Tag Archives: poetry

A Gift to My Readers

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As a Christmas gift to all my readers, I have lowered the prices on the novel I spent a majority of 2012 working on: The Stagner Chronicle.  I will not be receiving any money from the sale of the book–that’s the only way to get the price so low.  If you do download it for free or buy a cheap version of the printed book, I hope you will be kind enough to provide me with any feedback or reactions (I can never get enough feedback).

Merry Christmas to you all!  Enjoy!

31 years after the conclusion of America’s Second Revolution, those involved in the events release “The Stagner Chronicle.” This oral history documents a drastically different history from the one set in the history books. While living in a dystopian America, three young men and women accidently spark a revolution. When they are declared enemies of the state, the trio must avoid capture or risk being thrown in an underground prison-known as a Black Site. Meanwhile, The Revolution gains some real traction.

DOWNLOAD THE DIGITAL COPY FOR FREE
Paperback for only $6.77
Hardback for only $20.28

Merry Christmas

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It’s been a great Christmas.  With dozens of family members here last night, the evening went by in a blur.  I received the most amazing gift from the most beautiful girl I’ve met.  A large leather-bound journal for my travels.  It is something I will cherish in my time away.  I am so happy to have people in my life who understand me so.  I love each and every one of you.

I started off today by watching Les Miserables with my parents.  It’s pretty much a tradition in my family.  We have gone to many Broadway shows in New York over the years…but nothing could beat out Les Mis.  The story is so powerful.  Love.  Heartbreak.  Revolution.  Inequality.  I do wish to read Victor Hugo’s novel some day.  Maybe while I am in Morocco.  I have a long list of books to read.  With twenty days left until I leave, my list of things left to do is dwindling.  It is enough to keep me busy.  I will be in Morocco soon enough.  As those around me always like to remind me–my time in Morocco will be over soon enough as well.  Hopefully my lovely lady will be there when that time comes.

I can only hope.

Here is a new batch of poems my nearly a decade ago:

Live a Little

Guiding Light

Seat One.  Seat Two.

A Very Bronco Christmas

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I wrote a lot today.  I’m not one for giving gifts.  I just can’t bring myself to buy things–even if it is for other people.  So I write personal letters.  I ended up writing four this morning.  I only have three left to write.  I’m going to do my best to write them tonight; I like the idea of resting during Christmas Eve and Christmas.  It’s starting to feel a lot like Christmas.

I’m watching the Broncos kick butt right now.  This will be their 10th win in a row.  I am going to miss watching them when I am in Morocco.  I mean, the game is fun.  But it’s a great way to spend time with my father.  I will definitely miss that.  Well, 22 days to go until I leave.  I’m trying to cross at least three items off my to-do list today.  Today it went from 41 to 37.  I need to keep it up.

Here are today’s poems.  They’re getting better.

4 Waves, 1 Finger

Don’t Give a Damn

I Can

Living Wills & Other Difficult Questions

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I’m spending most of my days learning Arabic and going through hundreds of pages of manuals for the Peace Corps.  I am trying to do as much as I can right now so I can take a couple days off and truly kick back and enjoy myself for Christmas.  It seems to be going pretty well.  I believe I just finished the last of the readings.  Now I just have a checklist and lots of language preparations left.

There are a lot of interesting questions that have cropped up.  Cross-cultural understanding.  Universal rights.  A lot of these questions I will encounter once I make the move to Morocco in 23 days.  The big question right now is a living will.  I am leaving one behind with my parents.  We’ve talked about it before, but I understand the need to put it all in writing.  It’s strange thinking through the multiplicity of way you could find yourself in a end-of-life situation.  Moreover, I’m a little surprised at my own beliefs …and how little I would want to be kept alive artificially.

Here are today’s poems.  Enjoy:

We as One

Our Truth

‘Twas a Problem

 

Early Christmas, The End of the World, and Psy

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Today my family is celebrating an early Christmas for my nieces   That’s part of the practice when parents have joint custody.  It’s sad that they won’t be around for Christmas, but I’m glad they get to see their mother.  I wrote both of them letters to start to prepare them for the written communication I hope to have with them while I am in the Peace Corps.  It’s interesting how my writing changed in these letters.  I tend to write for young adults and adults.  Writing for pre-teens is different.  I don’t want to say anything that will go over their head, but I don’t want to talk down to them.  In the end, honest writing is usually the best.  As always.

I’ve been keeping a close eye on Gangnam Style the past few days.  It looks as though it will hit 1,000,000,000 views around the moment the world is supposed to end.  It’s fascinating watching the comments flow in.  So many people are begging for Psy to take down the video and save us all.  I know a lot of it is people messing around, but it’s still strange to watch.  I love this about the Internet.  It’s like watching the internal monologue of humanity–as it tries to convince itself that it’s not crazy.

Here’s today’s batch of Poetry from 2004:

Words

One Question

No Time for Fear

 

A Month Without Her

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I spent a month (Oct. 20 through Nov. 20) falling in love with a girl who lived 1,300 miles away from me.  It was easily the best month of my life thus far.  Now it’s been a month without her.  It’s been strange.  It not like I think about her everyday.  No.  That would be easy.  I find myself thinking she would make each destination in my daily life so much better–so much fuller.  Some days are easier than other–but some days are downright lonely without her.

I’m moving forward in going to the Peace Corps.  Which means another 800 days without her.  The idea frightens me.  I know I asked for this by letting myself fall in love with her so soon before leaving the country.  The thing is, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Period.  The time apart will be impossible.  It’ll teach us much about ourselves and each other.  It may rip us apart.  But it may make us stronger.  I do not know the future.  All I know is that, right now,  I see no other option.  The Peace Corps is where my life has been pointed for years.  With it finally on my doorstep, how do I walk away?  What kind of life will be waiting for me if I do?

The internal conflict burns inside of me as–each day–I read over more forms and learn Arabic.  It’s like I’m living two lives at this point.  At some point, one of those lives will have to fall into a hibernation–hoping to be reawoken in the near-future.  At this point, I expect that to be the life with her.  I do not like that.  I hate that that is going to be my decision.  I try every day to re-imagine what life would be like if I stayed in the states….but it’s getting harder and harder to see it.

This blog is going to transform in the days, weeks, and months ahead.  As I make the transition to living overseas, it will remain my writing blog.  But it will also take on the aspects of a Peace Corps Journal.  Although I am not legally allowed to share my specific whereabouts or doings, I will be able to share my personal thoughts and writings.  That will not change.

I have much from my teenager years that I still want to upload before I leave.  I think I need to up it to three per update.  Here’s today’s batch of poems from nine years ago:

One Thing Left

What It’s All About

Our Autumn Fall

 

Overdose of Peace Corps

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I read through all the documents in my Peace Corps packet again.  With 39 days until I leave, it seems necessary to figure out as much as I can.  I sent an email to my director.  I got a response this morning that my Peace Corps Passport has already been issued and will be waiting for me at the staging even on January 14th.  I should get more information on the staging event before Christmas…but from what I’ve read, it looks like it may be in Philadelphia.

Over the next 39 days, my time will be divided up between learning Arabic, reading, writing, and hanging out with friends and family.  Oh, and watching the Denver Broncos kick some ass.  As a result, I will be updating new stuff sporadically based on what I am doing each day.  I will, however, continue uploading old pieces for you daily.  I really like the one for today.  I hope you do too:

’cause I know

Morocco on the Radar

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It’s been a good day off.  I cleaned my condo, saw Wreck-It-Ralph, wrote some Haikus, and generally relaxed.  I finally broke out my Peace Corps packet it today and started getting a better feel for what the next 27 months are going to look like.  I even met someone who vacationed in Morocco (he made me much more excited about going). I wish the day would just come.

I think I am going to take a break from what I have been trying to write.  It just isn’t working.  I’d rather spend these 39 days free writing anyway.  I also need to read a lot more than I have in the past week.  That means I will have more to upload in the week to come.  Until then, here is another poem from my freshmen year of high school:

Look at Me

40 Days Out

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Today was my last day of substitute teaching.  After two longs years in this field, I hope to finally say goodbye to the job.  In 40 days, I will leave for the Peace Corps.  Then comes 27 months of service.  When I return, I hope to make a career in the government.  So, this is the end of a long, strange shift in my jobs.  Substitute teaching allowed me to live the way I wanted to live.  I made enough money to get by.  I never took my job home with me.  I could choose what days I wanted to work.  It was the perfect life for a writer.  Now, I am on Christmas vacation with 40 days left in the United States.

Since I worked on the blog instead of writing yesterday, today I need to focus again.  A large part of me just wants to lay down, take a nap, watch a movie, and talk to Sofia.  I can’t do that.  Yet.  That can be tomorrow’s plan.  This evening has to be about writing.  I will get started now.  Here is another poem from 2004 for all of my readers:

When You Look at Me