’re probably disappointed in me. Dad, I know you tried to tell me and I have nothing to say for myself but, I’m sorry. I know the possible consequences of getting out and the record that will follow me. I guess that’s what I get for coming here in spite of so many people saying the Army wasn’t for me. Each time people thought I couldn’t or wouldn’t do it, it made me want to all the more. Again I learn humility. I can’t, I don’t blame you for being disappointed. I’m disappointed in myself, not as much for quitting as for getting all the way to this point before I realized it. I used to think poorly about Andrew for joining then quitting. On the one hand I didn’t join a unit and just quit going to drill, but on the other I didn’t last one day at Boot Camp. I don’t know which is worse.

You know, when I get back I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to church with you. So many people to face and especially the people like Kenny Bright, Richard Dunbar and of course Chase. What will they think of me? Before I left, Brittney told me she was proud of me. I’m going to be very embarrassed. You know how much I hate admitting that I cannot do something.

On top of all this I still know I owe 25k in student loans, several k to you both for all your loans and help and I want to get into a good grad-school. How bad will this record of “failure to cope with Army life” effect my paying for all this and admittance to grad-school? Probably a lot. “I just keep trust---- trusting in Him. He’s a faithful friend.” I real kick in the pants is that Thomas Young said he felt a leading I was supposed to go to grad-school and not the military. Did you or Betty ever have stronger doubts than you let on? Did you expect this or was it a shock to hear I couldn’t handle this. Here I thought I was mentally strong and I came apart like an atom in Hiroshima. So I’m mentally weak as well as physically. I’m a blundle of emotions whos ripping at the seams. I’d have mailed this today but I left stamps I bought at the PX. Scatterbrain.

Did I tell you I wouldn’t have any leave between Boot Camp and Ft. Lee. I couldn’t even spend graduation off Base. Only if your MOS school is longer than 22 weeks do you get leave for the space between. Otherwise, your stuck on base. Jon should get it unless each portion is considered a different school, then he might not. I wish I could be there to go with you but at the same time, I don’t know what I’ll say to he or Bryan. I really don’t know what I’ll say to you if I ever get to call you before my letters get there.

Back again. Its now 1805 hours. Or 6:05 pm to normal people. That means I’ve now been here at Ft. Jackson for about 97 hours. I was supposed to be allowed to use the phones within the first 48. I just talked to the 1^st Sergeant again…time lapse…Okay, now it is 1940 hours or 7:40. I remain. I am better. I don’t really know what happened. One minute I was just “dying here” (Jack Nicholson voice) and the next it just lifted. I feel lighter than air now. I…I just can’t explain it. I give God the glory and praise. He just flipped a switch it seems and I went calm. I suppose…what happened was he helped me to see beyond my own plans.

So now its Saturday morning. To continue what I was saying. I am going to stay through it. I realized I don’t have to go to language training if I don’t want to. In fact if I go officer I can cut my enlistment down to six years. Now we are in the chapel for a briefing on Tricare. So if I make it, scratch that, when I make it through boot camp, I will get $10,000 of my student loan repayment and $5,000 of my bonus. I can decide what to do at that point. Even if I don’t go to language school, I will still get about four or five hundred a month and a Montgomery G.I. bill for grad-school. So praise God! I’m adjusting. I guess its kind of like when I was in France. I hated it at first. But the culture shcock subsided and I came out loving it. The doc told me to focus on things like that. To find something like, “I survived Europe alone, I can do this.” And hold onto that. So take heart dear family, tell Jon I’m doing alright.

Hooah,

Timmy

Battle for Terra

2009-11-15T03:29:00.000-08:00

I recently watched Battle for Terra. Going in I only knew that it was an animated sci-fi movie. Generally thats enough for me. I primarily watch movies for entertainment and if it leads to deep ponderances...thats okay to.

It struck the same chords as Wall-e, Happy Feet, and Final Fantasy. The animation was absolutely gorgeous and would be worth watching even on mute just for the stunning visuals. The premise came across as very preachy. "We are wasting our resources so better shape up." I love sci-fi because it allows us to examine ideas like this from a neutral perspective and hopefully inspire thought and debate, rather than dogma and inaction. Sometimes the sermon is too overt. The following are my thoughts:

1. We have a gorgeous planet with a limited amount of resources and, save an epidemic or natural disaster of biblical proportions an unlimited amount of people. So we need more space.

2. We as humans have a long and less than proud tradition of fighting for our space.

3. We as humans have a long and more proud tradition of seeking out new space. We cross great distances and suffer immense hardships to explore possibilities. Often we do this armed with a few facts and a lot of hope.

4. Possibilities are always limitless by definition.

5. Perhaps, if we stopped putting our vast resources into building and maintaining armies, researching the latest ways to kill and cripple larger groups with less effort, and put those resources into exploration and expansion beyond our lovely little planet, we'd find a little more leg room for ourselves.

5a. For all of those worried about the above line, the research going into exploration will ultimately yield bigger and better weapons, it always has.

6. More leg room might just mean less fighting over it.

7. Not everyone is fighting over having enough space, it is particular space that matters to some. Let those worried about their "homeland" or sacred land fight over it. If Americans listen to themselves, we'll realize what we pride ourselves on is that our nation is built on ideals and the people that uphold them. We can do that anywhere.

In conclusion, as NASA finds water on the moon, gears up to search for life on Europa (a moon of Jupiter), and keeps an ever watchful eye to the heavens, lets look up with them and perhaps give them enough resources to find something.

Failings

2009-09-03T14:17:00.000-07:00

In the midst of week 3, I've done nothing. No writing, no drawing. The only work I've gotten done was shooting a wedding last weekend. Money is so tight right now that I have gone back to work at Borders.

With shooting this wedding my eyes are operating in full director's mode. The whole drive home, I was thinking out stories, scouting locations in the central West Virginia mountains, setting up shots. Even watching "I Love You Man" the other night, I kept noticing how well shot it is. Its just a very pretty movie.

I really want to get a story written and shoot it. I have been thinking more about a documentary on Biotech in West Virginia. It wouldn't be terribly hard to get done. The key segments would be interviews with Dr. Valluri, some other professors and students at Marshall University and footage from the labs there. An interview with Senator Byrd would be great if you could get it. I just have to get off my ass and do it.

I have however made strides in Mellie's scarf. At least its something creative.

Taking stock

2009-08-17T09:11:00.000-07:00

Here we are again.

B-day.

I'm 27.

I've been thinking about the movie Gross Pointe Blank lately. When I first saw that movie it was either '96 or '97. 12 or 13 years ago. I thought of the characters as adults. I thought about where I would be in my life when my 10 year high school reunion came around. For the last several years, I have continued to think of my life's progress in terms of my ten year high school reunion. This spring will be 10 years.

Am I happy?

Yes.

Am I satisfied?

...are you?

Allow me to take stock. I'm healthy. Not so much wealthy but I'm living. I'm wise enough to know I'm not wise. I have a bachelor's degree. I've traveled alone in Europe. I've been on stage in two musicals and jumped out of a plane (if you can count moving along like sheep in a C-130 full of soldiers until suddenly there is no plane beneath you). I've served my country. I'm no longer serving with a gun and uniform (it feels good). I have started two businesses. I'm raising two dogs. I've learned to knit. I've worked as a production assistant in California and a cook in Pennsylvania.

I met a girl. Other people I graduated with have been married, been divorced, had kids, had jobs, etc. I've managed to fall in love with my best friend and two years later still love spending as much time as I can with her.

There are other things but I'll leave it for now.

All in all I've had quite a good time. There are, however things in which I have been decidedly lax. This blog for one. I began it one year ago and it has an anemic 3 posts. I've read more than I used to (due in no small part to dating a book junkie) but not nearly enough. I'm embarrassed to have a degree in English and not have read To Kill a Mockingbird (among countless other books). I definitely have not written or drawn enough. So here is my goal this year...

I will focus on myself this year. I am going to better myself in every way I can and this blog will catalogue the journey. I will post about my projects and progress. Here are the goals I am starting with:

Improve the Mind:

Write/Draw 5 min each weekday.

Post one blog each week.

Read one book each month.

Improve the Body:

Stretch each day.

Work out at least 3 times each week.

Improve the Soul:

I don't know yet how but work to rekindle my relationship with God.

So for now, adue.

The Bullhorn Isn't Mightier than the Brain

2008-09-05T06:47:00.000-07:00

In America, we love to talk about politics. We see it as the ultimate culmination of our freedoms. We get free speech, freedom to challenge the government, freedom to disagree all rolled into one adrenaline filled sport. We are brought up hearing the time honored phrases, "give me liberty or give me death, the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants."

We take so personally this sacred duty that we often personalize the issues and ideals that we are debating. "I disagree with the war," becomes "I disagree with your value system and who you are at your very core." "I think we need a stronger educational system to keep our children from falling behind in the global economy," becomes "I don't think you know how to raise your own children and I can do it better."

Talking about politics and issues and ideas IS our sacred duty. Those who ask what the point of talking about it is have too long watched the red-faced rancorous arguing of the political junkie. The very foundation of this country is not religious freedom, it isn't our brilliant system of checks and balances, it is not our capitalist economy. It is our free market of ideas. The ability to talk and reason through issues is what led to all of our other freedoms and what protects them.

Talk. Discuss. Don't get angry, get verbose.

Moderate is a 4 letter word

2008-09-04T06:36:00.000-07:00

I used to fall in with the idea that moderates in politics were a triumph of mediocrity. That going to the middle was a fail-safe way to win elections and nothing more. Out flank your opponent on the left or right according to which party you are in to achieve the nomination and then drive straight for the center to win the general election.

I no longer believe this.

As hard as it is to hear, both sides have valid points and, (gasp) both sides get it right on different issues. I am a moderate. It isn't because I am afraid to make a decision or have no moral compass to keep me far on one end. It is because on some issues I end up on the left and on some I end up on the right.

With education I believe that democrats have a better idea. We need a strong centralized system of public education in this country. Giving control to local politicians and school boards does not help us. They teach what they believe to be important in their community and the children are often left with very small horizons and little competitiveness in the world at large. We compete with people from almost every country for our jobs and are quickly becoming the least qualified. We have one of the higher illiteracy rates, we go to school for fewer days. How can we ask children to compete like this.

With tax breaks for small businesses, I end up on the right. As the economy continues to react from a harsh downturn and businesses refuse to hire military personnel because they are constantly deployed, many Americans are turning to opening their own businesses. The business owner is the backbone of the American economy and needs help in fighting giants like Walmart to stay alive. That being said, the wave of tax breaks for billion dollar conglomerates and allowing the monopolization of media outlets needs to be turned.

The conventions of the past couple weeks have in no way told us what the stances are on the issues. They are meerly a rabble rousing pep rally of like minded followers, a parade to create support going into a general election that is less about the issues and more about popularity and name recognition.

Please, do not rest in listening to debates and prewritten poll tested speeches to make your decision. Research, study, question and then decide for yourself who you think is the most qualified to lead.

Birthday blues? nah

2008-08-18T06:24:00.000-07:00

My birthday was yesterday. I'm not depressed about turning 26. It isn't the incessant march of time that has me a little down. It's all the damn pressure to have a good day. Your birthday is supposed to be spent celebrating, spent with friends, enjoying a carefree day as your friends and family all rejoice in the wonderfulness that is you...right?

Well, what happens if you happen to be tired or cranky or exhausted from dealing with two over exuberant puppies? Then you find yourself in the spiral of I know I should be having a great time, but I'm just having an okay time. Nothing is going wrong, there is nothing to be sad or upset about. But dammit it's my birthday. I should have a huge I just got !@#$ grin plastered across my face.

Well kids, here's the hard and simple truth. Life is good. I'm enjoying this thing that my parents heaped onto my unsuspecting conscious. Thrills, romance and adventure they always told me. Thrills...every time I get into a car in Huntington. It is a life endangering roller-coaster. Romance? I've get to live with my best friend and play all the time. I love her and I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual so I have that going for me. Adventure? Well I've had lots of them. I'm looking forward to lots more. In the meantime, launching my own company I think counts as a pretty big adventure.

So in the end, I'm glad yesterday is over and done. There was too much well wishing for a happy birthday from too many people. I don't care if those 24 little hours were that great, because the next ones and all the hours to come, have a lot of promise.