Date: December 17, 2007
Time: 21:53
I don't normally write about school in these entries, except to whinge about it, but this time is different. Tomorrow is the last day of this particular session, and the last day of the english class for which I signed on to do this blog.
I tried starting a blog on another site, but not much came of it. I know this was an assignment of sorts, but it was an assignment I actually enjoyed as it gave me a chance to show others my writing.
So, now that the class is over, that means this assignment is over, but does that mean I have to stop making entries? Not if I don't want to. It just means I don't have to make an entry every single night. Unless of course I feel like making an entry every single night. Decisions, decisions, what to do, what to do.
There are times when I have trouble making up my mind, it usually happens when I'm hungry, and there's nothing to eat at home, and I have no idea what I want, and I live in a neighborhood where almost any type of food is available. It's worse than the first time I ever stepped into a Baskin-Robbins®.
Before I did that, all I knew of ice cream was chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry, and all the "Mr. Softee" truck ever had was chocolate or vanilla soft-serve. So imagine being about 6 or 7 years old, all you know of ice cream, really know of it is two flavors, maybe three, and you walk into a place where they have Thirty-One Different Flavors. And I mean flavors you've never heard of before, flavors like "Cherries Jubilee", or "Rocky Road".
And then, you stand on your tip-toes, and you see them, the tubs of ice cream. Looking back, I'm surprised I didn't clutch the sides of my head and fall to the floor screaming in pain (Culture shock).
So where was I? Oh yeah, to blog, or not, to blog. Very good question.
I'll think I'll think about it for a while. :-þ
Monday, December 17, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Journal Entry #48: Past Prologue
Date: December 16, 2007
Time: 22:09
Okay, let me get this straight. We orbited the Earth, then we went to the Moon a few times, and we've sent out some satellites, landed a few roving robots on Mars, and keep trying to fix a space station that has maybe two, or at most, a half-dozen occupants at any one time.
Is that all we've done in regards to space exploration? As far as I'm concerned, that's pitiful.
Y'know, there was a time, when there was so much promise. There was a time when the year 2000, and all of the years after, there was time when that meant "The Future". And here we are, we are in what we considered to be our future, and we have done nothing. Okay, maybe not nothing. I mean, we have polluted the planet to the point where winters aren't what they used to be, and I'm not leaving myself out, I've certainly contributed to the pollution rate.
We're still fighting with each other over a viscous sludge that is running out. We're still fighting with each other over whose belief system is better. (Psst, none of them, they're all open to interpretation.) The point is, we're still fighting, and I've had enough of it.
But beyond the fighting, and all the political rhetoric that is repeatedly bandied about, I'm still disappointed that we haven't gotten any further than our own galaxy. Yes, I could have said "solar system", but we have had one or two satellites go beyond Pluto. And don't even get me started on that! I mean, it's bad enough that Pluto has aways been the runt of the Solar System. It's orbit is completely different from the other planets, it's smaller even than Mercury, and because it's so far from the sun, it's pretty much a ball of ice. But now they go and tell us that it doesn't qualify as a planet, that's just wrong.
I keep reading these articles about studies that have been performed for experiments that, to me, are just about the dumbest things I've ever heard of. I would like to know which moron was kept awake nights wondering "Gee, what if mice weren't afraid of cats?" Is that what science has come to now, breeding a mouse that can kick a cat's ass?
I'm sorry, all I know is, I want my jet pack. I want my flying car, and my apartment above the clouds. I want to work in an office that has 3-hour workdays and is run by pushing a few buttons. I want to come home and make dinner by pushing some more buttons, and I don't mean the ones on the phone to order take-out, or even by logging onto a website and placing an order.
I want the future that was written about in magazines, and I want it right now.
Time: 22:09
Okay, let me get this straight. We orbited the Earth, then we went to the Moon a few times, and we've sent out some satellites, landed a few roving robots on Mars, and keep trying to fix a space station that has maybe two, or at most, a half-dozen occupants at any one time.
Is that all we've done in regards to space exploration? As far as I'm concerned, that's pitiful.
Y'know, there was a time, when there was so much promise. There was a time when the year 2000, and all of the years after, there was time when that meant "The Future". And here we are, we are in what we considered to be our future, and we have done nothing. Okay, maybe not nothing. I mean, we have polluted the planet to the point where winters aren't what they used to be, and I'm not leaving myself out, I've certainly contributed to the pollution rate.
We're still fighting with each other over a viscous sludge that is running out. We're still fighting with each other over whose belief system is better. (Psst, none of them, they're all open to interpretation.) The point is, we're still fighting, and I've had enough of it.
But beyond the fighting, and all the political rhetoric that is repeatedly bandied about, I'm still disappointed that we haven't gotten any further than our own galaxy. Yes, I could have said "solar system", but we have had one or two satellites go beyond Pluto. And don't even get me started on that! I mean, it's bad enough that Pluto has aways been the runt of the Solar System. It's orbit is completely different from the other planets, it's smaller even than Mercury, and because it's so far from the sun, it's pretty much a ball of ice. But now they go and tell us that it doesn't qualify as a planet, that's just wrong.
I keep reading these articles about studies that have been performed for experiments that, to me, are just about the dumbest things I've ever heard of. I would like to know which moron was kept awake nights wondering "Gee, what if mice weren't afraid of cats?" Is that what science has come to now, breeding a mouse that can kick a cat's ass?
I'm sorry, all I know is, I want my jet pack. I want my flying car, and my apartment above the clouds. I want to work in an office that has 3-hour workdays and is run by pushing a few buttons. I want to come home and make dinner by pushing some more buttons, and I don't mean the ones on the phone to order take-out, or even by logging onto a website and placing an order.
I want the future that was written about in magazines, and I want it right now.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Journal Entry #47: Imagery
Date: December 15, 2007
Time: 21:31
If you have a good enough imagination, and a decent enough memory, your head becomes a movie projector. You can remember cartoons and play them back in your head. Or you can read a book, and if it's based on a film, you can remember what the actors sounded like and put their voices to the words in the book. Now I'm not talking about hearing voices that aren't there, they are there, they're in your memory.
But every once in a while, if you allow yourself to let your mind focus on what it wants, then you can visualize almost anything. For instance, you can listen to a particular song, and visualize a music video to go along with it.
Okay, I admit it, I've found myself doing that very thing lately. But it seems to be to only one particular song. It's "Feliz Navidad" by Jose Feliciano. It doesn't happen all the time, just once in a while, I'll hear the song, and for some strange reason, something of a montage of Christmas-themed cartoons play along with the music.
Either it's one of the many wonders that is the human brain, or I'm just plain nuts.
Time: 21:31
If you have a good enough imagination, and a decent enough memory, your head becomes a movie projector. You can remember cartoons and play them back in your head. Or you can read a book, and if it's based on a film, you can remember what the actors sounded like and put their voices to the words in the book. Now I'm not talking about hearing voices that aren't there, they are there, they're in your memory.
But every once in a while, if you allow yourself to let your mind focus on what it wants, then you can visualize almost anything. For instance, you can listen to a particular song, and visualize a music video to go along with it.
Okay, I admit it, I've found myself doing that very thing lately. But it seems to be to only one particular song. It's "Feliz Navidad" by Jose Feliciano. It doesn't happen all the time, just once in a while, I'll hear the song, and for some strange reason, something of a montage of Christmas-themed cartoons play along with the music.
Either it's one of the many wonders that is the human brain, or I'm just plain nuts.
Journal Entry #46: Ignorance
Date: December 15, 2007
Time: 01:44
Man! Between not getting enough sleep this week and having system problems tonight, I think this is the latest I've done this. Oh Well.
Onward!
For all of the information I've stored in my head, there are some subjects which I admit to being if not partially, at least totally ignorant of. Sports is one subject I can claim I have partial ignorance of. I know there are different types, I've at least heard of the Olympics, but I really don't care much for them. Oh sure, I'll show a little interest in the World Series, or the Super Bowl, but only if a New York team is involved.
I do remember watching a Super Bowl that had no New York team playing in it. I'm just not sure of which one though. I used to think it was a Bears game, but now that I've been looking, it doesn't appear to have been. The biggest thing I remember about it was that the final score was so lopsided, I wondered why the losing team ever showed up.
I believe the last Super Bowl I watched any part of was back in 1991, when we were in the Gulf the first of several hundred times around. That was the one that had the big controversy over whether Whitney Houston lip-synched to "The Star-Spangled Banner". This argument begged many to ask the question "Who cares?" I, at least, felt it necessary to ask these people the question, "Are you stupid or something? Haven't you morons realized by now how difficult it is to sing that song?" I found out, through a short film broadcast on Turner Classic Movies, that the tune that was slapped onto the original poem, is not only a British drinking song, but it apparently only sounds good if sung in four-part harmony, preferably by a barbershop quartet.
But we won't even bring up the fact that there's really 4 Verses!
But the title of this entry is called "Ignorance", and I kind of got off the subject of why.
I have read a lot of comic books over the years, and read a lot about comic books over the years, but as with anything else, I admit to not knowing everything about comics books and the characters that inhabit them. But this does not prevent me from expounding on theories about them when confronted with a question about a particular subject.
I've mentioned my friend Ray in some earlier entries, and how he and I discuss comic books. every once in a while, he'll have a question about something, either from the distant past (before he was born. I'm a bit older than he is.), or from something the relative present. Now what I tell him could be complete and total BS, but I present it in such a way, that even if it is BS, it sounds plausible enough to be true. I've even admitted to saying something that might not be true, and I've even said "But it sounds good, doesn't it?" And he agrees.
So, I admit to being ignorant about many things, but as someone once said, "If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullsh*t."
Time: 01:44
Man! Between not getting enough sleep this week and having system problems tonight, I think this is the latest I've done this. Oh Well.
Onward!
For all of the information I've stored in my head, there are some subjects which I admit to being if not partially, at least totally ignorant of. Sports is one subject I can claim I have partial ignorance of. I know there are different types, I've at least heard of the Olympics, but I really don't care much for them. Oh sure, I'll show a little interest in the World Series, or the Super Bowl, but only if a New York team is involved.
I do remember watching a Super Bowl that had no New York team playing in it. I'm just not sure of which one though. I used to think it was a Bears game, but now that I've been looking, it doesn't appear to have been. The biggest thing I remember about it was that the final score was so lopsided, I wondered why the losing team ever showed up.
I believe the last Super Bowl I watched any part of was back in 1991, when we were in the Gulf the first of several hundred times around. That was the one that had the big controversy over whether Whitney Houston lip-synched to "The Star-Spangled Banner". This argument begged many to ask the question "Who cares?" I, at least, felt it necessary to ask these people the question, "Are you stupid or something? Haven't you morons realized by now how difficult it is to sing that song?" I found out, through a short film broadcast on Turner Classic Movies, that the tune that was slapped onto the original poem, is not only a British drinking song, but it apparently only sounds good if sung in four-part harmony, preferably by a barbershop quartet.
But we won't even bring up the fact that there's really 4 Verses!
But the title of this entry is called "Ignorance", and I kind of got off the subject of why.
I have read a lot of comic books over the years, and read a lot about comic books over the years, but as with anything else, I admit to not knowing everything about comics books and the characters that inhabit them. But this does not prevent me from expounding on theories about them when confronted with a question about a particular subject.
I've mentioned my friend Ray in some earlier entries, and how he and I discuss comic books. every once in a while, he'll have a question about something, either from the distant past (before he was born. I'm a bit older than he is.), or from something the relative present. Now what I tell him could be complete and total BS, but I present it in such a way, that even if it is BS, it sounds plausible enough to be true. I've even admitted to saying something that might not be true, and I've even said "But it sounds good, doesn't it?" And he agrees.
So, I admit to being ignorant about many things, but as someone once said, "If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullsh*t."
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Journal Entry #45: Location, Location, Location
Date: December 13, 2007
Time: 22:42
As I mentioned in an earlier entry, I've visited London 3 times, and the last time I was there I started feeling very comfortable.
Now, every once in a while, when I look at my mousepad, (which is a map of the London Underground), I get a feeling of homesickness, or it could just mean I want to go back (or so the would-be psychologists would try and have me believe. You know who you are.).
There is a website I used to visit called "Camvista.com". They have webcams all over Europe, and of course, many situated in and around London. Sometimes viewing those cams would only make things worse.
Lately, however, I don't feel as "homesick" as I used to, but I have been feeling something. What I've been feeling, and it came to me about a half an hour ago when I was looking at Google Earth. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't be living in a different city. Which one? I don't know!
Look, all I know is, I'm trying to figure out where I belong, where I fit in, and I've been trying to figure that out for more years than I care to name, and I've been doing it in New York City. I haven't figured it out, so maybe I need to go somewhere else, maybe I need a different perspective on things and the only way I'm going to get that is if I go somewhere else.
So, of course, now I have a new problem. I have to try and figure out where I can go that can help me figure out where I belong. Well, if there's at least one thing I know how to do well, it's how to make things more complicated than they need to be.
Time: 22:42
As I mentioned in an earlier entry, I've visited London 3 times, and the last time I was there I started feeling very comfortable.
Now, every once in a while, when I look at my mousepad, (which is a map of the London Underground), I get a feeling of homesickness, or it could just mean I want to go back (or so the would-be psychologists would try and have me believe. You know who you are.).
There is a website I used to visit called "Camvista.com". They have webcams all over Europe, and of course, many situated in and around London. Sometimes viewing those cams would only make things worse.
Lately, however, I don't feel as "homesick" as I used to, but I have been feeling something. What I've been feeling, and it came to me about a half an hour ago when I was looking at Google Earth. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't be living in a different city. Which one? I don't know!
Look, all I know is, I'm trying to figure out where I belong, where I fit in, and I've been trying to figure that out for more years than I care to name, and I've been doing it in New York City. I haven't figured it out, so maybe I need to go somewhere else, maybe I need a different perspective on things and the only way I'm going to get that is if I go somewhere else.
So, of course, now I have a new problem. I have to try and figure out where I can go that can help me figure out where I belong. Well, if there's at least one thing I know how to do well, it's how to make things more complicated than they need to be.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Journal Entry #44: Ambition
Date: December 12, 2007
Time: 23:57
People are always making mistakes when they attempt to figure me out.
For instance, the biggest mistake people make is assuming that because I am fat, I eat everything. I don't. I eat a lot of certain foods, and not all of them are very healthy.
Another mistake they make is thinking that I know everything. Wrong again. I know a little bit about a lot of different subjects. What aids me in this gathering of knowledge is my ability to remember a great deal of that information.
But I think the biggest mistake people have made is their thinking I have no ambition.
I believe I do have ambition, it just doesn't apply to what I am doing now. For example, my boss would like for me to get more involved in the day-to-day goings on at a construction contractor. Such as, like today, going to a jobsite and watching concrete getting poured. Fascinating, for about 3 nanoseconds. In fact, just the other day, she pointed out that I don't have much in the way of ambition. Of course, I disagreed. I said, "I have ambition, just not for this."
So I have ambition, I just don't what for, so I feel like I'm doing 90 in a car with rear-wheel drive, and the back wheels are up in the air.
Time: 23:57
People are always making mistakes when they attempt to figure me out.
For instance, the biggest mistake people make is assuming that because I am fat, I eat everything. I don't. I eat a lot of certain foods, and not all of them are very healthy.
Another mistake they make is thinking that I know everything. Wrong again. I know a little bit about a lot of different subjects. What aids me in this gathering of knowledge is my ability to remember a great deal of that information.
But I think the biggest mistake people have made is their thinking I have no ambition.
I believe I do have ambition, it just doesn't apply to what I am doing now. For example, my boss would like for me to get more involved in the day-to-day goings on at a construction contractor. Such as, like today, going to a jobsite and watching concrete getting poured. Fascinating, for about 3 nanoseconds. In fact, just the other day, she pointed out that I don't have much in the way of ambition. Of course, I disagreed. I said, "I have ambition, just not for this."
So I have ambition, I just don't what for, so I feel like I'm doing 90 in a car with rear-wheel drive, and the back wheels are up in the air.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Journal Entry #43: Excerpts
Date: December 11, 2007
Time: 22:45
I'm taking a big risk here. I'm going to share a couple of excerpts from some of the stories I've written.
This is an excerpt from one of my detective stories:
Regina Caldwell is why men become poets. Her beauty is why sonnets are written and why birds find it necessary to sing. Her voice is why the sun rises and the moon sets. Her eyes could melt the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge before the ghosts show up. And if my wife ever knew that I thought things like that she’d kill me. Come to think of it, so would Regina.
This next bit is the opening paragraph from the first original story I wrote:
Childhood was dying. It lay in its bed, looking to all the world like a wizened old man. Those that were gathered at the bedside grew more frightened with each gasping breath. The de facto leader of the group removed Time from the room. Time was never any help in situations such as these. With her inherent arrogance, She would do naught but admonish they who lay dying. She would berate whoever they were for not making the most of the time they were given. Under most circumstances, She’d be allowed to rant and rave as much as She pleased. But this was different, this was Childhood.
This next one is the opening paragraph of what I refer to as my "Magnum Opus", the story it took me six months to write, the story that was inspired by a series of automobile commercials:
On a speck that the Universe would come to know as “Earth”, three beings that may be described as neither male nor female, stood atop a mountain, and in a language that is now long dead and forgotten, spoke amongst themselves. They stood facing each other. “Are they set?” asked the First. “Yes, they are set.” replied the Second. “Good, now we may leave.” said the Third. And with no further discussion, they left. What they left behind, however, they hoped no one would ever have to find.
And if I can ever get a literary agent and get that story published, you'll get to find out what that is, or was.
And now, these last two are from the Doctor Who/Quantum Leap crossover story that I've been working on, and someday, I'll find a way to put all of the sections I've written together in one big story.
Deep within the Milky Way, a mere thirty-thousand light years from the center, there sits an unassuming star system. It is called “The Constellation of Kasterborous”, although who or what Kasterborous is, or even was, has been lost to memory. But we are not concerned with the name of the star system. We are, however, concerned with the fourth planet. It is home to a most wondrous and unique race of people, a group of beings who claim mastery over time and space, “The Time Lords”. The planet, and the main city complex the Time Lords inhabit, are both called “Gallifrey”.
And this:
From the moment he stepped from the Imaging Chamber, Al sensed something was different. Not “wrong”, just, “different”. The thing that was wrong was that he’d just left his friend in an unusual situation, and he didn’t see anyway out of it. Sam’s body had disappeared from the Waiting Room, and it had taken Al and Gooshie several hours to find him. When he finally found him, he was sitting outside a bar, and babbling something about meeting Al’s Uncle Steve. And then, as if that weren’t enough, Sam began laughing for no apparent reason. With a look of confusion on his face, and a quick word of assurance that he’d be all right, Al stepped back through the door, and back into the control room. He’d taken a moment to collect his thoughts, and that’s when it hit him, the feeling that something was different. He checked everything in the control room. Nothing unusual there, except maybe Gooshie and Tina making goo-goo eyes at each other as they tried to keep track of Sam’s whereabouts. That was not only not unusual, it was downright disgusting. But he really shouldn’t complain. It wasn’t the first time he stepped out of the Imaging Chamber and found the two of them in a relationship. Once, they were even married! No, there was something else going on and he meant to find out what it was.
Time: 22:45
I'm taking a big risk here. I'm going to share a couple of excerpts from some of the stories I've written.
This is an excerpt from one of my detective stories:
Regina Caldwell is why men become poets. Her beauty is why sonnets are written and why birds find it necessary to sing. Her voice is why the sun rises and the moon sets. Her eyes could melt the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge before the ghosts show up. And if my wife ever knew that I thought things like that she’d kill me. Come to think of it, so would Regina.
This next bit is the opening paragraph from the first original story I wrote:
Childhood was dying. It lay in its bed, looking to all the world like a wizened old man. Those that were gathered at the bedside grew more frightened with each gasping breath. The de facto leader of the group removed Time from the room. Time was never any help in situations such as these. With her inherent arrogance, She would do naught but admonish they who lay dying. She would berate whoever they were for not making the most of the time they were given. Under most circumstances, She’d be allowed to rant and rave as much as She pleased. But this was different, this was Childhood.
This next one is the opening paragraph of what I refer to as my "Magnum Opus", the story it took me six months to write, the story that was inspired by a series of automobile commercials:
On a speck that the Universe would come to know as “Earth”, three beings that may be described as neither male nor female, stood atop a mountain, and in a language that is now long dead and forgotten, spoke amongst themselves. They stood facing each other. “Are they set?” asked the First. “Yes, they are set.” replied the Second. “Good, now we may leave.” said the Third. And with no further discussion, they left. What they left behind, however, they hoped no one would ever have to find.
And if I can ever get a literary agent and get that story published, you'll get to find out what that is, or was.
And now, these last two are from the Doctor Who/Quantum Leap crossover story that I've been working on, and someday, I'll find a way to put all of the sections I've written together in one big story.
Deep within the Milky Way, a mere thirty-thousand light years from the center, there sits an unassuming star system. It is called “The Constellation of Kasterborous”, although who or what Kasterborous is, or even was, has been lost to memory. But we are not concerned with the name of the star system. We are, however, concerned with the fourth planet. It is home to a most wondrous and unique race of people, a group of beings who claim mastery over time and space, “The Time Lords”. The planet, and the main city complex the Time Lords inhabit, are both called “Gallifrey”.
And this:
From the moment he stepped from the Imaging Chamber, Al sensed something was different. Not “wrong”, just, “different”. The thing that was wrong was that he’d just left his friend in an unusual situation, and he didn’t see anyway out of it. Sam’s body had disappeared from the Waiting Room, and it had taken Al and Gooshie several hours to find him. When he finally found him, he was sitting outside a bar, and babbling something about meeting Al’s Uncle Steve. And then, as if that weren’t enough, Sam began laughing for no apparent reason. With a look of confusion on his face, and a quick word of assurance that he’d be all right, Al stepped back through the door, and back into the control room. He’d taken a moment to collect his thoughts, and that’s when it hit him, the feeling that something was different. He checked everything in the control room. Nothing unusual there, except maybe Gooshie and Tina making goo-goo eyes at each other as they tried to keep track of Sam’s whereabouts. That was not only not unusual, it was downright disgusting. But he really shouldn’t complain. It wasn’t the first time he stepped out of the Imaging Chamber and found the two of them in a relationship. Once, they were even married! No, there was something else going on and he meant to find out what it was.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Journal Entry #42: Let's Pretend
Date: December 10, 2007
Time: 22:58
"Let's Pretend", "Let's Make-Believe", Now I know I'm not the only one who ever played that as a child. And no, I'm not talking about "The Land of Make-Believe" from "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood", although there was one part of the show that I actually liked. It was whenever they showed those little model buildings. I'm talking about the ones that you saw at the opening of every episode, and you would see them again whenever he went out of his house. Yes, those!
But getting back to what I was originally talking about, "pretending". Not to sound egotistical or anything, but I learned a long time ago how powerful an imagination could be. Sometimes, it was all I had.
I mentioned before how there were times when all I was allowed to do for entertainment was to listen to this dinky (read crappy), little AM radio. But when certain songs played, my bedroom window became my orchestra. It was pretty easy to imagine something where there was nothing because at the time, we were 31 floors up. At that height, the only mammals that could have poked fun at me were the seagulls, or the pigeons, and who were they to talk?
There were times though, when my pretend orchestra did not follow the arrangement I had seen in an encyclopedia. But since I was the conductor of this particular pretend orchestra, I could pretty much do what I wanted, and if I wanted the piano next to me as I conducted my pretend orchestra, then that's where the piano was going to be. :-þ
Time: 22:58
"Let's Pretend", "Let's Make-Believe", Now I know I'm not the only one who ever played that as a child. And no, I'm not talking about "The Land of Make-Believe" from "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood", although there was one part of the show that I actually liked. It was whenever they showed those little model buildings. I'm talking about the ones that you saw at the opening of every episode, and you would see them again whenever he went out of his house. Yes, those!
But getting back to what I was originally talking about, "pretending". Not to sound egotistical or anything, but I learned a long time ago how powerful an imagination could be. Sometimes, it was all I had.
I mentioned before how there were times when all I was allowed to do for entertainment was to listen to this dinky (read crappy), little AM radio. But when certain songs played, my bedroom window became my orchestra. It was pretty easy to imagine something where there was nothing because at the time, we were 31 floors up. At that height, the only mammals that could have poked fun at me were the seagulls, or the pigeons, and who were they to talk?
There were times though, when my pretend orchestra did not follow the arrangement I had seen in an encyclopedia. But since I was the conductor of this particular pretend orchestra, I could pretty much do what I wanted, and if I wanted the piano next to me as I conducted my pretend orchestra, then that's where the piano was going to be. :-þ
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Journal Entry #41: Pandora's Box
Date: December 9, 2007
Time: 22:18
Way back in the mists of time, CBS Television used to run programming late at night. This was around midnight to maybe two o'clock in the morning, and as I worked nights, and would invariably stay awake until all hours of the night on my days off, I had the opportunity to watch some of these programs.
They all seemed to be produced in Canada, and the two I remember well were "Night Heat" and "Adderly". But the important thing to know is after these shows were on, CBS ran reruns of a program that was originally aired on that network in 1968, that program was called "The Prisoner", and it starred Patrick McGoohan in the lead role.
I got hooked on this show big time, I went looking for books about it, and I found two very important books. One was "The Official Prisoner Companion", a behind the scenes sort of book that also had the entire episode guide and a breakdown of each episode. It even had the address and phone number of where I could buy the videotapes. Which I soon did.
The other book I bought listed the "25 Best and Worst Science-Fiction Television". It was the 15 Best, and 10 Worst. Of course, "Star Trek" was #1, Twilight Zone was 2, and Outer Limits was 3. The Prisoner was 10, and this rather interesting little show called "Doctor Who" was #5.
So I read what there was about it in the book, and I saw there were a few videos to rent in Blockbuster®, and I watched them. I saw "The Five Doctors", a 20th Anniversary Special, "Deadly Assassin", and two theatrically-released movies based on two previously aired episodes. These movies starred Peter Cushing. Although, in the films, he was called "Doctor Who", and his travel machine, the TARDIS was something he had built himself.
But even as I watched the television episodes, and even the movies, the wheels in my head began to turn. And yet, it wasn't until much later that I became a fan. It was shortly after my brother had been diagnosed with HIV, that I subconsciously needed an outlet for the nervous energy that was building up inside me.
One day, I happened to be talking with one of the people in the VAX area of Network Operations, his name was Mike. Mike and I soon got into a discussion about Doctor Who, and he lent me some of the tapes that he owned, and once again I saw "The Five Doctors", "Deadly Assassin", but this time I also got to see a program called "Day of the Daleks", and I also saw all of these tapes with a different perspective. You see, before, when I saw the tapes, I watched them as a fan of science-fiction. This time, I was watching them as a science-fiction fan, there's a difference. You see, this time, I was watching tapes that belonged to fan of the program, that gave them a vibe that the other tapes, the rentals, did not have. And then the wheels in my head started to spin more rapidly.
And then, I was in a store called "Coconuts". They sold music and videotapes. I'm browsing through their videos, and there it is, a Doctor Who video that I have not seen. Well sure, there are a lot of them that I haven't seen, but this one was different. This one featured the Seventh incarnation of the being called "The Doctor", and this particular tape had extra footage that the previous release, which I had long since missed, did not.
So I bought it, finally, and I watched it. And I became hooked!
There was a moment in this episode, one tiny moment, that made me think. There was this bit of business where the Doctor is talking with a soldier on guard duty, and it was at that moment that I saw his eyes. The actor protraying the Doctor at this point is named Sylvester McCoy and his companion is Ace, played by Sophie Aldred. I looked at the Doctor's eyes and saw something, I felt there was something else there, something more than simply being a Time Lord.
Now this was long before I knew anything about the missing footage from a prior story called "Remembrance of the Daleks", and way before I even read the novelization of the final story, "Survival". So the Seventh Doctor, became "My Doctor", and his companion Ace, became my favorite companion.
In 1996, some months after my brother died from AIDS, and I took possession of his typewriter, I wrote a Doctor Who story, featuring the 8th incarnation of the Doctor, and his companion of the moment was a friend of mine who comes back after his travels and tells me the story that I may write it. I dedicated the story to my friend Mike, the guy who let me the tapes, which led to my becoming a Doctor Who Fan.
I wrote "Dedicated to Michael Taylor, who no idea of the Pandora's Box he was opening when he decided to lend me those tapes.", and I gave him a copy of the story.
I just wish I could that one published more than anything, but I can't. Y'see, that's the story that goes against all of the rules set down by the BBC for all authors that wish to write Doctor Who stories. Well, it's the first story that does that. ;-)
Time: 22:18
Way back in the mists of time, CBS Television used to run programming late at night. This was around midnight to maybe two o'clock in the morning, and as I worked nights, and would invariably stay awake until all hours of the night on my days off, I had the opportunity to watch some of these programs.
They all seemed to be produced in Canada, and the two I remember well were "Night Heat" and "Adderly". But the important thing to know is after these shows were on, CBS ran reruns of a program that was originally aired on that network in 1968, that program was called "The Prisoner", and it starred Patrick McGoohan in the lead role.
I got hooked on this show big time, I went looking for books about it, and I found two very important books. One was "The Official Prisoner Companion", a behind the scenes sort of book that also had the entire episode guide and a breakdown of each episode. It even had the address and phone number of where I could buy the videotapes. Which I soon did.
The other book I bought listed the "25 Best and Worst Science-Fiction Television". It was the 15 Best, and 10 Worst. Of course, "Star Trek" was #1, Twilight Zone was 2, and Outer Limits was 3. The Prisoner was 10, and this rather interesting little show called "Doctor Who" was #5.
So I read what there was about it in the book, and I saw there were a few videos to rent in Blockbuster®, and I watched them. I saw "The Five Doctors", a 20th Anniversary Special, "Deadly Assassin", and two theatrically-released movies based on two previously aired episodes. These movies starred Peter Cushing. Although, in the films, he was called "Doctor Who", and his travel machine, the TARDIS was something he had built himself.
But even as I watched the television episodes, and even the movies, the wheels in my head began to turn. And yet, it wasn't until much later that I became a fan. It was shortly after my brother had been diagnosed with HIV, that I subconsciously needed an outlet for the nervous energy that was building up inside me.
One day, I happened to be talking with one of the people in the VAX area of Network Operations, his name was Mike. Mike and I soon got into a discussion about Doctor Who, and he lent me some of the tapes that he owned, and once again I saw "The Five Doctors", "Deadly Assassin", but this time I also got to see a program called "Day of the Daleks", and I also saw all of these tapes with a different perspective. You see, before, when I saw the tapes, I watched them as a fan of science-fiction. This time, I was watching them as a science-fiction fan, there's a difference. You see, this time, I was watching tapes that belonged to fan of the program, that gave them a vibe that the other tapes, the rentals, did not have. And then the wheels in my head started to spin more rapidly.
And then, I was in a store called "Coconuts". They sold music and videotapes. I'm browsing through their videos, and there it is, a Doctor Who video that I have not seen. Well sure, there are a lot of them that I haven't seen, but this one was different. This one featured the Seventh incarnation of the being called "The Doctor", and this particular tape had extra footage that the previous release, which I had long since missed, did not.
So I bought it, finally, and I watched it. And I became hooked!
There was a moment in this episode, one tiny moment, that made me think. There was this bit of business where the Doctor is talking with a soldier on guard duty, and it was at that moment that I saw his eyes. The actor protraying the Doctor at this point is named Sylvester McCoy and his companion is Ace, played by Sophie Aldred. I looked at the Doctor's eyes and saw something, I felt there was something else there, something more than simply being a Time Lord.
Now this was long before I knew anything about the missing footage from a prior story called "Remembrance of the Daleks", and way before I even read the novelization of the final story, "Survival". So the Seventh Doctor, became "My Doctor", and his companion Ace, became my favorite companion.
In 1996, some months after my brother died from AIDS, and I took possession of his typewriter, I wrote a Doctor Who story, featuring the 8th incarnation of the Doctor, and his companion of the moment was a friend of mine who comes back after his travels and tells me the story that I may write it. I dedicated the story to my friend Mike, the guy who let me the tapes, which led to my becoming a Doctor Who Fan.
I wrote "Dedicated to Michael Taylor, who no idea of the Pandora's Box he was opening when he decided to lend me those tapes.", and I gave him a copy of the story.
I just wish I could that one published more than anything, but I can't. Y'see, that's the story that goes against all of the rules set down by the BBC for all authors that wish to write Doctor Who stories. Well, it's the first story that does that. ;-)
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Journal Entry #40: Vagaries of Time
Date: December 8, 2007
Time: 23:57
Almost slipped my mind this time.
Time: 23:57
Almost slipped my mind this time.
In Journal Entry #11, I made mention of using Google Earth to go flying through space. I mention that because I had an idea of what to write and I wanted to see if I had written it before. I also spoke of one of the actors from Doctor Who being part of what inspired my first story.
The actresses' name is Sophie Aldred, she portrayed the character known as "Ace". In the interview she said that if a big blue police box, which is what The Doctor's travel machine looks like, were to appear in her sitting room, and a man stepped out and said "You can sit here and drink cups of tea and go to work and live your life, or I can take you on a trip through time and space." She said that she would go. My story added one little phrase, "And have you back before anyone knows you've been gone." This is something I'd always thought about long before I ever knew the series existed.
Many science-fiction television series, books, comic books, and even a play or two, have dealt with the subject of time travel, and I've always felt that if you were to go into the future, or to the past, you should be able to come back to when you left so no one would know you'd been gone, and would therefore not miss you, or give your apartment to someone else.
But in some ways, there is a drawback to traveling into the future. What you see there, isn't necessarily going to stay there. In other words, "The future has not been written. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves." Cliched? Sure! But it's still true.
And don't go thinking that past can be changed, either, there are laws against that. Not the kind of laws you think, but let's say you go back and kill a dictator before they are born, or come to power, history says that there was a dictator at a certain time in a certain place, and if you get rid of the one eveyone remembers, history will put another in his place, maybe a worse one.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Journal Entry #39: Fairy Tales
Date: December 7, 2007
Time: 23:41
I think I may have mentioned a few times, either on here or out in what is called "Real Life", that I read a great deal when I was growing up. As I was a child at one point, it was sort of expected of me to read fairy tales.
But I found out something a long time ago that people are only finding out about today, the Grimm Brothers, Hans Christian Andersen, and even Aesop, have a lot to answer for. I won't get on the case of Carlo Collodi, the creator of Pinocchio, he has enough problems.
But those other three, fairy tales were never meant to be told to children, or at least, should have come with a PG label on the book. Why, in one story alone, entitle "Great Claus and Little Claus" (no relation to Santa), you have moments of fraud, con artistry, blackmail, suicide, and even murder, all cleverly disguised. http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_claus.html
There were few, if any "happy endings" in any of Andersen's tales, people died, were transformed, or as in the case of "The Little Mermaid", well, I'll let you read that for yourself. http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_merma.html
Speaking of unhappy endings, I will give you one more link to "The Steadfast Tin Soldier". http://hca.gilead.org.il/tin_sold.html Okay, this site calls it "The Brave Tin Soldier", but the story's the same. There is really only one part of the entire story I happen to like, but as I don't want to ruin any of it for you, I will just say this "curbside stream", and maybe one day, I'll tell you more.
Time: 23:41
I think I may have mentioned a few times, either on here or out in what is called "Real Life", that I read a great deal when I was growing up. As I was a child at one point, it was sort of expected of me to read fairy tales.
But I found out something a long time ago that people are only finding out about today, the Grimm Brothers, Hans Christian Andersen, and even Aesop, have a lot to answer for. I won't get on the case of Carlo Collodi, the creator of Pinocchio, he has enough problems.
But those other three, fairy tales were never meant to be told to children, or at least, should have come with a PG label on the book. Why, in one story alone, entitle "Great Claus and Little Claus" (no relation to Santa), you have moments of fraud, con artistry, blackmail, suicide, and even murder, all cleverly disguised. http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_claus.html
There were few, if any "happy endings" in any of Andersen's tales, people died, were transformed, or as in the case of "The Little Mermaid", well, I'll let you read that for yourself. http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_merma.html
Speaking of unhappy endings, I will give you one more link to "The Steadfast Tin Soldier". http://hca.gilead.org.il/tin_sold.html Okay, this site calls it "The Brave Tin Soldier", but the story's the same. There is really only one part of the entire story I happen to like, but as I don't want to ruin any of it for you, I will just say this "curbside stream", and maybe one day, I'll tell you more.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Journal Entry #38: The Funnies
Date: December 6, 2007
Time: 22:41
I finally figured out what to write about this evening. I admit it, there have been more than a few times when I have had idea zero as to what to write here, but now I have a subject: Comic Strips.
Now, now, I'm not going to into the history of comic strips, talking about one of the first political cartoons, or anything like that, I'm going to write about some of my favorites, and some of them are not in the newspaper, at least not in any New York paper I've seen.
I read Online Comic Strips.
One of the funniest I've read so far is called "Sheldon" by Dave Kellett.
Sheldon concerns a 10-year old boy, who is not only a genius, but he owns his very own multi-billion dollar software company. He lives with his grandfather, a duck named "Arthur", into whom young Sheldon implanted a dictionary, and voice-recognition software, and now Arthur can talk. He recently got a Pug dog named "Oso", Arthur hatched an egg that turned out to have lizard in it, who was soon named "Flaco", and Sheldon has a best friend named "Dante".
I discovered the existence of this strip many years ago when I was using the internet for something other than work. I later had the opportunity to meet the creator of this strip at the New York Comic-Con in 2006, and I bought the first book of collected strips from him and got it autographed.
I had to put the book down after a few minutes because I couldn't stop laughing.
http://www.sheldoncomics.com/
Yahoo.com has a great many online only strips, as does Comics.com, and Ucomics.com
There is one newspaper's website I've found that not only has some online only strips, but one comic strip in particular that you probably wouldn't get to see otherwise. The newspaper is the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, and the strip is "The Phantom" by Lee Falk.
What I like most about this particular strip is you get two stories for the same price. There is one storyline that runs Monday to Saturday, and another that is Sunday only. http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/fun/phantom.asp
Now I have to warn you, the storyline that that link takes you to has been going on for over a month. It concerns a little girl who has been going around her city, painting pictures of an heroic figure of a man she believes she made up, but in "reality", it's The Phantom, and he's been going around trying to cover up the paintings so no one asks too many questions. Her parents tried taking her to a psychiatrist because they found pictures she had drawn of this "Hero" and thought she was obsessed with "him", and had in fact, copied the figure from the graffiti.
There's more to the story, but I'll let you find it out for yourself.
Be advised though, a lot of these strips that have ongoing stories only go back a set number of days, so if you've missed the beginning, like with this one, you're pretty much stuck.
Unless of course, they find a way to reprint them.
Time: 22:41
I finally figured out what to write about this evening. I admit it, there have been more than a few times when I have had idea zero as to what to write here, but now I have a subject: Comic Strips.
Now, now, I'm not going to into the history of comic strips, talking about one of the first political cartoons, or anything like that, I'm going to write about some of my favorites, and some of them are not in the newspaper, at least not in any New York paper I've seen.
I read Online Comic Strips.
One of the funniest I've read so far is called "Sheldon" by Dave Kellett.
Sheldon concerns a 10-year old boy, who is not only a genius, but he owns his very own multi-billion dollar software company. He lives with his grandfather, a duck named "Arthur", into whom young Sheldon implanted a dictionary, and voice-recognition software, and now Arthur can talk. He recently got a Pug dog named "Oso", Arthur hatched an egg that turned out to have lizard in it, who was soon named "Flaco", and Sheldon has a best friend named "Dante".
I discovered the existence of this strip many years ago when I was using the internet for something other than work. I later had the opportunity to meet the creator of this strip at the New York Comic-Con in 2006, and I bought the first book of collected strips from him and got it autographed.
I had to put the book down after a few minutes because I couldn't stop laughing.
http://www.sheldoncomics.com/
Yahoo.com has a great many online only strips, as does Comics.com, and Ucomics.com
There is one newspaper's website I've found that not only has some online only strips, but one comic strip in particular that you probably wouldn't get to see otherwise. The newspaper is the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, and the strip is "The Phantom" by Lee Falk.
What I like most about this particular strip is you get two stories for the same price. There is one storyline that runs Monday to Saturday, and another that is Sunday only. http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/fun/phantom.asp
Now I have to warn you, the storyline that that link takes you to has been going on for over a month. It concerns a little girl who has been going around her city, painting pictures of an heroic figure of a man she believes she made up, but in "reality", it's The Phantom, and he's been going around trying to cover up the paintings so no one asks too many questions. Her parents tried taking her to a psychiatrist because they found pictures she had drawn of this "Hero" and thought she was obsessed with "him", and had in fact, copied the figure from the graffiti.
There's more to the story, but I'll let you find it out for yourself.
Be advised though, a lot of these strips that have ongoing stories only go back a set number of days, so if you've missed the beginning, like with this one, you're pretty much stuck.
Unless of course, they find a way to reprint them.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Journal Entry #37: Other Abilities
Date: December 5, 2007
Time: 23:48
So let's review, I am a fair to middling writer, or so I've been told, and I have been informed that I take a pretty good picture, and that's not to say that I'm photogenic, I'm rather talented when it comes to using a camera. And as I've said on many occasions, I have a very good memory, if my brain is allowed to work properly.
But if the truth be known, there are times when I wish I was gifted in other ways.
I wish I could read music and play a musical instrument, and maybe even sing a little.
Of the instruments that are available, if I were talented enough to play one, I think I would like to be able to play either the piano, or the saxophone. I don't care if I wasn't good enough to play with a group or an orchestra, I just wish I could play.
Okay, I hear it, "So why don't you take lessons?" Time, patience, money. I don't have much of any of them at this point in my life. So all I can do at this time is wish.
Time: 23:48
So let's review, I am a fair to middling writer, or so I've been told, and I have been informed that I take a pretty good picture, and that's not to say that I'm photogenic, I'm rather talented when it comes to using a camera. And as I've said on many occasions, I have a very good memory, if my brain is allowed to work properly.
But if the truth be known, there are times when I wish I was gifted in other ways.
I wish I could read music and play a musical instrument, and maybe even sing a little.
Of the instruments that are available, if I were talented enough to play one, I think I would like to be able to play either the piano, or the saxophone. I don't care if I wasn't good enough to play with a group or an orchestra, I just wish I could play.
Okay, I hear it, "So why don't you take lessons?" Time, patience, money. I don't have much of any of them at this point in my life. So all I can do at this time is wish.
Journal Entry #36: Favorites
Date: December 5, 2007
Time: 00:28
*Yawn!* Dozed off for a few hours.
Tuesday evening I was asked what my favorite scary movie was. I had to admit that I didn't really have one. I did have a scene from one that still gives me the jumps. It's from the film "Poltergeist", when the clown doll appears from under the bed and wraps its arm around the kid's neck. Just the doll's appearance makes me jump, even though I know it's coming, I still flinch a great deal when it happens.
I guess that's why I don't watch that movie anymore.
But that led me to think of the fact that I don't really have a favorite movie, I say that I have a few favorites, but it's due mostly to the fact that what I call my "favorites" are actually made of a lot of scenes that I especially like.
Take for example "People Will Talk" (1951) Starring Cary Grant. In this film, Cary Grant plays Dr. Noah Praetorius. He teaches at a medical school and is the head of his own medical clinic. As the main character, he of course has some of the best lines, but it's the following scenes that I love most. 1) Around the beginning of the film when he steps in to take over the lecture of another professor at the college. 2) When he's on rounds in the clinic. 3) When he visits the father of this one female patient of his. 4) When he appears before a board of inquiry to tell the story of his past, and especially about the man who never leaves his side, 'the man called Shunderson'. 5) Even though he doesn't tell most of the story of Mr. Shunderson, the care that Praetorius feels for this apparently simple man is easily seen and felt.
And finally, 6) Which even though is a bit of what is called "A Spoiler", it occurs at the end of the film, when Dr. Pratorius is conducting the school orchestra and chorus. I won't give away what muisc is being performed, you'll have to watch it yourself.
Time: 00:28
*Yawn!* Dozed off for a few hours.
Tuesday evening I was asked what my favorite scary movie was. I had to admit that I didn't really have one. I did have a scene from one that still gives me the jumps. It's from the film "Poltergeist", when the clown doll appears from under the bed and wraps its arm around the kid's neck. Just the doll's appearance makes me jump, even though I know it's coming, I still flinch a great deal when it happens.
I guess that's why I don't watch that movie anymore.
But that led me to think of the fact that I don't really have a favorite movie, I say that I have a few favorites, but it's due mostly to the fact that what I call my "favorites" are actually made of a lot of scenes that I especially like.
Take for example "People Will Talk" (1951) Starring Cary Grant. In this film, Cary Grant plays Dr. Noah Praetorius. He teaches at a medical school and is the head of his own medical clinic. As the main character, he of course has some of the best lines, but it's the following scenes that I love most. 1) Around the beginning of the film when he steps in to take over the lecture of another professor at the college. 2) When he's on rounds in the clinic. 3) When he visits the father of this one female patient of his. 4) When he appears before a board of inquiry to tell the story of his past, and especially about the man who never leaves his side, 'the man called Shunderson'. 5) Even though he doesn't tell most of the story of Mr. Shunderson, the care that Praetorius feels for this apparently simple man is easily seen and felt.
And finally, 6) Which even though is a bit of what is called "A Spoiler", it occurs at the end of the film, when Dr. Pratorius is conducting the school orchestra and chorus. I won't give away what muisc is being performed, you'll have to watch it yourself.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Journal Entry #35: Saturday Mornings
Date: December 3, 2007
Time: 22:50
When I was growing up, Saturday mornings were something special. Especially when I was allowed to watch television. Saturday mornings when I was a kid meant cartoons. Real cartoons, not these 22 minute, not counting the commercials, ads for toys and such. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there's a use for them.
In fact, when they brought back "G.I. Joe" action figures, albeit at 5" tall, I saw the commercials for them and immediately said "There gonna make a cartoon series." Okay, I was about 16 years old when I said it, but I was right.
But cartoons when I was young were different, they were populated by Bugs' Bunny, Daffy Duck, The Road Runner and the Coyote. You had the Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show, a spin-off of "The Flinstones" and yet, a carbon copy, to an extent, of "The Archies". You see, back in the 1970s, whatever your characters did in your cartoon, usually hunting down fake ghosts or international spies, you had to have them appear as a musical group at least once during the program. The only cartoon characters that were allowed to appear as a musical group more than once were the only ones that were a musical group in the first place, "Josie and the Pussycats".
"The Archies" were a close second, but they would only appear as a group if the script called for it. I have to admit that there was one cartoon series I watched that, looking back, was pretty much the worst of the lot. That series was called "The Brady Kids". Yeah, them.
I think what made it so bad was, oh let me see, there was the talking bird, the two pandas, and the fact after the first year, the voices for Greg, Marcia, and Peter were performed by other actors. Oh, and we cannot forget "Jabberjaw", the undersea music group with a pet shark that played the drums, and sounded like Curly from The 3 Stooges.
But I have to say, my favorite program out of all of them was "The Banana Splits Show". It featured 4 people dressed in these fuzzy costumes, and they "hosted" a variety of cartoon shows and one live action series called "Danger Island" that co-starred an actor by the name of Jan-Michael Vincent. The one thing I always wished for was to be able to ride in the little six-wheeled carts they rode around an amusement park in.
Still do.
Time: 22:50
When I was growing up, Saturday mornings were something special. Especially when I was allowed to watch television. Saturday mornings when I was a kid meant cartoons. Real cartoons, not these 22 minute, not counting the commercials, ads for toys and such. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there's a use for them.
In fact, when they brought back "G.I. Joe" action figures, albeit at 5" tall, I saw the commercials for them and immediately said "There gonna make a cartoon series." Okay, I was about 16 years old when I said it, but I was right.
But cartoons when I was young were different, they were populated by Bugs' Bunny, Daffy Duck, The Road Runner and the Coyote. You had the Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show, a spin-off of "The Flinstones" and yet, a carbon copy, to an extent, of "The Archies". You see, back in the 1970s, whatever your characters did in your cartoon, usually hunting down fake ghosts or international spies, you had to have them appear as a musical group at least once during the program. The only cartoon characters that were allowed to appear as a musical group more than once were the only ones that were a musical group in the first place, "Josie and the Pussycats".
"The Archies" were a close second, but they would only appear as a group if the script called for it. I have to admit that there was one cartoon series I watched that, looking back, was pretty much the worst of the lot. That series was called "The Brady Kids". Yeah, them.
I think what made it so bad was, oh let me see, there was the talking bird, the two pandas, and the fact after the first year, the voices for Greg, Marcia, and Peter were performed by other actors. Oh, and we cannot forget "Jabberjaw", the undersea music group with a pet shark that played the drums, and sounded like Curly from The 3 Stooges.
But I have to say, my favorite program out of all of them was "The Banana Splits Show". It featured 4 people dressed in these fuzzy costumes, and they "hosted" a variety of cartoon shows and one live action series called "Danger Island" that co-starred an actor by the name of Jan-Michael Vincent. The one thing I always wished for was to be able to ride in the little six-wheeled carts they rode around an amusement park in.
Still do.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Journal Entry #34: Believability
Date: December 2, 2007
Time: 22:24
"He was hoist by his own petard."
I learned this expression while reading one of my science-fiction, or possibly it was a fantasy book, but in any event, this expression applies to me in a couple of ways.
I have been attending DeVry since April 2005, and all during that time, I have told many people how lousy I am in math. Unfortunately, with the grades I have gotten, no one believes me. Especially after getting a B in Statistics the first time out. I have been told that I have this tendency to needlessly worry over whether or not I'll pass a class, and lo and behold, I pass. So people tell me I worry over nothing.
If they only knew that it's my constant worrying that gives me the impetus to work my ass off.
Now, it is highly possible that anyone who has read that last line might have found it funny, or at the very least, somewhat humorous. This is another instance in which I find myself "hoist".
I use humor as a defence mechanism. It's not really much of a conscious thing, but I've used it so often, that even when I'm serious about something, people think I'm joking, or I'm trying to be funny. Even when I tell them that I'm not joking, or that I'm not kidding, they still have this inkling that maybe I am trying to be funny. Sadly, I'm not.
Through my writing, I have learned that I have a certain cadence to my speech, and I have a tendency to use that cadence when I write. It is as a result of this speech cadence that no matter what I say, it seems to come out as a joke. I've tried changing it, I've tried to not be funny, but nothing seems to work.
So my only recourse is to say nothing as much as I possibly can.
And I bet that to you, that sounded like a joke.
Time: 22:24
"He was hoist by his own petard."
I learned this expression while reading one of my science-fiction, or possibly it was a fantasy book, but in any event, this expression applies to me in a couple of ways.
I have been attending DeVry since April 2005, and all during that time, I have told many people how lousy I am in math. Unfortunately, with the grades I have gotten, no one believes me. Especially after getting a B in Statistics the first time out. I have been told that I have this tendency to needlessly worry over whether or not I'll pass a class, and lo and behold, I pass. So people tell me I worry over nothing.
If they only knew that it's my constant worrying that gives me the impetus to work my ass off.
Now, it is highly possible that anyone who has read that last line might have found it funny, or at the very least, somewhat humorous. This is another instance in which I find myself "hoist".
I use humor as a defence mechanism. It's not really much of a conscious thing, but I've used it so often, that even when I'm serious about something, people think I'm joking, or I'm trying to be funny. Even when I tell them that I'm not joking, or that I'm not kidding, they still have this inkling that maybe I am trying to be funny. Sadly, I'm not.
Through my writing, I have learned that I have a certain cadence to my speech, and I have a tendency to use that cadence when I write. It is as a result of this speech cadence that no matter what I say, it seems to come out as a joke. I've tried changing it, I've tried to not be funny, but nothing seems to work.
So my only recourse is to say nothing as much as I possibly can.
And I bet that to you, that sounded like a joke.
Journal Entry #33: Bit Of A Rant
Date: December 2, 2007
Time: 00:11
Yes, I know, I'm writing this past Midnight. I had a bit of trouble with a possible virus. It happened while I was taking my Economics midterm. I was trying to find the answer to something and wound up accidentally downloading some software that looks for something called "Malware".
There are times, like now, when technology is more trouble than its worth. For every program or website that's helpful or informative, there's another that's of no use, or it's there simply to trap you into releasing a virus into your system, and thereby infect the systems of your friends and relations through your address book.
I've said this on many occasions to many different people and I'm saying it here:
If I had even half the talent and skill as even some of these hackers have, I would find a way to legitimately make money off of it. I would lease my services to whomever would pay me the most at any given time. Yeah, I know there would be people out there with better skills than I have, but who's to say I'm not that good?
You see, what galls me the most about these hackers is what they do with their skills and talents. They use them to annoy the rest of the world with their idiocy. They send out viruses and all manner of programs that will do nothing for anyone except ruin their computer systems and thereby cause them to lose their files, personal and otherwise.
The reason they do this is for the attention it brings to their sad, lonely little lives. They have nothing to do all day except be a pest to the rest of the world. Any, and every time I hear of a hacker, or spam artist, that gets their comeuppance, or better yet, time in jail, it brings a smile to my face. But, at the same time, it makes me sad that such a talented person had to screw themselves so badly.
Time: 00:11
Yes, I know, I'm writing this past Midnight. I had a bit of trouble with a possible virus. It happened while I was taking my Economics midterm. I was trying to find the answer to something and wound up accidentally downloading some software that looks for something called "Malware".
There are times, like now, when technology is more trouble than its worth. For every program or website that's helpful or informative, there's another that's of no use, or it's there simply to trap you into releasing a virus into your system, and thereby infect the systems of your friends and relations through your address book.
I've said this on many occasions to many different people and I'm saying it here:
If I had even half the talent and skill as even some of these hackers have, I would find a way to legitimately make money off of it. I would lease my services to whomever would pay me the most at any given time. Yeah, I know there would be people out there with better skills than I have, but who's to say I'm not that good?
You see, what galls me the most about these hackers is what they do with their skills and talents. They use them to annoy the rest of the world with their idiocy. They send out viruses and all manner of programs that will do nothing for anyone except ruin their computer systems and thereby cause them to lose their files, personal and otherwise.
The reason they do this is for the attention it brings to their sad, lonely little lives. They have nothing to do all day except be a pest to the rest of the world. Any, and every time I hear of a hacker, or spam artist, that gets their comeuppance, or better yet, time in jail, it brings a smile to my face. But, at the same time, it makes me sad that such a talented person had to screw themselves so badly.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Journal Entry #32: MY Song
Date: November 30, 2007
Time: 22:12
Back around 1977 or 1978, I was listening to the radio, during one of those time when I was allowed to do so, and back when AM Radio played music. It was the time of 77WABC and 66WNBC. This was a good thing as the radio I had at the time only received AM signals.
It was early one evening and this song came on. It was a purely instrumental piece, and it sounded so beautiful, I actually began to waltz around my bedroom. Unfortunately, the DJ never told what the title, or who the artist was. All I know is, that song made me feel so good, I was honestly happy, and even relaxed while it was on. But then, to make matters worse, it would be years before I ever heard it again.
Fast forward to 1983, and I'm living in Cottage 12 in Hawthorne Cedar Knolls School. My roommate is at home for the weekend, so I decided to listen to his radio. Yes, this one had FM, and this was back when WPAT was playing what they used to call "dentist office music". And yes, that song played again, and once again, I felt happy. Until the station broke for a commercial, and the DJ never mentioned the title or artist.
Cut to: My Grandmother's livingroom. I'm sitting, watching TV, and a commercial comes on, "Eric Roberts Plays the Piano Greats". Now this was not the Eric Roberts who is an actor and brother to Julia. This was a different Eric Roberts, who played the piano. (I know you can see where this is going, but let me get there in my own way.) So, I'm watching this commercial, well, staring at it really, and the announcer says "Eric Roberts plays 'Musicbox Dancer'", and I hear the strains of the one song in the entire world that can make me feel good, and I sprung up from the chair. I pointed at the screen and shouted "That's it! That's the song!"
But it would a few more years until I found out the name of the artist, Frank Mills, and it would be some time before I was able to get my hands on a copy.
But now, I have a 45 record that I was able to get through a co-worker, I have a cassette tape that has quite a few other tunes by the same artist, I have a CD with a newer version, and I have the CD edition of the cassette. I think I'm covered now.
And now I'm going to feel happy for while.
Bye now.
Time: 22:12
Back around 1977 or 1978, I was listening to the radio, during one of those time when I was allowed to do so, and back when AM Radio played music. It was the time of 77WABC and 66WNBC. This was a good thing as the radio I had at the time only received AM signals.
It was early one evening and this song came on. It was a purely instrumental piece, and it sounded so beautiful, I actually began to waltz around my bedroom. Unfortunately, the DJ never told what the title, or who the artist was. All I know is, that song made me feel so good, I was honestly happy, and even relaxed while it was on. But then, to make matters worse, it would be years before I ever heard it again.
Fast forward to 1983, and I'm living in Cottage 12 in Hawthorne Cedar Knolls School. My roommate is at home for the weekend, so I decided to listen to his radio. Yes, this one had FM, and this was back when WPAT was playing what they used to call "dentist office music". And yes, that song played again, and once again, I felt happy. Until the station broke for a commercial, and the DJ never mentioned the title or artist.
Cut to: My Grandmother's livingroom. I'm sitting, watching TV, and a commercial comes on, "Eric Roberts Plays the Piano Greats". Now this was not the Eric Roberts who is an actor and brother to Julia. This was a different Eric Roberts, who played the piano. (I know you can see where this is going, but let me get there in my own way.) So, I'm watching this commercial, well, staring at it really, and the announcer says "Eric Roberts plays 'Musicbox Dancer'", and I hear the strains of the one song in the entire world that can make me feel good, and I sprung up from the chair. I pointed at the screen and shouted "That's it! That's the song!"
But it would a few more years until I found out the name of the artist, Frank Mills, and it would be some time before I was able to get my hands on a copy.
But now, I have a 45 record that I was able to get through a co-worker, I have a cassette tape that has quite a few other tunes by the same artist, I have a CD with a newer version, and I have the CD edition of the cassette. I think I'm covered now.
And now I'm going to feel happy for while.
Bye now.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Journal Entry #31: More Than "Funny Books"
Date: November 29, 2007
Time: 22:51
Sometime ago, a friend recommended I read the graphic novel version of a series called "Sandman". He claimed I wouldn't be disappointed. I wasn't.
It was just about the most interesting series I'd ever read. It also introduced me to one of the finest authors I ever read, Neil Gaiman. He's written many short stories and a great many novels. There are two that are my absolute favorites, they are "Good Omens" and "Neverwhere".
"Good Omens" is best described like this, imagine 'Damien' from "The Omen", accidentally winding up the son of accountants, while an otherwise normal little boy, ends up in the hands of Satanists.
While "Neverwhere" takes you on a trip through a London no one usually sees.
But while the storylines that involved "Sandman" directly were interesting, there was one one story that I've since learned was, in part, true. Although I have to point out this little aside. There was a scene where the caretaker of the Sandman's castle, one Merv Pumkinhead, was asked to install a new wing in the library. He came in, placed a ladder against a wall, and, like a paperhanger putting up wallpaper, installed a new wing of the library.
But back to the somewhat true story.
I thought it had been made up as it was appearing in a comic book. But I did a little research, and I found out it was true. It's the story of the first, and only Emperor of the United States.
On September 17, 1859, Joshua A. Norton lost everything he had in an attempt to corner the rice market. It was also on that day that he declared himself, Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Mexico.
And while a good deal of information, including the bit I'm about to include here, can be found at this site, http://www.sfmuseum.org/hist1/norton.html I have to mention this bit because I find it to be extremely funny:
January 21, 1867 – An overzealous Patrol Special Officer, Armand Barbier, arrested His Majesty Norton I for involuntary treatment of a mental disorder and thereby created a major civic uproar. Police Chief Patrick Crowley apologized to His Majesty and ordered him released. Several scathing newspaper editorials followed the arrest. All police officers began to salute His Majesty when he passed them on the street.
Time: 22:51
Sometime ago, a friend recommended I read the graphic novel version of a series called "Sandman". He claimed I wouldn't be disappointed. I wasn't.
It was just about the most interesting series I'd ever read. It also introduced me to one of the finest authors I ever read, Neil Gaiman. He's written many short stories and a great many novels. There are two that are my absolute favorites, they are "Good Omens" and "Neverwhere".
"Good Omens" is best described like this, imagine 'Damien' from "The Omen", accidentally winding up the son of accountants, while an otherwise normal little boy, ends up in the hands of Satanists.
While "Neverwhere" takes you on a trip through a London no one usually sees.
But while the storylines that involved "Sandman" directly were interesting, there was one one story that I've since learned was, in part, true. Although I have to point out this little aside. There was a scene where the caretaker of the Sandman's castle, one Merv Pumkinhead, was asked to install a new wing in the library. He came in, placed a ladder against a wall, and, like a paperhanger putting up wallpaper, installed a new wing of the library.
But back to the somewhat true story.
I thought it had been made up as it was appearing in a comic book. But I did a little research, and I found out it was true. It's the story of the first, and only Emperor of the United States.
On September 17, 1859, Joshua A. Norton lost everything he had in an attempt to corner the rice market. It was also on that day that he declared himself, Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Mexico.
And while a good deal of information, including the bit I'm about to include here, can be found at this site, http://www.sfmuseum.org/hist1/norton.html I have to mention this bit because I find it to be extremely funny:
January 21, 1867 – An overzealous Patrol Special Officer, Armand Barbier, arrested His Majesty Norton I for involuntary treatment of a mental disorder and thereby created a major civic uproar. Police Chief Patrick Crowley apologized to His Majesty and ordered him released. Several scathing newspaper editorials followed the arrest. All police officers began to salute His Majesty when he passed them on the street.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Journal Entry #30: Fear
Date: November 28, 2007
Time: 23:33
I'm not a fan of Woody Allen, but he said something once that I tend to agree with. He said, "I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it by not dying."
Some semesters ago, I had to write a research paper for ENGL135. I got it written, and I used myself as a couple of examples. Oh, I wrote about fears and phobias.
I fear rejection, in fact, I have an almost paralyzing fear of it. I say "almost paralyzing fear" because up until I submitted one of my stories for publication, I had a "paralyzing fear" of rejection. There is a phrase people tend to throw about whenever someone is afraid to say something to someone else, for instance, asking your boss for a raise. The phrase is "What's the worst that could happen? So they say 'No'."
Um, excuse me, but, for someone who fears rejection to the extent that I do, being told 'No', is the worst that could happen. Being told 'No' is devastating to me. Even when I submitted my stories to be copyrighted, there was always the possibility that someone else could have written something similar enough for me to be rejected. Like my story entitled "The Family of Man", all while I was writing it, I kept thinking and saying to myself, "I've read this before." or "I know I've read this", or "I know I've seen this before."
And then, one day, I got an envelope from the US Copyright Office. It was thin enough for them to have mailed that story back to me. But when I opened it up, it turned out there was a slight problem with another submission. It seems I had gotten too technical when I listed what I had written and/or created in regards to the story.
I can hear you saying, "See? You were worried over nothing." It is not nothing, to me, it is everything. Now, sooner or later, I'll probably submit another story for publication, but it's going to take a while.
For anyone who might be interested in reading my research paper, here is the link,
http://www.geocities.com/lyoskowitz/My_Research_Paper.html
It is within that paper where you can read of my other fear.
Time: 23:33
I'm not a fan of Woody Allen, but he said something once that I tend to agree with. He said, "I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it by not dying."
Some semesters ago, I had to write a research paper for ENGL135. I got it written, and I used myself as a couple of examples. Oh, I wrote about fears and phobias.
I fear rejection, in fact, I have an almost paralyzing fear of it. I say "almost paralyzing fear" because up until I submitted one of my stories for publication, I had a "paralyzing fear" of rejection. There is a phrase people tend to throw about whenever someone is afraid to say something to someone else, for instance, asking your boss for a raise. The phrase is "What's the worst that could happen? So they say 'No'."
Um, excuse me, but, for someone who fears rejection to the extent that I do, being told 'No', is the worst that could happen. Being told 'No' is devastating to me. Even when I submitted my stories to be copyrighted, there was always the possibility that someone else could have written something similar enough for me to be rejected. Like my story entitled "The Family of Man", all while I was writing it, I kept thinking and saying to myself, "I've read this before." or "I know I've read this", or "I know I've seen this before."
And then, one day, I got an envelope from the US Copyright Office. It was thin enough for them to have mailed that story back to me. But when I opened it up, it turned out there was a slight problem with another submission. It seems I had gotten too technical when I listed what I had written and/or created in regards to the story.
I can hear you saying, "See? You were worried over nothing." It is not nothing, to me, it is everything. Now, sooner or later, I'll probably submit another story for publication, but it's going to take a while.
For anyone who might be interested in reading my research paper, here is the link,
http://www.geocities.com/lyoskowitz/My_Research_Paper.html
It is within that paper where you can read of my other fear.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Journal Entry #29: Television
Date: November 27, 2007
Time: 23:46
I didn't almost forget this time, I was kind of putting it off. For once, not only was I unsure of what to write, I wasn't too sure I wanted to write at all.
Like I said a couple of times already, I get really emotional around the holidays, and as such, I tend to feel what I call the “Woman get away from me ‘cause I can’t stand the sight of you” Blues. But I'm going to try and talk about something else in this entry.
I would like to talk about Television, and of the many programs that are my favorites.
There are comedies, dramas, which I guess you could ascribe to almost any program. It's the "sub-genre" that...
Oh forget it. I'll just talk about one show in particular right now, "The West Wing".
When I first heard that there was going to be a television series that took place in the White House, I thought to myself "A show about the White House? Aw man, it's gonna be crap!" And then, I found out that Martin Sheen was going to be playing the President, and I thought to myself, "Aw man, Martin Sheen as the President? It's gonna be full of political rhetoric!"
And then I caught a rerun of an episode on Bravo, and then I caught another episode. It was the second episode that got me hooked. Here's the scenario:
Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn (Rob Lowe) is appearing on an early morning talk show. As he is presenting the view of the Democrat, or the Liberal side, there must be equal time given to the Republicans, or the Conservative side. This is represented by a vivacious young woman named Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter).
The discussion begins and Sam is on a roll, but then the host, played by Ted McGinley asks Ms. Hayes for her opinion. She begins speaking and follows through by basically reading Sam the riot act. She then corrects him on an error in geography, he stated a town as being in Oregon when it was really in California. When they break for a commercial, Sam says, under his breath, "Please don't let anyone be watching." The scene then cuts to the interior of the White House and Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman comes barreling into Communications Director Toby Ziegler's office and says, "Toby, come quick, Sam's getting his ass kicked by a girl.", to which Toby turns to his assistant, Ginger, and says, "Ginger, get the popcorn." Cut to opening titles.
That scene, the little bit between Josh and Toby made me laugh, and was what got me hooked on the series.
When a character was killed in Season 3, I too, wanted to cry. When they recovered the President's youngest daughter at the beginning of Season 4, I was choked up, but cheering. But when John Spencer, who played White House Chief of Staff Leo McGarry, died of a heart attack in real life, I almost did cry. John Spencer made a lot of his career out of playing character roles, but as Leo, he shined.
There is moment between Josh and Leo from Season 2 that I would like to share. At the end of Season 1, shots were fired at the President and his staff as they left a "Town Hall" meeting. The President and Josh were hit, and Josh almost died. In the Christmas episode of Season 2, we learn that Josh is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and talks with a psychiatrist, played by Adam Arkin. Leo brings him in when Josh yells at the President, IN THE OVAL OFFICE.
Later, after the session is over, Josh sees that Leo had been waiting for him. When Josh suggests that he go and apologize to the President, in hopes of keeping his job, Leo tells him a story.
This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey, you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole. Can you help me out?" The priest writes a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can you help me Out" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you nuts? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before - and I know the way out."
Leo then tells Josh, "As long as I have a job, you have a job."
Looking back, I don't think anyone else could have delivered those lines in quite the same way as John Spencer.
Time: 23:46
I didn't almost forget this time, I was kind of putting it off. For once, not only was I unsure of what to write, I wasn't too sure I wanted to write at all.
Like I said a couple of times already, I get really emotional around the holidays, and as such, I tend to feel what I call the “Woman get away from me ‘cause I can’t stand the sight of you” Blues. But I'm going to try and talk about something else in this entry.
I would like to talk about Television, and of the many programs that are my favorites.
There are comedies, dramas, which I guess you could ascribe to almost any program. It's the "sub-genre" that...
Oh forget it. I'll just talk about one show in particular right now, "The West Wing".
When I first heard that there was going to be a television series that took place in the White House, I thought to myself "A show about the White House? Aw man, it's gonna be crap!" And then, I found out that Martin Sheen was going to be playing the President, and I thought to myself, "Aw man, Martin Sheen as the President? It's gonna be full of political rhetoric!"
And then I caught a rerun of an episode on Bravo, and then I caught another episode. It was the second episode that got me hooked. Here's the scenario:
Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn (Rob Lowe) is appearing on an early morning talk show. As he is presenting the view of the Democrat, or the Liberal side, there must be equal time given to the Republicans, or the Conservative side. This is represented by a vivacious young woman named Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter).
The discussion begins and Sam is on a roll, but then the host, played by Ted McGinley asks Ms. Hayes for her opinion. She begins speaking and follows through by basically reading Sam the riot act. She then corrects him on an error in geography, he stated a town as being in Oregon when it was really in California. When they break for a commercial, Sam says, under his breath, "Please don't let anyone be watching." The scene then cuts to the interior of the White House and Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman comes barreling into Communications Director Toby Ziegler's office and says, "Toby, come quick, Sam's getting his ass kicked by a girl.", to which Toby turns to his assistant, Ginger, and says, "Ginger, get the popcorn." Cut to opening titles.
That scene, the little bit between Josh and Toby made me laugh, and was what got me hooked on the series.
When a character was killed in Season 3, I too, wanted to cry. When they recovered the President's youngest daughter at the beginning of Season 4, I was choked up, but cheering. But when John Spencer, who played White House Chief of Staff Leo McGarry, died of a heart attack in real life, I almost did cry. John Spencer made a lot of his career out of playing character roles, but as Leo, he shined.
There is moment between Josh and Leo from Season 2 that I would like to share. At the end of Season 1, shots were fired at the President and his staff as they left a "Town Hall" meeting. The President and Josh were hit, and Josh almost died. In the Christmas episode of Season 2, we learn that Josh is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and talks with a psychiatrist, played by Adam Arkin. Leo brings him in when Josh yells at the President, IN THE OVAL OFFICE.
Later, after the session is over, Josh sees that Leo had been waiting for him. When Josh suggests that he go and apologize to the President, in hopes of keeping his job, Leo tells him a story.
This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey, you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole. Can you help me out?" The priest writes a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can you help me Out" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you nuts? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before - and I know the way out."
Leo then tells Josh, "As long as I have a job, you have a job."
Looking back, I don't think anyone else could have delivered those lines in quite the same way as John Spencer.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Journal Entry #28: Sentimentality
Date: November 26, 2007
Time: 22:45
I mentioned in an earlier post that holidays tend to make me a bit more emotional than usual. So I signed on to make an entry tonight, and there was something on the first page about uploading videos from YouTube. Hmm, let’s see, I’m a bit of an emotional wreck during the holidays, and YouTube has all manner of videos that are likely to set me off. Oh golly, whatever shall I do?
I’ve so far bookmarked “Do They Know It’s Christmas”, “We Are The World”, “Tears Are Not Enough”, which is by a group of Canadian singers, and just now, “Sun City” by Artists United Against Apartheid. Sometimes, you get a wave of nostalgia when you see videos from over 20 years ago, but what’s really interesting about these videos is who you see taking part and singing. People like Daryl Hannah, but when you realize she was going with Jackson Browne at the time then it’s not so difficult to see.
But the really interesting bit, the really, really bizarre moment occurred when I got more choked up watching and listening to the “Sun City” video, than I did from watching the other three. It just goes to show you, the least little thing can affect you in ways you never dream of.
Time: 22:45
I mentioned in an earlier post that holidays tend to make me a bit more emotional than usual. So I signed on to make an entry tonight, and there was something on the first page about uploading videos from YouTube. Hmm, let’s see, I’m a bit of an emotional wreck during the holidays, and YouTube has all manner of videos that are likely to set me off. Oh golly, whatever shall I do?
I’ve so far bookmarked “Do They Know It’s Christmas”, “We Are The World”, “Tears Are Not Enough”, which is by a group of Canadian singers, and just now, “Sun City” by Artists United Against Apartheid. Sometimes, you get a wave of nostalgia when you see videos from over 20 years ago, but what’s really interesting about these videos is who you see taking part and singing. People like Daryl Hannah, but when you realize she was going with Jackson Browne at the time then it’s not so difficult to see.
But the really interesting bit, the really, really bizarre moment occurred when I got more choked up watching and listening to the “Sun City” video, than I did from watching the other three. It just goes to show you, the least little thing can affect you in ways you never dream of.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Journal Entry #27: Super Powers
Date: November 25, 2007
Time: 23:12
When I was growing up, on the rare occasion I was allowed to go out and play, one of the games we played was “Superheroes”, and no matter what, everyone got angry with me when I wanted to play “Superman”. One of the reasons they got so peeved is they didn’t think of it first. And the other reason? There was nothing the “bad guys” could do to him to hurt him. Thinking back on it, I was amazed that no one ever thought to use Kryptonite. Could it have been sheer forgetfulness on their part, or did they think “I” would find some way to get away from it too soon to make the game fun?
In any event, long after that, I’d always wanted Superman’s powers. To be able to fly, and not only to anywhere on Earth, but to anywhere in the galaxy, or even the universe. To be able to look up at the stars, and see planets orbiting those stars. Yeah, I know, “X-Ray Vision”, woo-hoo. But, believe it or not, that novelty would wear off pretty quickly, because look at everything else there is to see, especially when you have microscopic vision. You could see the building blocks of the universe, and then, back to telescopic vision, and see what they built.
Now, there are times, like even now while I’m writing this, that I would like to have certain kinds of powers. For instance, as much as I dislike Marvel Comics, they used to have a character that had a rather unique power. His name was Cypher, and he could read, write, and understand, any written language that ever existed. His ability to do that stemmed from the fact that he was part of that group that most of the world (in Marvel) knows as a mutant. But, as that was the only mutant ability he had, and as he was only a “fair” hand-to-hand combatant, he lost his life during an adventure with a group that called themselves, “The New Mutants”. Clever name, huh? Regardless, of that, there are times, when I think it would be nice to have that particular little power.
But then, a thought occurs to me. I think about what my life was like when I was growing up. I was extremely short, in comparison to everyone else, and I knew sod all about defending myself. Throughout my life, my mother instilled one main idea into our heads, “Speak your mind. Never be afraid to speak your mind.” This from a woman, who, upon being told she had no talent for embroidery, stopped doing it for something like 30 years. Unfortunately, she never said anything about tact, or diplomacy.
For a long while, we lived in a not-so-nice neighborhood. We lived in one of the many city projects that dot the borough of Brooklyn. If it was too cold for my mother to sit outside, I couldn’t go out and play. So on those days, I was stuck in the house. To this day, I hate Sundays for the simple reason that there is absolutely NOTHING on television. So on the Sundays I was stuck in the house, all I was left with was reading. Therefore, it’s my mother’s fault for me having an Eighth grade reading average in the Fourth grade. Well, that, and the fact I have a very good memory.
Speaking of my very good memory, I remember a great deal of wrong that was dealt to me while I was growing up. Being picked on for no other reason than to get a reaction from me, or just because the other guy was bigger. With that in mind, and with my mother’s side of the family’s penchant for holding a grudge, I came up with a nifty little power of my own. I would be able to make someone else feel everything I have ever gone through in my entire life so far, in the space of thirty seconds. Think about it, at this moment, I am 42 years old, and I would make another person feel everything emotion, every feeling I have had every moment of my life, from birth until now, and all in a time span of 30 seconds.
There would, of course, be one or two drawbacks. One, would be that I would have to be a short distance from them, say a maximum of 30 feet, and there is the possibility of being recognized by someone from my past, of indeed that’s who I was going after, but experience with friends, or at least one friend, has shown me that people I knew from more than 20 years ago are hard-pressed to remember me at first glance. But of course, I would never let them try and recognize me in the first place, so I’m probably pretty safe in that regard.
What’s that you say? “What’s the other drawback?” Well, it is very likely, that such an onslaught of emotions, in that space of time, with no real defense either against it, or in dealing with it, the person the force was aimed at would most likely die. Or, at the very least, turn into either a catatonic vegetable, or a gibbering idiot. Now I’d vote for gibbering idiot, but with some of the morons who picked on me, who’d know the difference?
Time: 23:12
When I was growing up, on the rare occasion I was allowed to go out and play, one of the games we played was “Superheroes”, and no matter what, everyone got angry with me when I wanted to play “Superman”. One of the reasons they got so peeved is they didn’t think of it first. And the other reason? There was nothing the “bad guys” could do to him to hurt him. Thinking back on it, I was amazed that no one ever thought to use Kryptonite. Could it have been sheer forgetfulness on their part, or did they think “I” would find some way to get away from it too soon to make the game fun?
In any event, long after that, I’d always wanted Superman’s powers. To be able to fly, and not only to anywhere on Earth, but to anywhere in the galaxy, or even the universe. To be able to look up at the stars, and see planets orbiting those stars. Yeah, I know, “X-Ray Vision”, woo-hoo. But, believe it or not, that novelty would wear off pretty quickly, because look at everything else there is to see, especially when you have microscopic vision. You could see the building blocks of the universe, and then, back to telescopic vision, and see what they built.
Now, there are times, like even now while I’m writing this, that I would like to have certain kinds of powers. For instance, as much as I dislike Marvel Comics, they used to have a character that had a rather unique power. His name was Cypher, and he could read, write, and understand, any written language that ever existed. His ability to do that stemmed from the fact that he was part of that group that most of the world (in Marvel) knows as a mutant. But, as that was the only mutant ability he had, and as he was only a “fair” hand-to-hand combatant, he lost his life during an adventure with a group that called themselves, “The New Mutants”. Clever name, huh? Regardless, of that, there are times, when I think it would be nice to have that particular little power.
But then, a thought occurs to me. I think about what my life was like when I was growing up. I was extremely short, in comparison to everyone else, and I knew sod all about defending myself. Throughout my life, my mother instilled one main idea into our heads, “Speak your mind. Never be afraid to speak your mind.” This from a woman, who, upon being told she had no talent for embroidery, stopped doing it for something like 30 years. Unfortunately, she never said anything about tact, or diplomacy.
For a long while, we lived in a not-so-nice neighborhood. We lived in one of the many city projects that dot the borough of Brooklyn. If it was too cold for my mother to sit outside, I couldn’t go out and play. So on those days, I was stuck in the house. To this day, I hate Sundays for the simple reason that there is absolutely NOTHING on television. So on the Sundays I was stuck in the house, all I was left with was reading. Therefore, it’s my mother’s fault for me having an Eighth grade reading average in the Fourth grade. Well, that, and the fact I have a very good memory.
Speaking of my very good memory, I remember a great deal of wrong that was dealt to me while I was growing up. Being picked on for no other reason than to get a reaction from me, or just because the other guy was bigger. With that in mind, and with my mother’s side of the family’s penchant for holding a grudge, I came up with a nifty little power of my own. I would be able to make someone else feel everything I have ever gone through in my entire life so far, in the space of thirty seconds. Think about it, at this moment, I am 42 years old, and I would make another person feel everything emotion, every feeling I have had every moment of my life, from birth until now, and all in a time span of 30 seconds.
There would, of course, be one or two drawbacks. One, would be that I would have to be a short distance from them, say a maximum of 30 feet, and there is the possibility of being recognized by someone from my past, of indeed that’s who I was going after, but experience with friends, or at least one friend, has shown me that people I knew from more than 20 years ago are hard-pressed to remember me at first glance. But of course, I would never let them try and recognize me in the first place, so I’m probably pretty safe in that regard.
What’s that you say? “What’s the other drawback?” Well, it is very likely, that such an onslaught of emotions, in that space of time, with no real defense either against it, or in dealing with it, the person the force was aimed at would most likely die. Or, at the very least, turn into either a catatonic vegetable, or a gibbering idiot. Now I’d vote for gibbering idiot, but with some of the morons who picked on me, who’d know the difference?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Journal Entry #26: Pointlessness
Date: November 24, 2007
Time: 23:45
Sometimes I wonder, “What’s the point of it all?” I mean really, what is the point? What’s it all for? Why am I spending thousands of dollars that I’ll be paying off for the rest of eternity? What’s at the end of all this, really, seriously? The big problem I have with a lot of this, as I explained before is, I don’t know what I want to do!
I only seem to know what I don’t want. I don’t want to own, operate, start, or manage a business. I don’t want to be an accountant, or a financial analyst. I don’t want to be a programmer; I don’t want to be a computer system troubleshooter, if there is such a thing. In short, what the hell am I doing here if I don’t like a great deal of the classes I have to take for a degree that will probably do me no good if I have to take yet another job I DON’T WANT?!?
Do I have to beg? Really, do I have to beg and plead for someone to give me some sort of a test that will finally tap into my creative side? None of this crap about two trains traveling at different speeds, no math questions, nothing to do with “the purest form of logic”. Show me some pictures and ask me to write a story, or give me an idea for a story. In other words, let me write, it seems to be the only thing I’m happy with doing. But no, none of these people will let me.
So I ask again, what's the point?
Time: 23:45
Sometimes I wonder, “What’s the point of it all?” I mean really, what is the point? What’s it all for? Why am I spending thousands of dollars that I’ll be paying off for the rest of eternity? What’s at the end of all this, really, seriously? The big problem I have with a lot of this, as I explained before is, I don’t know what I want to do!
I only seem to know what I don’t want. I don’t want to own, operate, start, or manage a business. I don’t want to be an accountant, or a financial analyst. I don’t want to be a programmer; I don’t want to be a computer system troubleshooter, if there is such a thing. In short, what the hell am I doing here if I don’t like a great deal of the classes I have to take for a degree that will probably do me no good if I have to take yet another job I DON’T WANT?!?
Do I have to beg? Really, do I have to beg and plead for someone to give me some sort of a test that will finally tap into my creative side? None of this crap about two trains traveling at different speeds, no math questions, nothing to do with “the purest form of logic”. Show me some pictures and ask me to write a story, or give me an idea for a story. In other words, let me write, it seems to be the only thing I’m happy with doing. But no, none of these people will let me.
So I ask again, what's the point?
Friday, November 23, 2007
Journal Entry #25: Holiday Funk
Date: November 23, 2007
Time: 22:18
Before the “experts” came up with a fancy-sounding name for it, “Seasonal Affective Disorder” or “SAD”, people got the blues around the holidays. Sometime they would go into a deep funk that in some instances, they don’t get out of until around 2 weeks after the start of Spring.
I get out of it just in time for the beginning of Summer.
Now, it’s easy to understand if someone gets misty-eyed, or choked up when they hear an emotionally charged Christmas song, say “Little Drummer Boy”, or “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, but can anyone explain to me why someone would get teary-eyed when they hear “Step Into Christmas” by Elton John? I mean, just look at the lyrics.
I get out of it just in time for the beginning of Summer.
Now, it’s easy to understand if someone gets misty-eyed, or choked up when they hear an emotionally charged Christmas song, say “Little Drummer Boy”, or “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, but can anyone explain to me why someone would get teary-eyed when they hear “Step Into Christmas” by Elton John? I mean, just look at the lyrics.
Welcome to my Christmas song
I'd like to thank you for the year
So I'm sending you this Christmas card
To say it's nice to have you here
I'd like to sing about all the things
Your eyes and mind can see
So hop aboard the turntable
Oh step into Christmas with me
Step into Christmas
Let's join together
We can watch the snow fall forever and ever
Eat, drink and be merry
Come along with me
Step into Christmas
The admission's free
Take care in all you do next year
And keep smiling through the days
If we can help to entertain you
Oh we will find the ways
So merry Christmas one and all
There's no place I'd rather be
Than asking you if you'd oblige
Stepping into Christmas with me
I'd like to thank you for the year
So I'm sending you this Christmas card
To say it's nice to have you here
I'd like to sing about all the things
Your eyes and mind can see
So hop aboard the turntable
Oh step into Christmas with me
Step into Christmas
Let's join together
We can watch the snow fall forever and ever
Eat, drink and be merry
Come along with me
Step into Christmas
The admission's free
Take care in all you do next year
And keep smiling through the days
If we can help to entertain you
Oh we will find the ways
So merry Christmas one and all
There's no place I'd rather be
Than asking you if you'd oblige
Stepping into Christmas with me
Now, do you see anything in those lyrics that could evoke a wave of sadness? Neither do I, and yet, this morning, that’s exactly what happened to me. The song came on, and I started getting all choked up. The last time that that happened was Christmastime 2001. So okay, maybe at that time, when it didn’t really feel like Christmas, a cheery song like that one isn’t going to make things feel any better, it might just makes things worse by trying to evoke happiness where there is only sadness and misery.
However, after that, any time I heard the song, I had no problem. There were no tears, no choking up, nothing. Why now? Why after all that time am I affected this way? Maybe if I wasn’t so stressed by my having to have gone back to school, or if I had a job that I tolerated more than the one I have now, or even the one I had before.
Maybe if I knew what it was like to be honestly and truly happy, and to have that feeling last for more than a few minutes. To be able to sustain feeling happy for a lot longer than I have been feeling it lately, which, to tell the truth, is never.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Journal Entry #24: Time Out/Time Off
Date: November 22, 2007
Time: 21:38
I’ll get back to “If We Ran Marvel” another time, right now, I need a break. I need time off from my job; I need time off from DeVry. I need to not only get away from both places, but I need time to clear my head. What I believe I need is about a month away. Yes, I know, I have to come back, but it’s still a whole month, give or take a few hours, away from that which makes me crazy.
What I need is to have two weeks out of the city, out of the state, and maybe even out of the 48 continuous United States, and both Alaska and Hawaii are out, and stay in some cabin somewhere. Just me, a cabin, a bunch of books to read, and NOTHING ELSE! Someone will drop me off with enough supplies to keep me from starving for two weeks, and at the end of two weeks, that person will pick me up and drop me off at the airport, or bus station, or train station, whichever one is available. Then, for the next two weeks, I will spend that time re-acclimating myself to the city.
But just think about the first two weeks. No people, no worries about sub-contractors not doing their job, not having to deal with any “Authority”, whether it’s the Port Authority or the School Construction Authority. Not getting swamped with enough work to keep 5 accounting clerks happier than a pig in a waller. Imagine, no worries about tests, or mid-terms, or finals. No worries about whether you should take more classes for the “B” Session, or any sessions for that matter. To just be alone and not having to deal with anything for two whole weeks.
To me, that sounds like sheer heavenly bliss.
Time: 21:38
I’ll get back to “If We Ran Marvel” another time, right now, I need a break. I need time off from my job; I need time off from DeVry. I need to not only get away from both places, but I need time to clear my head. What I believe I need is about a month away. Yes, I know, I have to come back, but it’s still a whole month, give or take a few hours, away from that which makes me crazy.
What I need is to have two weeks out of the city, out of the state, and maybe even out of the 48 continuous United States, and both Alaska and Hawaii are out, and stay in some cabin somewhere. Just me, a cabin, a bunch of books to read, and NOTHING ELSE! Someone will drop me off with enough supplies to keep me from starving for two weeks, and at the end of two weeks, that person will pick me up and drop me off at the airport, or bus station, or train station, whichever one is available. Then, for the next two weeks, I will spend that time re-acclimating myself to the city.
But just think about the first two weeks. No people, no worries about sub-contractors not doing their job, not having to deal with any “Authority”, whether it’s the Port Authority or the School Construction Authority. Not getting swamped with enough work to keep 5 accounting clerks happier than a pig in a waller. Imagine, no worries about tests, or mid-terms, or finals. No worries about whether you should take more classes for the “B” Session, or any sessions for that matter. To just be alone and not having to deal with anything for two whole weeks.
To me, that sounds like sheer heavenly bliss.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Journal Entry #23: Ramblings
Date: November 21, 2007
Time: 23:28
Oops, this is the second time I almost forgot about this. Well, I have said I’ve been a bit addled lately. The holidays tend to do that to me, along with all the rest that’s going on in my head at the moment. Being that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I’m feeling very unhappy over the fact that I can’t be in Chicago. As I said before, I’m a Doctor Who fan and there’s a Doctor Who convention in that takes place over the Thanksgiving weekend in Chicago. Back in the 90s, it was a science-fiction convention, with actors and people who were connected with Doctor Who at the forefront of the convention.
The convention was called “Visions” and it was run by an organization that called itself “Her Majesty’s Entertainment”. They ran from 1990, until 1998. Then, in 2000, a man named Gene Smith, who owns a store called Alien Entertainment, picked up the torch and began staging conventions. However, these conventions narrowed the guest list and stayed with Doctor Who actors, actresses, and other production related people.
I had the opportunity to attend the 2003 convention, which held great significance for me for a few reasons. Reason 1 was that it was the 40th Anniversary of the start of the programme. Reason 2, was that after I attended that convention, I wouldn’t be able to attend any more until I found a job that would pay me enough to be able to afford to go, and give me enough vacation time to go. Reason 3, was that it gave me a chance to meet another actor who had portrayed the Doctor a second time, Reason 4, one of the guests, character actor Michael Sheard, died a few months later, but I not only got a chance to meet and talk with him, but I have all of his books personally autographed, and finally, Reason number 5.
All of the actors/guests laughed at something I said.
The night before the convention actually starts; there is a little gathering for all attendees who spend a little extra to attend this little party. So, I get to the room where the party is being held, and I find a table and sit down, and they all come over and sit at my table. I look up at Michael Sheard and I sort of recognize him. I mention that I think I know him from somewhere, and he tells me one of the Doctor Who stories he was featured in. It is then that I remember him from an episode called “Remembrance of the Daleks”. He portrayed the headmaster of the Coal Hill School, and the unwitting tool of the Imperial Dalek faction. He attacked my favorite companion Ace, by jamming his knee into her stomach. She then retaliated by kneeing him in the happy sack.
As we discussed this, he mentioned that he had spoken with the actress who portrayed Ace, Sophie Aldred, and he made note of the fact that “she sounded rather subdued.” to which Frazer Hines, who use to portray companion Jamie McCrimmon asked how many children Ms. Aldred has at present, to which the answer was two. To which I replied, “That’s enough to subdue anybody!”
And everyone laughed at my little joke.
I smiled.
Time: 23:28
Oops, this is the second time I almost forgot about this. Well, I have said I’ve been a bit addled lately. The holidays tend to do that to me, along with all the rest that’s going on in my head at the moment. Being that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I’m feeling very unhappy over the fact that I can’t be in Chicago. As I said before, I’m a Doctor Who fan and there’s a Doctor Who convention in that takes place over the Thanksgiving weekend in Chicago. Back in the 90s, it was a science-fiction convention, with actors and people who were connected with Doctor Who at the forefront of the convention.
The convention was called “Visions” and it was run by an organization that called itself “Her Majesty’s Entertainment”. They ran from 1990, until 1998. Then, in 2000, a man named Gene Smith, who owns a store called Alien Entertainment, picked up the torch and began staging conventions. However, these conventions narrowed the guest list and stayed with Doctor Who actors, actresses, and other production related people.
I had the opportunity to attend the 2003 convention, which held great significance for me for a few reasons. Reason 1 was that it was the 40th Anniversary of the start of the programme. Reason 2, was that after I attended that convention, I wouldn’t be able to attend any more until I found a job that would pay me enough to be able to afford to go, and give me enough vacation time to go. Reason 3, was that it gave me a chance to meet another actor who had portrayed the Doctor a second time, Reason 4, one of the guests, character actor Michael Sheard, died a few months later, but I not only got a chance to meet and talk with him, but I have all of his books personally autographed, and finally, Reason number 5.
All of the actors/guests laughed at something I said.
The night before the convention actually starts; there is a little gathering for all attendees who spend a little extra to attend this little party. So, I get to the room where the party is being held, and I find a table and sit down, and they all come over and sit at my table. I look up at Michael Sheard and I sort of recognize him. I mention that I think I know him from somewhere, and he tells me one of the Doctor Who stories he was featured in. It is then that I remember him from an episode called “Remembrance of the Daleks”. He portrayed the headmaster of the Coal Hill School, and the unwitting tool of the Imperial Dalek faction. He attacked my favorite companion Ace, by jamming his knee into her stomach. She then retaliated by kneeing him in the happy sack.
As we discussed this, he mentioned that he had spoken with the actress who portrayed Ace, Sophie Aldred, and he made note of the fact that “she sounded rather subdued.” to which Frazer Hines, who use to portray companion Jamie McCrimmon asked how many children Ms. Aldred has at present, to which the answer was two. To which I replied, “That’s enough to subdue anybody!”
And everyone laughed at my little joke.
I smiled.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Journal Entry #22: If We Ran Marvel Part II
Date: November 20, 2007
Time: 22:08
One of the biggest changes in the Marvel Universe that I foresee causing all sorts of arguments, besides what we have planned for the X-Men, is what to do with what can be considered the premiere group of the Marvel Universe, “The Fantastic Four”.
As most readers are aware, the Fantastic Four was created when an experimental rocket ship, built by Reed Richards, piloted by Benjamin Grimm, and crewed by siblings Susan and Johnny Storm, flew through the Van Allen radiation belt, and the passengers of the rocket were bombarded by cosmic radiation. The ship crashed, and all four were found to possess strange powers. Reed Richards had the ability to stretch himself in a variety of ways; Susan Storm gained the ability to turn invisible, project invisible shields and invisible projectiles, Susan’s brother Johnny gained the ability to turn into a “human torch”, and Ben Grimm became super strong when his body was transformed and became covered with a coating of orange rocks.
Okay, most of that is not going to be changed. What will be changed, however, are two aspects of their origin, and where their headquarters are located. Okay, first thing: Instead of trying to “beat the Russians”, which was the “in” thing to do at the time (It was the early ‘60s), we propose that Reed Richards has developed a new kind of radiation shield, and wanted to test it. He even went as far as to design and build his own craft with which to do this.
The second thing we would change is the reason the ship got hit by so much radiation in the first place. We decided on this: Reed and Ben are all set to go into space, everything that can possibly be accounted for has been accounted, but there is one thing that Reed never planned on occurring. The night before the launch, Susan and Johnny stow away. The added weight causes the ship to veer off-course, and enter a part of the Van Allen belt that has a higher level of radiation than where they were supposed to go. Now, you might ask, “But why didn’t Reed install a stronger shield?”, and the answer to that is, “As this was a test, Reed decided on a lower level shield as they were supposed to be traveling through an area of lower level radiation.” And now, for the other thing to be changed: The location of their headquarters. Instead of putting them in this enormous building in midtown Manhattan, and thereby be a target for every invading Galactus, Skrull, and Annihilus, I propose to put them in Brooklyn. The reason for Brooklyn instead of possibly Queens, or even Staten Island or the Bronx, is because Peter Parker has Queens covered. The Bronx does not have the access I wish to give them, and Staten Island is just out of the question.
Anyway, where I would like for them to be located is in Brooklyn Heights, as close to the docks on the East River as possible. The reason for that is their lab, storage areas, and launch bays can be in and under a large warehouse on the docks themselves. This will allow the “Pogo Plane”, the “FantastiCar”, and whatever other vehicles they use to have a subterranean and/or submerged launch. But the main reason to put them in Brooklyn Heights is that it is a really nice area. It is close to many forms of transportation, and Ben Grimm would feel a little at home seeing as Fulton Street is a short walk from where their house would be. By the way, the house would be specially designed by Reed Richards, with a special transport tube to allow them to travel to and from their “warehouse” with ease.
The transport tube uses magnetism in such a way that the vehicle that travels along the tube reaches extremely high speeds. This travel tube is one of Reed’s inventions. It is used by the Fantastic Four themselves, Captain America and the Avengers, and the X-Men. Since Captain America uses it, it is safe to assume that it has been purchased, or at least leased by the U.S. government. However, although it was bought or leased by the government, Reed, Ben, Johnny, and Sue are the only ones who are qualified to repair it if anything goes wrong. This goes for all of Reed’s inventions that are purchased, and/or leased by governments and businesses. This is because the technology is proprietary, and as such, will self-destruct if anyone but the members of the Fantastic Four tampers with it.
Time: 22:08
One of the biggest changes in the Marvel Universe that I foresee causing all sorts of arguments, besides what we have planned for the X-Men, is what to do with what can be considered the premiere group of the Marvel Universe, “The Fantastic Four”.
As most readers are aware, the Fantastic Four was created when an experimental rocket ship, built by Reed Richards, piloted by Benjamin Grimm, and crewed by siblings Susan and Johnny Storm, flew through the Van Allen radiation belt, and the passengers of the rocket were bombarded by cosmic radiation. The ship crashed, and all four were found to possess strange powers. Reed Richards had the ability to stretch himself in a variety of ways; Susan Storm gained the ability to turn invisible, project invisible shields and invisible projectiles, Susan’s brother Johnny gained the ability to turn into a “human torch”, and Ben Grimm became super strong when his body was transformed and became covered with a coating of orange rocks.
Okay, most of that is not going to be changed. What will be changed, however, are two aspects of their origin, and where their headquarters are located. Okay, first thing: Instead of trying to “beat the Russians”, which was the “in” thing to do at the time (It was the early ‘60s), we propose that Reed Richards has developed a new kind of radiation shield, and wanted to test it. He even went as far as to design and build his own craft with which to do this.
The second thing we would change is the reason the ship got hit by so much radiation in the first place. We decided on this: Reed and Ben are all set to go into space, everything that can possibly be accounted for has been accounted, but there is one thing that Reed never planned on occurring. The night before the launch, Susan and Johnny stow away. The added weight causes the ship to veer off-course, and enter a part of the Van Allen belt that has a higher level of radiation than where they were supposed to go. Now, you might ask, “But why didn’t Reed install a stronger shield?”, and the answer to that is, “As this was a test, Reed decided on a lower level shield as they were supposed to be traveling through an area of lower level radiation.” And now, for the other thing to be changed: The location of their headquarters. Instead of putting them in this enormous building in midtown Manhattan, and thereby be a target for every invading Galactus, Skrull, and Annihilus, I propose to put them in Brooklyn. The reason for Brooklyn instead of possibly Queens, or even Staten Island or the Bronx, is because Peter Parker has Queens covered. The Bronx does not have the access I wish to give them, and Staten Island is just out of the question.
Anyway, where I would like for them to be located is in Brooklyn Heights, as close to the docks on the East River as possible. The reason for that is their lab, storage areas, and launch bays can be in and under a large warehouse on the docks themselves. This will allow the “Pogo Plane”, the “FantastiCar”, and whatever other vehicles they use to have a subterranean and/or submerged launch. But the main reason to put them in Brooklyn Heights is that it is a really nice area. It is close to many forms of transportation, and Ben Grimm would feel a little at home seeing as Fulton Street is a short walk from where their house would be. By the way, the house would be specially designed by Reed Richards, with a special transport tube to allow them to travel to and from their “warehouse” with ease.
The transport tube uses magnetism in such a way that the vehicle that travels along the tube reaches extremely high speeds. This travel tube is one of Reed’s inventions. It is used by the Fantastic Four themselves, Captain America and the Avengers, and the X-Men. Since Captain America uses it, it is safe to assume that it has been purchased, or at least leased by the U.S. government. However, although it was bought or leased by the government, Reed, Ben, Johnny, and Sue are the only ones who are qualified to repair it if anything goes wrong. This goes for all of Reed’s inventions that are purchased, and/or leased by governments and businesses. This is because the technology is proprietary, and as such, will self-destruct if anyone but the members of the Fantastic Four tampers with it.
The character of Iron Man will be next.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Journal Entry #21: If We Ran Marvel
Date: November 19, 2007
Time: 23:16
Whenever me and my friend Ray get together, either on the phone or in person, our conversation usually turns to comic books, and then, invariably turns to what we would do to MARVEL Comics to make it better. You see, over the years, the powers-that-be at Marvel have been slowly and systematically ruining all of their titles.
So what Ray and I came up with was something of a DC Comics-like “Crisis on Infinite Earths” type of storyline, and then, we clean house. What follows is a bit of that housecleaning.
The first thing to be done is to separate all of the heroes. There are just too damn many of them operating in New York City. It has been reported that the basic reason for all of the heroes being in New York City is because many, if not most, of the writers and creators lived in New York City. All right, even though Steve Rogers, who would one day, grow up to be the man the world knows as Captain America, is alleged to come from New York City’s Lower East Side, or possibly even the area known as Hell’s Kitchen, we will let him remain to have come from either of those areas. It gives him character. However, we propose that his base of operations is to be Washington, D.C. He is headquartered at what is known as the “Old Executive Office Building”, or, as it is known by others, the “OEOB”. He is answerable to the White House Chief of Staff, and to the President of the United States.
With the previous paragraph in mind, let us briefly move on to The Avengers. One of the many things that are wrong with the Avengers is the same thing that is wrong with the X-Men; there are too many of them. While some may feel that having a large team with which to work is fine thing, sometimes less is more. But what we propose here is that there is to be one leader, and that is Captain America. The way it would work is like this.
The Avengers are now brought together by need. There are to be no regular members. As there are no regular members, there is no longer any need for meetings, and because there are no meetings, there is no need for a headquarters. Allow me to explain. An incident occurs that requires more than one hero; Captain America goes from his office in the OEOB to a special room in the Pentagon. He travels by means of a superspeed underground rail system. He then enters the situation into a computer. The computer analyzes the situation and calls up the names of those heroes, and heroines, which are the best ones suited for the job at hand. Now, one might ask “What if that person isn’t available?” Well, the answer is, “Cap will just have to find someone else.” This opens up all sorts of possibilities in that the available person just might not like Captain America.
Take for instance, the resident archer extraordinaire Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton. It could be that Hawkeye was on a previous mission with Cap and the rest of whomever was called, and something happened that Hawkeye did not like, and for which, Cap was ultimately responsible, or vice versa. So say another occasion arises that calls for an expert in archery. Hawkeye could say he does not want to get into another situation like before, but naturally, Cap will appeal to Hawkeye’s sense of duty, and thereby make him join up. Which of course means it may not work the next time he gets called. Did I make that clear enough? I sure hope so, because I don’t think I could go through it again.
So, getting back to what I was saying at the beginning of all this, The Avengers, being that they have a rotating membership, might not always come back with the same people they left with. In short, one, or several members of the team, may die. And they will stay dead.
Now that’s not to say that every month a major character is in danger of being killed, there are some B-Level heroes that aren’t always used, and they seem to be more resilient than cockroaches. In any event, this new Avengers can be considered almost a duplicate of DC Comics’ Suicide Squad, but without the exploding bracelets.
Time: 23:16
Whenever me and my friend Ray get together, either on the phone or in person, our conversation usually turns to comic books, and then, invariably turns to what we would do to MARVEL Comics to make it better. You see, over the years, the powers-that-be at Marvel have been slowly and systematically ruining all of their titles.
So what Ray and I came up with was something of a DC Comics-like “Crisis on Infinite Earths” type of storyline, and then, we clean house. What follows is a bit of that housecleaning.
The first thing to be done is to separate all of the heroes. There are just too damn many of them operating in New York City. It has been reported that the basic reason for all of the heroes being in New York City is because many, if not most, of the writers and creators lived in New York City. All right, even though Steve Rogers, who would one day, grow up to be the man the world knows as Captain America, is alleged to come from New York City’s Lower East Side, or possibly even the area known as Hell’s Kitchen, we will let him remain to have come from either of those areas. It gives him character. However, we propose that his base of operations is to be Washington, D.C. He is headquartered at what is known as the “Old Executive Office Building”, or, as it is known by others, the “OEOB”. He is answerable to the White House Chief of Staff, and to the President of the United States.
With the previous paragraph in mind, let us briefly move on to The Avengers. One of the many things that are wrong with the Avengers is the same thing that is wrong with the X-Men; there are too many of them. While some may feel that having a large team with which to work is fine thing, sometimes less is more. But what we propose here is that there is to be one leader, and that is Captain America. The way it would work is like this.
The Avengers are now brought together by need. There are to be no regular members. As there are no regular members, there is no longer any need for meetings, and because there are no meetings, there is no need for a headquarters. Allow me to explain. An incident occurs that requires more than one hero; Captain America goes from his office in the OEOB to a special room in the Pentagon. He travels by means of a superspeed underground rail system. He then enters the situation into a computer. The computer analyzes the situation and calls up the names of those heroes, and heroines, which are the best ones suited for the job at hand. Now, one might ask “What if that person isn’t available?” Well, the answer is, “Cap will just have to find someone else.” This opens up all sorts of possibilities in that the available person just might not like Captain America.
Take for instance, the resident archer extraordinaire Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton. It could be that Hawkeye was on a previous mission with Cap and the rest of whomever was called, and something happened that Hawkeye did not like, and for which, Cap was ultimately responsible, or vice versa. So say another occasion arises that calls for an expert in archery. Hawkeye could say he does not want to get into another situation like before, but naturally, Cap will appeal to Hawkeye’s sense of duty, and thereby make him join up. Which of course means it may not work the next time he gets called. Did I make that clear enough? I sure hope so, because I don’t think I could go through it again.
So, getting back to what I was saying at the beginning of all this, The Avengers, being that they have a rotating membership, might not always come back with the same people they left with. In short, one, or several members of the team, may die. And they will stay dead.
Now that’s not to say that every month a major character is in danger of being killed, there are some B-Level heroes that aren’t always used, and they seem to be more resilient than cockroaches. In any event, this new Avengers can be considered almost a duplicate of DC Comics’ Suicide Squad, but without the exploding bracelets.
More to Come
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Journal Entry #20: Being Me
Date: November 18, 2007
Time: 21:31
Every once in a while, and it hasn’t happened for quite some time now, I get this feeling where I’m tired of being me. I’m tired of everything that’s going on around me; I’m tired of putting up with everything that’s going on around me. I’m tired of my job, and even when I was having difficulty in finding one, I was tired of that. I’m just tired with being me, and I feel that it’s someone else’s turn.
I mentioned this to a friend of mine once. He gave me a fantastic answer, “You need a vacation.” Y’know, if I ever decided to get talked out of suicide, he’s the one I would call last. He didn’t stop to think that even if I were to go anywhere, I’d have to come back, and if I went anywhere and came back, I’d Still Be Me.
So even after deciding that maybe someone else should have the privilege of being me, after all, I shouldn’t be the only one to have this much misery, I figured out why I’m stuck with the job; no one else wants it. And I don’t blame them one bit.
But regardless of all that, I do need a break. I think I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but my brain has been so addled lately that I’m not sure I remember exactly when. But I need a break. I need to get out of town, possibly out of the state, maybe even out of the country. I need to maybe go to London for two weeks instead of the usual one week, and then spend about two or three weeks just resting. But if that were to happen, there would have to be one proviso that would guarantee my returning. Things would have to change.
My job, for the most part, that would have to go. I am sick and tired of working for a construction contractor. I don’t belong there, I’ve never been comfortable there, and I don’t like it there.
The next thing that would have to change is being at school. I don’t feel I belong at DeVry either. I don’t know what school I’m meant to be attending, or even if I'm meant to go to school, but wherever it is, or is not, I know it’s not where politics and profit margins rule the day.
And finally, as much as I like living where I do, being close to everything I need, I wouldn’t mind living above ground for a change. It has been over twenty years since I moved into this basement apartment.
But none this is going to happen. Why? Simple answer: Because I can’t go anywhere in the first place. I don’t have the time, nor do I have the money. So, what else ya got?
I look forward to an answer.
Time: 21:31
Every once in a while, and it hasn’t happened for quite some time now, I get this feeling where I’m tired of being me. I’m tired of everything that’s going on around me; I’m tired of putting up with everything that’s going on around me. I’m tired of my job, and even when I was having difficulty in finding one, I was tired of that. I’m just tired with being me, and I feel that it’s someone else’s turn.
I mentioned this to a friend of mine once. He gave me a fantastic answer, “You need a vacation.” Y’know, if I ever decided to get talked out of suicide, he’s the one I would call last. He didn’t stop to think that even if I were to go anywhere, I’d have to come back, and if I went anywhere and came back, I’d Still Be Me.
So even after deciding that maybe someone else should have the privilege of being me, after all, I shouldn’t be the only one to have this much misery, I figured out why I’m stuck with the job; no one else wants it. And I don’t blame them one bit.
But regardless of all that, I do need a break. I think I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but my brain has been so addled lately that I’m not sure I remember exactly when. But I need a break. I need to get out of town, possibly out of the state, maybe even out of the country. I need to maybe go to London for two weeks instead of the usual one week, and then spend about two or three weeks just resting. But if that were to happen, there would have to be one proviso that would guarantee my returning. Things would have to change.
My job, for the most part, that would have to go. I am sick and tired of working for a construction contractor. I don’t belong there, I’ve never been comfortable there, and I don’t like it there.
The next thing that would have to change is being at school. I don’t feel I belong at DeVry either. I don’t know what school I’m meant to be attending, or even if I'm meant to go to school, but wherever it is, or is not, I know it’s not where politics and profit margins rule the day.
And finally, as much as I like living where I do, being close to everything I need, I wouldn’t mind living above ground for a change. It has been over twenty years since I moved into this basement apartment.
But none this is going to happen. Why? Simple answer: Because I can’t go anywhere in the first place. I don’t have the time, nor do I have the money. So, what else ya got?
I look forward to an answer.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Journal Entry #19: Fitting In
Date: November 17, 2007
Time: 21:53
I guess you would refer to this entry as something of a follow-up to “Acceptance”. The reason is I still don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. This isn’t some once in a while feeling, okay, maybe it rises to the surface every so often, but the feeling is always there.
I’m not really sure what it is exactly. Sometimes I feel like I was born at the wrong time, and I don’t mean night or day. I mean the year, the decade, sometimes even the century. Sometimes it’s a matter of geography. Was I really meant to be born in Brooklyn, or was it somewhere else in New York? Come to think of it, who says it had to have been in New York at all? Hell, come to that, who says it has to have been anywhere on the East Coast? There are even times when I wonder if I was really meant to be born in the United States.
And then, there’s that once in a while moment, when I’m laying in bed, the lights are off because I’m trying for some sleep, that little feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to either have been born, or have yet to be born, on another planet. And no, I don’t think it’s one of the planets in this particular solar system.
I just don’t know.
Time: 21:53
I guess you would refer to this entry as something of a follow-up to “Acceptance”. The reason is I still don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. This isn’t some once in a while feeling, okay, maybe it rises to the surface every so often, but the feeling is always there.
I’m not really sure what it is exactly. Sometimes I feel like I was born at the wrong time, and I don’t mean night or day. I mean the year, the decade, sometimes even the century. Sometimes it’s a matter of geography. Was I really meant to be born in Brooklyn, or was it somewhere else in New York? Come to think of it, who says it had to have been in New York at all? Hell, come to that, who says it has to have been anywhere on the East Coast? There are even times when I wonder if I was really meant to be born in the United States.
And then, there’s that once in a while moment, when I’m laying in bed, the lights are off because I’m trying for some sleep, that little feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to either have been born, or have yet to be born, on another planet. And no, I don’t think it’s one of the planets in this particular solar system.
I just don’t know.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Journal Entry #18: Part III
Date: November 16, 2007
Time: 22:10
The final dream I remember with vivid clarity took place in a park. Sort of.
The grass was a very dark green, and the trees were filled with green leaves. This would say to most people that it was either spring or summer. It was a cloudy day, and I was with some friends. We were tossing a large ball around and on this one toss to me, I missed it. No surprise there as I am lousy when it comes to sports.
The ball got past me and bounced onto this patio. Or at least it looked like a patio from where I was standing. When I got closer, I found out it was an upper deck of a ship. There were lounge chairs and tables for card playing, and these oddly shaped trees in these odd-looking pots. The trees were small, but their trunks twisted and curved themselves in strange ways. But what really made them look odd was the shelf that stood between the top of the pot and the middle of the tree. It was like something out of “The Jetson’s”.
There were a great many elderly people lounging about, and I excused myself and “begged pardon” on a grand scale. I couldn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as though I didn’t belong there, and I should be as polite as I could until I could find a way to get out of there. I remember I was holding the ball, and as I was being complimented on how polite I was I was invited to stay a while until the ship was ready to leave. And I said “I don’t think I belong here.” But some of them were insistent that I stay, and I kept telling them that I didn’t belong there.
I remember I kept on say that until I woke up.
My relating these dreams has been somewhat difficult for me in some ways as it dredges up a lot of memories associated with the dream. In point of fact, it dredges up the dream. I mean, yeah, I remember it and all, but I'm not in the habit of talking about it.
Time: 22:10
The final dream I remember with vivid clarity took place in a park. Sort of.
The grass was a very dark green, and the trees were filled with green leaves. This would say to most people that it was either spring or summer. It was a cloudy day, and I was with some friends. We were tossing a large ball around and on this one toss to me, I missed it. No surprise there as I am lousy when it comes to sports.
The ball got past me and bounced onto this patio. Or at least it looked like a patio from where I was standing. When I got closer, I found out it was an upper deck of a ship. There were lounge chairs and tables for card playing, and these oddly shaped trees in these odd-looking pots. The trees were small, but their trunks twisted and curved themselves in strange ways. But what really made them look odd was the shelf that stood between the top of the pot and the middle of the tree. It was like something out of “The Jetson’s”.
There were a great many elderly people lounging about, and I excused myself and “begged pardon” on a grand scale. I couldn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as though I didn’t belong there, and I should be as polite as I could until I could find a way to get out of there. I remember I was holding the ball, and as I was being complimented on how polite I was I was invited to stay a while until the ship was ready to leave. And I said “I don’t think I belong here.” But some of them were insistent that I stay, and I kept telling them that I didn’t belong there.
I remember I kept on say that until I woke up.
My relating these dreams has been somewhat difficult for me in some ways as it dredges up a lot of memories associated with the dream. In point of fact, it dredges up the dream. I mean, yeah, I remember it and all, but I'm not in the habit of talking about it.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Journal Entry #17: Dreams, Part II
Date: November 15, 2007
Time: 22:35
There were two dreams I had that were so vivid; I didn’t wake up when I started talking. You see, I have found that if I talk in a dream, I wake myself up. It’s as though my silence gives the dream a chance to finish. I wonder if by talking, I’m introducing a form of logic into a moment that is supposed to have no logic at all.
In any event, this one particularly vivid dream had me in a cemetery.
No idea how I got there, or why I was there, except I think I was walking through as a form of a short cut to somewhere else. Well, whatever the reason I was there, I remember walking off to the right, and I got to what was the top of a small hill. At the top of this hill was a small red brick building, probably a mausoleum. To the right of that was a large blackish-gray headstone. It was large enough to have a large enough base that would allow a person to sit on the base comfortably enough and be able to lean their back against the upright portion of the stone.
Sure enough, on the side of the stone that faced towards the bottom of the hill sat an old woman. She was dressed rather nicely, even wearing one of those old-fashioned hats with a knit veil on it. Even though it was a dream, the say this was happening on was bright and sunny. The woman appeared to be watching a funeral. I could tell from the expression on her face that it was hers. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief a few times and I thought it rude of me to just stand there. So I went over and asked if anything was wrong.
Yeah, I know, dumb question, but I figured it would break the ice a little. She said how sad she was that her family had to go through this, what with her being ill and then dying. I looked down toward the burial site and saw how many people were gathered. All the seats were taken, a few more had been brought out from the chapel, and still there were a lot of people standing. I pointed out to her that with all that many people gathered to say goodbye that her family must have loved her dearly, regardless of having to deal with whatever illness she had. She looked back at the crowd that had lined up to throw flowers on the coffin, and she smiled, and then she said to me “You are a very astute young man. Thank you.” And she vanished.
Shortly after that, I woke up.
In any event, this one particularly vivid dream had me in a cemetery.
No idea how I got there, or why I was there, except I think I was walking through as a form of a short cut to somewhere else. Well, whatever the reason I was there, I remember walking off to the right, and I got to what was the top of a small hill. At the top of this hill was a small red brick building, probably a mausoleum. To the right of that was a large blackish-gray headstone. It was large enough to have a large enough base that would allow a person to sit on the base comfortably enough and be able to lean their back against the upright portion of the stone.
Sure enough, on the side of the stone that faced towards the bottom of the hill sat an old woman. She was dressed rather nicely, even wearing one of those old-fashioned hats with a knit veil on it. Even though it was a dream, the say this was happening on was bright and sunny. The woman appeared to be watching a funeral. I could tell from the expression on her face that it was hers. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief a few times and I thought it rude of me to just stand there. So I went over and asked if anything was wrong.
Yeah, I know, dumb question, but I figured it would break the ice a little. She said how sad she was that her family had to go through this, what with her being ill and then dying. I looked down toward the burial site and saw how many people were gathered. All the seats were taken, a few more had been brought out from the chapel, and still there were a lot of people standing. I pointed out to her that with all that many people gathered to say goodbye that her family must have loved her dearly, regardless of having to deal with whatever illness she had. She looked back at the crowd that had lined up to throw flowers on the coffin, and she smiled, and then she said to me “You are a very astute young man. Thank you.” And she vanished.
Shortly after that, I woke up.
~Part 3 tomorrow~
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Journal Entry #16: Dreams
Date: November 14, 2007
Time: 21:31
I don’t know where I read this, or even heard this, but someone once said that we dream in black and white. I don’t know what that guy was on, but I’ve always dreamt in color. And I have had a few dreams that have stuck in my mind. I even had a dream repeat itself. What I mean by that is this; I had a particular dream twice.
Let me explain.
When I was about five years old, I dreamed I was walking along a concrete walkway. I remember my father and brother were with me, and we were mingled with a lot of other people. And we all were walking along this pathway.
Soon, and this was still within the dream, we walked through this gate, and onto this enormous platform. It was situated above this gigantic waterfall. I remember looking out past the edge and seeing the water, but we were so high up, and the waterfall was so large and powerful, the mist prevented you from seeing any further than a few feet. I suddenly felt a little dizzy, so I sank slowly to the floor. I reached out my right hand, and with my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger, touched the floor. I remember feeling the cold of the concrete, and the roughness of it, and then I woke up.
About 13 years later, I was about to graduate high school, and one evening, I had that dream again. Everything was exactly the same as it was when I had the dream when I was five. Even down to waking up when I felt the cold and rough surface of the platform.
When my parents and I lived up in Co-Op City in the Bronx, we lived in the part of Co-Op City they called “Section 5”. There were five sections and we lived in the fifth. They had 3 main configurations of apartment buildings in Co-Op, as we called it. There was the Tower Building, which was 33 stories high and looked like a large ‘X’ in a small box. Then there was the “Triple Core”, which not only had 26 stories, but was in 3 sections, and then there was the Chevron, so named because that was the shape. That had 24 floors and was in two sections.
They also had what was referred to as “Townhouses”. They were a series of two-story structures, and each level had one apartment. The top apartment had a balcony, while the bottom apartment had a backyard. Oh, and in case you were wondering, and even if you weren’t, the Tower had 384 apartments, the Triple-Core had 500, and the Chevron had 414. I used to deliver this weekend supplement and I had to count how many apartments in each building I delivered to so I would be sure to have enough.
Now, Section 5 had two sets of Triple-Core apartment buildings, and in the center of each set was a very large sandbox. In each sandbox was a series of structures and playsets made of wood.
One night, long after I had moved out of my parents’ house, I dreamed I was walking into Section 5. I was coming in from Section 4, via “Killer Curve”. Coming into Section 5 that way let’s you into where one of the sets of Triple-Cores are located, along with the sandbox. One of the things that clued me in on this being a dream is that I was wearing nothing but my underwear and a t-shirt. I then got caught in this small wooden house like structure in the sandbox. I remember saying, out loud mind you, “This is a dream. I’ll wake up, get out of this, and then, when I close my eyes again, I’ll be out.”
And that’s exactly what I did, and that’s exactly what happened.
Time: 21:31
I don’t know where I read this, or even heard this, but someone once said that we dream in black and white. I don’t know what that guy was on, but I’ve always dreamt in color. And I have had a few dreams that have stuck in my mind. I even had a dream repeat itself. What I mean by that is this; I had a particular dream twice.
Let me explain.
When I was about five years old, I dreamed I was walking along a concrete walkway. I remember my father and brother were with me, and we were mingled with a lot of other people. And we all were walking along this pathway.
Soon, and this was still within the dream, we walked through this gate, and onto this enormous platform. It was situated above this gigantic waterfall. I remember looking out past the edge and seeing the water, but we were so high up, and the waterfall was so large and powerful, the mist prevented you from seeing any further than a few feet. I suddenly felt a little dizzy, so I sank slowly to the floor. I reached out my right hand, and with my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger, touched the floor. I remember feeling the cold of the concrete, and the roughness of it, and then I woke up.
About 13 years later, I was about to graduate high school, and one evening, I had that dream again. Everything was exactly the same as it was when I had the dream when I was five. Even down to waking up when I felt the cold and rough surface of the platform.
When my parents and I lived up in Co-Op City in the Bronx, we lived in the part of Co-Op City they called “Section 5”. There were five sections and we lived in the fifth. They had 3 main configurations of apartment buildings in Co-Op, as we called it. There was the Tower Building, which was 33 stories high and looked like a large ‘X’ in a small box. Then there was the “Triple Core”, which not only had 26 stories, but was in 3 sections, and then there was the Chevron, so named because that was the shape. That had 24 floors and was in two sections.
They also had what was referred to as “Townhouses”. They were a series of two-story structures, and each level had one apartment. The top apartment had a balcony, while the bottom apartment had a backyard. Oh, and in case you were wondering, and even if you weren’t, the Tower had 384 apartments, the Triple-Core had 500, and the Chevron had 414. I used to deliver this weekend supplement and I had to count how many apartments in each building I delivered to so I would be sure to have enough.
Now, Section 5 had two sets of Triple-Core apartment buildings, and in the center of each set was a very large sandbox. In each sandbox was a series of structures and playsets made of wood.
One night, long after I had moved out of my parents’ house, I dreamed I was walking into Section 5. I was coming in from Section 4, via “Killer Curve”. Coming into Section 5 that way let’s you into where one of the sets of Triple-Cores are located, along with the sandbox. One of the things that clued me in on this being a dream is that I was wearing nothing but my underwear and a t-shirt. I then got caught in this small wooden house like structure in the sandbox. I remember saying, out loud mind you, “This is a dream. I’ll wake up, get out of this, and then, when I close my eyes again, I’ll be out.”
And that’s exactly what I did, and that’s exactly what happened.
~To be continued~
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Journal Entry #15: Good For..?
Date: November 13, 2007
Time: 22:38
I have asked this question, I’ve posed it, and I’ve posited it, I’ve even begged it, “What am I good for?” And no one seems to know the answer. So I attempt to elaborate. I say “I know what I’m good at; I want to know what I’m good for.” Still no luck, still no answer, just quizzical looks. So I have to really get technical about it, I have to list all that I know how to do, all that I’ve learned so far, and then, just for kicks, I throw in the natural talents I bring when I walk in the door. I have this innate gift for remembering things.
When I was younger, we never needed a TV Guide in our house. I’d read through it, and then all anyone needed to do was give me the day and time and I would rattle off all of the programs that were on that night. To this day, I can remember the phone number we had when we lived in Brooklyn; I can also remember the phone number of this girl from my second grade class. Of course I can’t recall her last name for the life of me, but I can remember her phone number. I can remember almost anything I’ve ever read, heard, or seen in my entire life. I can go up to my bookcase, look at the title of a book, and start remembering words and sentences and plot points, all without looking at the back of the book, or cracking it open to refresh my memory with the first few sentences.
So I have a fantastic memory, when my brain is allowed to function normally, which it hasn’t been doing for quite some time now, I have a talent for writing, which I haven’t been able to seriously get to lately, and I have a pretty good imagination, which sort of lends itself to the writing aspect, but like that, my imagination has been losing its spark these days.
I need some time off from everything that I’m doing. I need for someone to give me a test that will show, once and for all, what I am good for. Every time I’m given some sort of aptitude test or, I don’t know, a functionality quiz, the answers always come out the same, “Best suited to work in an office.” or “Best suited to work in business surroundings.” And so and so on.
The reason why this happens each and every time is because of the content of the exam; they ask questions that, once the logical side of my brain takes over, there’s little hope in getting it to relinquish control. This is when my tunnel vision becomes a hindrance more than a help.
I want to know what I’m good for, I want to know where I fit in, and so far this place, DeVry, and my job, Office Administrator for a Construction Contractor, isn’t helping any.
Time: 22:38
I have asked this question, I’ve posed it, and I’ve posited it, I’ve even begged it, “What am I good for?” And no one seems to know the answer. So I attempt to elaborate. I say “I know what I’m good at; I want to know what I’m good for.” Still no luck, still no answer, just quizzical looks. So I have to really get technical about it, I have to list all that I know how to do, all that I’ve learned so far, and then, just for kicks, I throw in the natural talents I bring when I walk in the door. I have this innate gift for remembering things.
When I was younger, we never needed a TV Guide in our house. I’d read through it, and then all anyone needed to do was give me the day and time and I would rattle off all of the programs that were on that night. To this day, I can remember the phone number we had when we lived in Brooklyn; I can also remember the phone number of this girl from my second grade class. Of course I can’t recall her last name for the life of me, but I can remember her phone number. I can remember almost anything I’ve ever read, heard, or seen in my entire life. I can go up to my bookcase, look at the title of a book, and start remembering words and sentences and plot points, all without looking at the back of the book, or cracking it open to refresh my memory with the first few sentences.
So I have a fantastic memory, when my brain is allowed to function normally, which it hasn’t been doing for quite some time now, I have a talent for writing, which I haven’t been able to seriously get to lately, and I have a pretty good imagination, which sort of lends itself to the writing aspect, but like that, my imagination has been losing its spark these days.
I need some time off from everything that I’m doing. I need for someone to give me a test that will show, once and for all, what I am good for. Every time I’m given some sort of aptitude test or, I don’t know, a functionality quiz, the answers always come out the same, “Best suited to work in an office.” or “Best suited to work in business surroundings.” And so and so on.
The reason why this happens each and every time is because of the content of the exam; they ask questions that, once the logical side of my brain takes over, there’s little hope in getting it to relinquish control. This is when my tunnel vision becomes a hindrance more than a help.
I want to know what I’m good for, I want to know where I fit in, and so far this place, DeVry, and my job, Office Administrator for a Construction Contractor, isn’t helping any.
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