• I've been hustling all week to get my papers in order because the Association finally got the contract done for me to train out of the lake side facility. I was in Phoenix last weekend, Halloween is this weekend, and then I'm going to Florida for a week starting the following weekend. Times are hectic but I'm happy that everything is starting to come together. At least, I like to believe they are.
I contacted Elliott today and asked him if he'd be willing to sell his laptop to me. He should call me within the next few days so we can discuss it. He wrote back and said he'd be willing to, but we gotta agree on a price. It might just be easier to go buy a new one.
So, after intense diliberation (read as: weeks of procrastination) I finally have a costume. I do this every year. I wait until the day before the party to decide or pick up a costume and it never fails that I can't get what I want or I still have no idea what I want because I didn't take the time to think about it. You'd figure that some one like me, who loves Halloween so much, might be more prepared to celebrate the greatest holiday of the year, but alas I never is.
• I'm going to Phoenix tomorrow morning and coming home on Friday night. I'm going with Gary Bush for a book fair in Phoenix, then Tucson, and then hitting a few libraries in Palm Springs and L.A. It's gonna be a long 36 hours, so I hope it's fun. Maybe I'll get lucky and have some stories to share...
• People who think they're too busy for exercise should run for the Presidential office. Bush, Kerry, and Edwards, and even Clinton, are all avid runners. If "the most powerful man in the world" can find time to go running every day, or play golf, then I think regular old joes like us can find the time. Unless they have an easier job than we thought, then I bet regular old joes who are used to working so hard and under such monumental pressure could do a better job. Shoot, I want to be able to play all day. Oh wait, I do.
• Fascinating. That's the only word that keeps popping into my head when I try to describe tonight. I spent several hours going through an old box of pack rat material. I've failed several times in the past to keep any sort of traditional journal but somehow managed to store away hundreds of papers, notes, letters, poems, pictures, trinkets, or you name it kind of stuff which in a way adds up to some type of untraditional chronical of my life.
Periodically I'll go through a sort of 'coming of age' experience and clean out some of the old stuff that I deem necessary to let go of. The rest I'll sift through and remember what I was thinking, feeling, struggling with, learning, etc. Some times it's absolutely embarassing, and other times I'm entirely impressed with myself. In either case I certainly learn a lot about myself during this exercise.
There is certainly a lot of inconsistency to be found in my creativity, my perception of the world around me, and my fascinations. Where some people might be able to trace a progression in their tastes, interests and thoughts, I find a lot of bouncing around from one extreme to another. I kept confusing myself as to the chronological order of things because there never seemed to be any pattern to my emotional clarity. But then again, I knew to expect that because that's just the way it's been for me. I haven't forgotten that yet. My rose colored glasses are still on order...
Some of my happiest times were captured on paper, which relieved me in a way because my life would almost appear to be a tragedy without the balance. One poem in particular, which was written for a friend I worked with at Starbucks brought joy to me even now. It beamed a sense of liberty which brought out my best creativity. Something I haven't experienced in a long time. But I also found a prayer journal ('95) which blew my mind because I couldn't believe I had written them, considering how difficult it is for me to pray nowadays.
My writing style has certainly diminished over the years, which I suppose is due to a lack of practice. While depression can tend to bring out some my artistic nature, it eventually barried it, which is really too bad because I wish I had a more accurate record of what I was experiencing. One thing I'm happy to discover is that my recolection isn't too off of what I find here. But even as I write this entry, there's an obvious decline of penmanship. Something I'm going to have to work on.
Either way, I'm going to stop for now. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk about more details. I'm tired.
• Here's something disturbing. Corporate America views 6 year olds as "almost young adults". I spent a good part of the afternoon on Monday at Barnes and Nobels reading some books regarding children and marketing. If you ever get the chance to read Consuming Kids by Susan Linn, do it. It's quite alarming to hear how corporate america views our children.
The marketing industry actually has an awards ceremony each year to celebrate the most creatively deceptive marketers in the business. It's held during an APK conference, which stands for Advertising and Promoting to Kids. The entire weekend is spent trying to teach marketers how to manipulate children without any concern for their well being.
• I just read that they now have trained dogs that can smell bladder cancer. A team of scientists actually have these dogs employed to smell human urine. Their goal is to develop a non-evasive approach of detecting the cancer at an early stage.
Where did they come up with the idea for cancer sniffing dogs? From what I would call folk lore. That's right, from a bunch of ancedotal stories about dogs who "aroused concern by constantly sniffing the owners moles, which actually turned out to be cancerous."
• At the risk of infringing upon someones copyright laws, I've decided to quote a poem for you that I thoroughly enjoyed. You may be familiar with Where The Sidewalk Ends, by Shell Silverstein. That is where I got it. It goes like this:
The Battle
Would you like to hear Of the terrible night When I bravely fought the -- No? Alright.
