Things I've Noticed
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: READING: Republic by Plato
Topic: Life's Little Events
There won't be much structure to this piece. I just wanted to jot down a couple of observations. Sometime in the future they might come in handy.

I've noticed that toothbrushes in the store are getting to look more and more like athletic shoes. I think Nike and Reach are sharing designs. It shouldn't be long before we see toothbrushes with air-cell suspension.

I've noticed that, the more I let myself love other people, the more often I feel miserable, get hurt, cry. It wasn't like this when I hated people. Why does something so wonderful make you feel so bad? No, there are no problems in my marriage. What hurts is worrying about the people I love; taking on their pain, suffering with them when they're ill, missing them when they have to go away. Right now, among the people I love, there is a lot of illness, personal problems, hard times. One was sent off to Baghdad and I'll be afraid for him every single day until he comes back safely. It really hurts to love.

I've discovered that the less free time I have, the more things I find that I'd like to do in my free time. I've also discovered that when I have free time, I often can't decide what t do with it.

I've learned that interesting reading material always lets itself be discovered in bunches. When I find something that I want to read, I end up with a stack of books and magazines that I want to read as soon as I can get to them. Other times, I could dig through a library, and find nothing but garbage.

That reminds me, I've discovered that the two libraries nearest to my home are not worth my time and effort. I've gone to each one on several occasions with lists of authors, titles and subjects, and was not able to find anything worth checking out. I've come to believe that the only reason they continue to be is to provide Internet access to those who don't have their own computers.

The Drum Circle
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Still Reading "Life of PI"
Topic: Life's Little Events
I arrived home from work yesterday just in time to kiss my wife goodbye. As we are an avereage American, two-income couple who also enjoy free time activities, this has been happening more and more frequently. I have been missing Diane lately, so I thought about skipping the Chorus' Board of Director's meeting and going out to dinner with her instead. I do, however, consider myself to be a man of some small degree of integrity. I couldn't ditch the meeting without at least the appearance of an excuse.
I had received email at work from two other board members stating that they were sick, and could not attend the meeting. Thinking back on the other meetings I've attended, I could only remember five or six members being present at any given meeting. So, I called President (and very good friend) Ross.
"Oh Mighty Rabbah!" I said. (I'll explain the name in another piece, ... maybe)
"Mr. Steve!" he answered in his ever-welcoming tone of voice, "How goes it?"
"Hey!" I said. (I think you can always tell when I'm scheeming. I begin with an interjection.) "Looks like we won't have enough for a quarum tonight."
"Sure we will! There should be about ten other guys there!" Ross announced, as if he were announcing that there would also be nude dancing girls.)
"Oh, OK," I answered dejectedly. "I'm on my way."
"Do you have to be at work early tomorrow?" asked Rabbah.
"Unfortunately, yeah. I need to hit the sack early tonight."
"Oh, well. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go with me to my drumming circle, but --"
With a sudden burst of interest and energy, I said, "I'm there man!"
The bored -- I mean board meeting seemed interminable. Budget this, chairman that blah, blah, blah. Let's just get it over with. Make an entry in the minutes and let's go! I motion that we make a motion to the drumming circle! All in favor?
The meeting did end, if you want a better description of it, read the minutes! Anyway, Ross locked up the church building (where we have our meetings) and I stepped out into the parking lot to wait for him. There was a little chill, but the Chesapeake Bay had let out a long, warm sigh that left the whole evening muffled with fog. I stood admiring the halos around the streetlamps. I heard Ross coming up behind me.
"There are a few things I should probably explain to you." I thought he was going to explain the ettiquette of drumming: Stay with the communal beat and rhythm, don't try to break out into a solo act, etc. But instead, he was concerned with my being lost or feeling out of place in the proceedings. He explained that there would be a round of drumming, then announcements, a few minutes of "heartbeat" drumming for healing, where the names of sick or injured family and friends are called out,and then more ad lib drumming. "I just wanted to make sure that it's cool with you, since you're Catholic." He said. As far as I know, communal drumming and prayer/meditation for the sick won't put me in danger of Hellfire. As for the announcements, we, I'd just have to wait and see!
We walked into a moderate sized crowd of people, most of whom Rabbah knew and knew him. He hugged here, embraced there, then turned to introduce me . I stuck out my hand, and it was quickly brushed aside. Good, firm, full armed embracing. That's how these folks greeted newcomers! I looked around me and had the overwhelming feeling that I was back in Germany, partying in the heart of bohemia (small 'b'). The sounds, the darkness, the smiles, the smoke, somehow combined with the tarp shelter and ceramic heaters to produce an overwhelming flashback. I was 17 again. Ross led me to the drumming area. Drummers in chairs, seated on the ground, and standing surrounded an area about 15 feet in diameter. In the center was a clay pot emitting the glow of a small fire.
"Some peole play congas, bongos, that's a djembe over there." Ross explained while pointing across the circle. "This is a dumbek." He said, handing me a drum that looked an awful lot like the djembe, but I suppose I'll learn the difference with experience. "There are two basic strikes, the 'doom' and the 'tek'" He demonstrated each for me, then listened as I tried to achieve the same tones. From that point on, I was immersed in rhythmic, pulsing music, sometimes setting a new pattern, mostly following. A beautiful orchestral community of soaring percussion. Spontanious, unguided, undirected, mezmerizing.
Women were dancing in the center of the circle. Some American Indian style, some Middle Eastern style, some just plain, all out boogieing to the beat. Ross' drumming paused as he nudged me with his elbow and grinned. "By the way, did I mention there were dancers? "

---- Gotta go!
More later!

And the Next
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Reading: Life of Pi
Topic: Fiction
Dan's cell phone had been programmed to play the melody of Stacy's first hit, "Secret Lovin'", and he heard it playing now. A glance at the caller ID told him it was Donna, his secretary, or "administrative assistant", as she insisted upon being called. Dan rolled his eyes as he pressed "Talk".
"Yeah, Donna" he sighed.
"Dan, we just had a call from Mr. Wenn."
"The jeans guy?" Dan leaned forward in anticipation. He felt his pulse quicken.
"Yeah, that's him." Donna answered nonchalantly. "He said he had a family emergency, and he has to fly back to Taipei tomorrow. He says if you still want to talk about a label, he'd like to see you this morning."
Dan's knees buckled. He staggered to catch his balance. "You have his number?" He asked, trying hard to disguise his excitement.
"I've got him on hold. What do I tell him?"
"Tell him I'm on my ..." was all Donna heard as Dan punched the "End" key a little prematurely. Dan jogged toward his car, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the Regent. He resolved to call the hotel later and make sure Stacy was safe.

Next Bit
Mood:  lazy
Now Playing: Reading: Life of Pi
Topic: Fiction
Dan had been Stacy's manager all through her rocket ship rise to the top of the bubblegum music charts. He was in the right place at the right time. Any idiot could have seen that she would catch on with the pre-teen crowd in no time at all. He just happened to be the first one to get her signature (and her parent' signatures) on a contract. The rest of the past three years had been all too predictable: Record Stacy's cutsie semi-suggestive voice and lyrics over a dub of an electronic studio band, a few, selective TV appearances, and a concert tour with flashing lights and an over-amped band, then watch the bank accounts grow. Stacy's popularity was just about at the point where Dan could start plastering her name and likeness on anything from clothing to chocolate bars, and begin reaping the profits. One more tour should get him there. Dan preferred making his money from these "endorsements". All they required was signing a few license agreements. It was automatic. No more negotiating for transportation, venue rental, contract riders (Stacy insisted upon a dozen fresh Hawaiian orchids in her suite after every show), and especially, no more kowtowing to a spoiled brat. That is, until Stacy becomes over-exposed, the residuals drop, and the next teeny-bopper idol comes along.

Writing Exercise #1
Mood:  lazy
Now Playing: Reading: A Murder on the Apian Way
This is the result of a writing exercise. I was given a list of three words.I was to write for five minutes, and had to use one of the words as the first word in the first sentence, and use the other two within the first paragraph. No editing allowed! Here's what I came up with:

Fire, Clock, Certainty

Fire shot out of the third floor window at the Regent Hotel. Dan wondered whether Stacy had made it out of her room on time. She had had a bit too much to drink last night, and when he dropped her off at her room, he knew with certainty that she wouldn't be waking up soon, once she fell asleep. He stood just a block away from the hotel, where he could see the heat waves from the flames distorting the clock in front of the Olde Towne bank. He had left Stacy just four hours ago.

He wished he could be a hero, rushing up he stairs of the hotel, bursting through the door to rescue the damsel in distress, but the police had already set up barriers, and the firemen were already raising a ladder to the window. He wasn't even sure it was her window. Somewhere inside himself, he hoped it was, if for no other reason than to add a little excitement to his dull existence.

Winter in Virginia
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: READING: A Murder on the Apian Way by Steven Saylor
Topic: Weather
The East Coast weather has been teasing me, taunting me these past few weeks. Thursday before last, Hampton got an inch of snow which had the courtesy to stick around for a day or two. It snowed again last Wednesday. By Wednesday night it had melted just a little, and re-froze, turning the roads into shiny black ribbons of ice. The commander at Langley was gracious enough to let us stay home until 1:00, although why he didn't just call off the entire workday is beyond me. A 3-hour workday isn't worth getting showered and dressed for.

Last night, as I stepped out of the house, I saw the pathetic remnants of the last snowfall clinging to the bushier portions of my front lawn. There was so little of it left that I had to stare at it for a few seconds to be sure that I wasn't just seeing the moonlight highlighting the grass. I looked up at the sky. Bright moonlight, brilliant stars. "No cloud cover," I thought, "It's going to be a cold one tonight." I smiled as I hoped for a decent snowfall. I had forgotten that, with no clouds, there could be no snow.

I heard on the radio yesterday that another "blast of Arctic air" was about to bring "the worst winter storm of the season" to the East Coast. New York was to receive up to 18 inches of snow. I had hoped we would get at least one or two out of the deal. But, today the weatherman speaks of the "bone-chilling cold" last night and all of the snow that was "dumped" just north of us. He tells us how "lucky" we are to have "dodged that bullet". I want to slap him. It is cold outside - right around 20 degrees or so. But cold weather without snow is like chocolate cake with no frosting (that must be why it's called 'frosting'!)

So, according to those who have some unjustifiable hatred for snow, we're lucky to have the mud along the roadways frozen into the shapes of the feet and tires that last trudged through it before the temperature dipped below freezing. We are fortunate to be able to look at our dead lawns which have already been fooled twice into sprouting new growth, and killed off by frost. We should be happy that our city, where it usually snows a couple of times each winter, isn't overburdening the driver who operates the sand truck - the single piece of municipal snow "removal" equipment in the area.

I'd be happy if New York City would ship a few inches of their gift of snowfall to us.

Why Can't it be Simple?
Mood:  irritated
OK, I'm going to give Tripod a try. So far, I'm not very impressed. I thought I had a journal all set to go, then I found that I couldn't add entries to it. (If I could, I couldn't figure out how, and I'm a software engineer!) So, I had to start all over and overwrite the original page. The difficulty seems to be that I don't want ma journal full of colorful borders and background pictures, or a line of dancing "Hello Kitties" across the top of the page. I just want plain, black text on a white background (as you see, I can't even get that!) I want a button that says "Add an Entry" at the TOP of the navigation menu. Not several layers down under "Add flashy gimmics to your template!"

This is how I see it: I've built this journal as a place to practice and develop my writing skill. If I can't create all of the colors and pictures in your mind with my words, then I have failed, or at least need more practice. If you need to see the dancing kitties and jagged patches of pink and purple to get your reading enjoyment, then what you need is a comic book (or a comic web site).

Copied fro LiveJournal - Originally poster 19 Jan 2005
And I thought BLOGSPOT was bad!
I complained about the navigability of Blogspot, but LiveJournal has it beat! I had to guess several times at what to click on to find my way here to add a new entry. This is another case of a poorly designed, poorly implemented, rush-to-market piece of crap website, intended to quickly take advantage of the latest Internet fad before it fades away. I would lose my job if I submitted a piece of junk like this and try to claim that it was ready to go live. I don't want to hear about how much better it would be if I had a "Paid account". If the sample is this bad, I won't be wasting my money on your garbage. Prove to me that you can create an intuitive user interface with logical navigation and an inviting look and feel, and I MIGHT consider trying the paid upgrade, but, as far as I'm concerned, upgraded crap is still crap!
When I have more time, I think I'll search out another journal host. This is just ridiculous ! By the way, have you ever seen a spell checker where you have to copy the correctly spelled word from a list of possibilities and PASTE it into your text?? I have a mental picture of a 16 year-old with his nose in a copy of "Web Site Creation for Complete Imbeciles" while implementing this site.

Current Mood: frustrated

Copied from LiveJournal - Original Posted 16 Jan 2005
First Entry
This is my second try at having a blog. The first one became a bit of a chore, seeing as how I tried to add all the flashy, attention-grabbing gimmicks: updated photos, colorized text, cool links, etc. This time around, I just want somewhere where I can practice writing by writing. Hopefully, I'll write something here every day, or close to it. I have no intention to provide the "News of the Week" for my life, or my latest rant and rave (although, those will inevitably show up eventually). My main purpose will be, as I said, to practice writing.
I have the feeling, and have in fact been told by some people, that I am a good writer -- that I have a way with words. I'd like to build on this; become a better writer by writing. Someday, I'd even like to write a book, or be otherwise published. Until then, I'll keep practicing.

Current Mood: optimistic