July 16th, 2010

The Dream

The music begins softly
The scene fades in

We are in a large open room.
We are someplace warm, tropical
She stands on a wide stone terrace – her back is to me

It’s night and soft light in the room plays on her slender form
She looks out over a scene of lights in a tropical town
She is wearing a coral colored dress with thin straps
The dress is open to the small of her back, her skin is tan
Dark hair cascades over her bare shoulders
She is beauty defined

The music approaches its apex

I walk up behind her and lovingly grasp her upper arms
Her skin is warm silk to my touch
I lean over; she senses my move and slowly tilts her head
I kiss the side of her neck; she smells like flowers

I stand as she begins to turn towards me
A glimpse of the warmest smile that I know reaches her eyes

The song ends
The dream is over

I never fully see her face
A face I still long to see…

~Werner~
Originally written in June 2002
Based on a dream I had while listening to the music score, ‘My Wife with Champagne Shoulders’ by Mark Isham

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July 14th, 2010

Meetings

Conference room
Dimly lit
Cone of light on a large white screen
Dry, projector heated air
Polished wooden table
Laptops and notebooks open
A squirm of wires
Pens and coffee cups ready
Swivel chairs creaking
Ticking clock
Hollow voices
Meaningless words
Yawning faces
Heavy-lidded eyes
Meetings

Werner
July 14, 2010

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July 13th, 2010

Protected: Letters to Loly

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July 12th, 2010

Protected: Time & Passion

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June 23rd, 2010

Protected: A Nightmare

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June 6th, 2010

How Do You Eat an Elephant?


You don’t. It’s frikkin gross.

“How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”

We all know this saying and I think it’s the worst analogy for getting things done I’ve ever heard. I never liked it. I’ve seen this saying on dozens of websites and blogs, but never understood how it could refer to anything positive and motivating. It sounds like a saying born of the American obesity epidemic.

What do I like better, what saying makes more sense?

“How do you climb a mountain? One step at a time.”

These analogies refer to breaking down large goals into more manageable and doable parts. That if you concentrate on a series of small milestones, instead of one huge goal, you stand a better chance of achieving that major goal.

Let’s put the sayings to the test.

Eating an Elephant:
1. Have the pachyderm broiled in the world’s largest broiler and served on the world’s largest serving tray over the world’s largest Sterno® to keep it warm.
2. Sit down, grab a knife and fork and have at it. Take that first bite.
3. When you start, it can seem overwhelming. You don’t see how you’ll be able to devour the entire animal, but visualize what it will be like (who’d want to?) and get started.
4. You’re motivated to make a big impact early on and eat until you’re full then overstuffed. You begin to sweat, your stomach begins to ache and you’re breathing harder.
5. You end up puking then making your way lethargically to bed where you fall into a fitful sleep. You dream of Mr. Creosote from the movie ‘The Meaning of Life‘.
6. You learn to pace yourself, but eventually you need a series of bigger and beefier chairs to hold your ever increasing heft. You give up clothes for a muumuu and now sleep using a C-PAP machine.
7. Day after day, you thaw, cook and eat more of that elephant. You wonder why you’re doing it, but you just keep doing it.
8. It gets to the point where you can no longer stand. You remain in successively bigger steel-framed beds and cover yourself with blankets instead of the muumuu. (You don’t even want to know how the toiletries are handled!)
9. The day comes when there is no more elephant to eat. You’ve accomplished your goal.
10. You’re now the fattest person on earth. Crews take down an exterior wall of your house to get you out. An industrial sized forklift is used to carry you from the house to a flat-bed semi truck.
11. After gastric bypass surgery, you lose all the weight and have another surgery to remove 200 pounds of loose skin. What have you gained from the experience – other than surgery scars? Would you want to eat an even bigger elephant next time?

Climbing a Mountain:
1. Gather the right gear and tools to get started
2. Go to the trailhead. Take that first step – and the next…
3. When you start, you won’t be able to see the top of the mountain, but you know it’s there and work towards it.
4. You’re motivated to make a big impact early on and try to do too much in the beginning. You begin to sweat, your legs begin to ache and you’re breathing harder.
5. The trail can become a hard climb. There are many treacherous obstacles to overcome like roots tripping you up and loose rocks trying to sprain an ankle.
6. You learn to pace yourself and tend to the aches, blisters and scratches you’ve earned.
7. There are points you wonder why you are doing this to yourself and if it is worth it. Deep down you know this is something you wanted to do and continue.
8. As you continue on your journey you’re gaining valuable experience. You’re getting stronger, leaner and are breathing easier with each passing day.
9. As you get closer to the top you’re treated to beautiful vistas that hint to what lies ahead.
10. When you get to the top of the mountain there’s a tremendous sense of accomplishment and possibility. You feel unstoppable.
11. With the experience and knowledge you’ve gained you know what to expect when you climb your next, bigger mountain – and you know you can do it.

So, when it comes to accomplishing a major goal – would you prefer to eat an elephant or climb a mountain?

CategoryMotivation | Comment2 Comments »

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June 1st, 2010

A Haunted Book Store?

On Sunday, I drove down to New Haven with a friend, to visit my brother in Yale-New Haven Hospital. On the way back one of our favorite places to stop is the Travelers Restaurant & Book Store. It’s right off exit 74, on I-84 in Connecticut on the CT-MA border. I’ve been going there for 30 of the 40 years it’s been opened.

The interior is dimly lit. The decor still largely stuck in the 70′s. There are shelves lined with good quality donated books and wood paneled walls lined with autographed pictures of famous authors who have visited the restaurant. The food is good, and with a meal you are allowed to take up to 3 used books from the main dining area for free. Downstairs is a small library of inexpensively (mostly) priced used books.

On this day the restaurant only had a couple of patrons. After we finished our meal, my friend and I went downstairs to look around. The room is small and well lit with a low ceiling and is crowded with rough hewn bookshelves, crammed with books.
When we found books we wanted to buy we put them on a holding table at the back of the room and continued browsing. Ten minutes later, I came back to the holding table and noticed my friend sitting on a chair looking miserable. He said, “I’m not feeling too well. I feel sick to my stomach. I’m gonna go to the men’s room.” I said, “Sure thing, I’ll watch your stuff.”

He went upstairs as I looked through my selections on the holding table. Alone in the room, I started getting a nervous feeling at my core; like there was an energy in the air. I looked around for any major electrical conduits, but none were readily evident. I moved away from that area and went down an aisle that was closer to the front of the room. The nervous feeling went away.

I was looking at books by Peter Benchley and Ramsey Campbell, when I heard something clunking on one of the shelves and then the sound of a book hitting the concrete floor with a slap. I stepped into the main corridor by the exit and with a few strides ascertained that there was no one else in the room with me.

I called out, “Hello? Is there anyone down here?” I received no answer. I noticed a book lying on the floor in the center aisle toward the back of the room by the holding table. I walked down the aisle and picked up the brown leatherback book off the floor. I looked it over and set the book securely back on a shelf. This is not an aisle my friend or I had been down before. This aisle shelves Women Studies, Crafts and Parenting.

As I stood there, I could feel that nervous energy feeling in my chest. The air seemed somehow thicker. I called out, “If there’s someone down here with me that wanted to get my attention, you got it. If you’re still here, I dare you to do the same thing again.”
I stood my ground for a minute, still feeling the energy, but nothing happened.

I cased the place again to be sure no one else was physically there with me. I then moved back toward the only exit and continued browsing for books to buy. Not a minute later, I heard a sliding sound, and then a clunking of something tumbling followed by a thud as another book hit the floor. This time it was at an aisle near the very back of the room in the ‘Classic Literature’ section. This book was also at the end of the aisle near where the holding table is. I picked up the book and shelved it saying, “Okay, I hear you, thanks for letting me know you’re here.”

I heard someone creaking on the stairs and went to check it out. It was my friend coming back down. I asked if he saw anyone go up and said he hadn’t. I asked how he was feeling and he said, “It’s funny, I felt a lot better as soon as I got upstairs. When I went to the bathroom I didn’t have to do anything. When I was down here, I felt like I was going to either puke or crap myself. But I’m fine now.”

My friend is not a believer in the paranormal, but he perked up when I told him about my experiences while he was upstairs. He wanted to keep looking around now that he felt better. A few minutes later I saw him retrieving his books off the holding table and pacing around nervously asking if we could go.

We went back upstairs to pay for our purchases. He paid first and went outside to wait for me. When I was paying I asked the lady behind the counter if anybody ever reports “strange” things when they’re downstairs. She opened her mouth to say something then clamped it shut. A blank look came across her face. She would no longer look me in the face and said in a low monotone voice, “No, not that I’m aware of.” That was the end of it. She took my money and wished me a good day.

Back in the car, my friend said, “I had to get out of there. I got that sick-nervous feeling again when I was down there. As soon as I got upstairs I felt absolutely fine again. Do you think what we experienced could be caused by something paranormal?”

I had a huge grin on my face. For the rest of the trip home we had a very intense and interesting conversation.

CategoryGhosts, Life, Stores | CommentNo Comments »

May 26th, 2010

Being a Writer is a Mental Disorder

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.”
~ E.L. Doctorow

When you’re a creative writer, you have no choice in the matter. You need to write – even when you don’t want to. For those who know what I’m talking about, it’s like eating or sleeping. Writing is an essential part of living. I’ve been writing since I first scribbled rudimentary characters in crayon on my bedroom wall when I was three.

On several occasions, I became discouraged or lost interest in writing and stopped. However, the urge to write never left. I needed to express myself on the page. So I caved. I think this urge to write arises from my being an introvert. Most introverts find it easier expressing themselves via the written word rather than using the spoken one in mixed company.

As writer’s we love the concept of writing – putting words on a page to tell a story. We like reading about writing and writer’s. We like thinking about it, talking about it and even going to see others talk about it. We especially love having written.

What we hate, what we avoid at all cost, is sitting down to do the actual physical writing itself. Therefore, I think being a writer is some sort of mental disorder. It’s a sadomasochistic relationship with your mind. I don’t know of anything else like it.

Take food for example. Most people I know like hearing about food, talking about food and watching programs about it. We enjoy having eaten, but we really love the physical act of sitting down and eating food. It’s the same with sleep. We like thinking about it, love doing it and we really like having slept.

We need to eat and we need to sleep and enjoy it. No problem. Writer’s need to write, but often hate it. What’s the problem?

It comes down to Wanting to and Having to.

When we HAVE to write a research paper or essay for school, or procedures at work, it’s something we HAVE to do. Like doing our taxes, we have to do it, but hate it all the same. We don’t like being obligated to have to do things. We are much more interested in things we WANT or need to do.

When writing a book or a novel we’re enthusiastic. We have an idea for a story dying to get out of our head and onto the page. We start off like a house on fire. But soon, that fire of enthusiasm for the story dies down. It goes from something we wanted to do to something we feel we have to do.  When we get to that point we stop writing and file that story away – often for good.

Let’s face it writing a book length document is hard work. You always have to think and work on that one topic or story for a long period of time. It becomes a tedious bore and you end up dreading having to sit in front of the computer willing words to appear on the screen. After a while you end up hating what you’re doing.

I envy the ability of Diana Gabaldon and Stephen King, to sit and work for days and weeks and months at a time on just one novel. They have the stories fully formed in their heads, which they crank out into doorstop sized tomes.

It’s the same with writing an article for publication. We HAVE to write about a certain topic whether we are interested in it or not. Then there’s the pressure of having to meet a deadline. Writing is a creative process which doesn’t do well under pressure.

Is there writing we like to do and WANT to do – besides Twitter, text messaging and e-mail? Sure.

A great many of us writer’s love to write blog posts, personal essays and articles on topics in which we have an interest. These are far easier to do because we WANT to write them. These forms of writing allow us to express ourselves from a deeper and more personal level.

When ideas and words spring from both our heart and head, we WANT to get them down on the page. Doing so allows us an even greater connection with our readers. It’s an enjoyable process as there’s a message or story we want to convey in a succinct manner and share it with others.

I’ve been told that in order to make writing a function that you WANT to do on a consistent basis – you HAVE to treat it as a job. Like a lot of jobs, most people don’t want to do what they are doing, but they have to do it to fulfill the need to support their lifestyle.

Still, there are others who love what they do and it fulfills their needs. They have what they want and want what they have.

In some ways I’m getting close to that. I’ll let you know when I get there…

CategoryStephen King, Writing | Comment2 Comments »

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May 24th, 2010

What The Hell Have I Become?

There’s a very popular diner in my town called Mary Anne’s. It’s always busy, and on weekends you have to stand in line to get a table. The food, portions, prices and atmosphere are that good. Three weeks ago I was there with my kids and my folks when suddenly; a woman begins yelling excitedly, “BILL, BILL! Someone call 9-11, call 9-11″

At first everyone in the restaurant froze and then there was a commotion in the next room. I got up to see what was happening. A young woman was standing in the middle of the restaurant on her cell phone. In a booth on a low wall right next me were a man and woman in their 60′s. The stocky, red-headed woman had a look of horror on her face as she leaned over the bald, stocky form of her older husband slumped in the booth.

Just as I got there the man woke up to his wife patting him on the face and yelling his name. The man sat up and said in a calm voice, “what happened?” Once I saw the man was awake, I was relieved and returned to the table where my family still sat. I sat thinking that I was relieved the man woke up and that the ambulance was on its way. I was also relieved that I didn’t have to do anything, as I realized I didn’t really know what to do in case I had.

—–

This past weekend, same restaurant and this time it was just my son Steve and I sitting in a front booth. At one point a man in his 50′s, dressed in a leisure suit entered the restaurant. He walked unsteadily with a cane in one hand and had a leash to a large Bernese Mountain Dog in the other.

The man approached the register and spoke with someone there for a couple of minutes. He then turned to leave. This action unbalanced the man and he fell onto the dog in slow motion all the while beckoning to the dog, “Take it easy Sam, easy Sam – take it easy.” He said this over and over. It appeared he was trying to blame the dog for his falling. The dog never moved other than to collapse onto his haunches and front paws as the man’s weight came down on him.

The well-dressed man now saw rumpled on the floor of the restaurant. To my horror, no one, not a person among the dozens standing and sitting in the area got up to lend the man a hand. To my utter horror and dismay, I was one of those people. As I looked on, my son said, “Dad, stop staring. It’s not cool.” My son never made a move to help either. That’s not how I was at his age.

The man got his cane up and used that and the dog’s body for leverage to struggle his way back to his feet. The man straightened his coat, adjusted his grip on the cane and the leash and then the dog led them out of the restaurant.

I felt sick to my stomach and the look on my face prompted Steve to ask, “What’s wrong dad?”
“I feel like and ASS…no worse…I feel like shit for not helping that man.” I said.
“Nobody helped him either.” Steve said.
“I’m not like everybody else. I don’t want to be like everybody else. Everybody also else sucks for not helping.” I said “That’s not me. I never used to be like that. I was always the first to help. What the hell happened to me?”
Steve just looked at me. He never took ownership of the event either. He was content to let me own the guilt of inaction for myself.

I’ve always believed in the saying ‘A person never stands so tall as when they stoop to help another.’ I believe in it, but I wasn’t living it.

I said, “I’ll never just stand on the sidelines again when someone else is in trouble and needs help. Never again.”

I have a brother-in-law very good friend who owns an EMT/First Aid Training business.
It’s time I give him a call…or maybe I’ll just stop eating at that restaurant…

CategoryHealth, Life | Comment1 Comment »

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May 23rd, 2010

On Being Alone

Still getting a handle on all this being alone thing.

When I was still married and the kids were younger, there was always a demand for large chunks of my time. Any point I could get some alone time, I cherished it. When I couldn’t get alone time, I imagined all I would do if I had it.

Now the marriage is over, the wife has left and the kids are mostly grown. I have abundant alone time now, but don’t know what to do with it all. I thought about all of the things I used to imagine doing when I had no time, but now those things no longer interest me as much. There are plenty of projects to do around the house, but it doesn’t fill me up inside.

I’d like to find someone new, but I’m not looking for another serious relationship. What I’d like is a friend. No strings, no pressure – just someone to enjoy each others company and interests.

I sat in the house alone for another weekend feeling sorry for myself. Not liking how I was thinking about this situation, I decided to change it. When I did, a simple truth appeared. A person can’t live a life sitting on the couch thinking about it. So, I got out of the house and enjoyed a fantastic New England spring day.

I went to Barnes & Noble and broke in my new membership card. Then it was off to Dunkin’s for a coffee. I drove over to the main parking area of Massabesic Lake and chose a shaded parking spot facing the lake. I opened both windows, took a sip of coffee and opened the new book by Nathaniel Philbrick ‘The Last Stand’, the story about Custer and Sitting Bull.

Engrossed in Philbrick’s latest incredible work, a noise made me look up and take notice of my surroundings. A warm breeze blew through the windows carrying on it the smell of a nearby barbeque. On the lakeshore in front of me, three little girls played happily. A young man to the left sat beneath a tree and strummed melodies on a guitar while others sat around picnic tables talking in quiet tones. It was an idyllic moment on an idyllic day.

The scene sounds and smells brought back memories of better times. Though it pulled at my heart a bit I enjoyed it immensely. I was by myself…but I didn’t feel alone. I had the urge to do something else so I started the car, pulled out of the lot and headed for the north side of the lake.

At the Ledges trail-head, I got out of the car and decided to leave my phone and camera behind for some reason. Walking up the steady incline felt good. Just as the mosquitoes had me zeroed, I moved to the upper part of the trail in the sun and the breeze where the bugs let me be.

A couple of ladies with a dog approached me on their way down. They gave me big smiling helloes as they passed. It occurred to me that I had a big honest smile on my own face when I said hello back. People on the trail are often this way and I love it.

I made it to the sunlit ledges breathing easy. The breeze was welcomed as were the scattered cottony clouds punctuating a cool blue sky. Outside of the breeze, there was no other sound. As always, this place made me feel alive and appreciative of my surroundings. Alternately, I stood at the edge of the cliff or sat on a broad flat stone and just enjoyed the placid views.

I had the ledges to myself for a half-an-hour before heading back. On the way down, I met several more smiling people on their way up. Everyone on the trail just seemed to be genuinely happy to be outside today. I know I did. Even when I got back to the car and took a rural route home, the good feeling persisted. This is exactly what I had needed.

For the rest of the evening I no longer felt alone because I decided I didn’t want to feel that way. I spent the time talking with family and then mapping out how I’m going to live the next chapters of my story.

CategoryHiking, Life, Outings | Comment1 Comment »

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