Handwritten Hacks II

Handwritten Hacks I

Blogversary 2023

It’s my blogversary once again. If you’ve been reading, you probably noticed that I’ve done a pretty poor job of blogging this past 12 months. I’ve actually been writing quite a bit, just not blogging and generally not writing much for wide publication.

I’ve been doing lots of handwritten work that is mostly personalized. I like it, but I do hope to get back to a little bit more of this blogging thing in the future. I also hope to have a second book published by early next year. Of course, I was hoping to have it done by summer… and by today. So I make no promises, but most of the writing is done. If anything, too much writing is done, and I’ll be editing and re-writing some things in smaller versions.

So as I said, I’ll be trying to do a bit more blogging in the future. I’m going to try to do it just like I do my handwritten work. I just scribble and see what comes out. That’s a hard thing for me to unleash over the internet, but it makes me feel so much better. It might make you feel a lot worse, but you always have the option of not reading.

And here I go, on with another stab at trying to unleash all my maniacal musings upon the world. And I’ll try to do it with minimal editing and even less fear. Let’s see how it goes.

Excerpt From My Next Book (Maybe): Ed

My blog has been quiet, but my mind sure hasn’t. Things have been a tad crazy in my life, but I’ve done a whole bunch of writing. It just hasn’t been stuff that I intended for here. So in case you’re just dying to read something from me, I thought I’d give out a little excerpt (or at least a draft of an excerpt) from that next memoir I intend to maybe some day publish.

Ed 

This is one of the few times I’ll use someone’s real name. I won’t use his last name because I couldn’t tell you how to spell it exactly. And I would hate to spell it wrong. 

This story begins when I was a 20-year-old journalism student at Michigan State University. It pretty well ends there too. Most of the story all happens in one day. But I digress. 

I had one last story to write for a news writing class. My chosen topic was sexual harassment which was hot news at that particular time. It started well too when I scored an interview with a nice man at the state’s EEOC office. The meat of my story was to come from the supervising professor for this writing class. As luck would have it, her office hours were scheduled right when I had a good amount of time. 

Of course, this wouldn’t be much of a story if it cruised easily from there. When I arrived at this professor’s office door, it was locked. She was nowhere to be found. One of the instructors for the class came walking by. I thought this might be a saving grace with a lead to where I could find her. He jiggled the office door handle, turned to me, shrugged, and said, “SOL.” 

Dejected and lacking sufficient material for the kind of story I was needing to write, I sought the advice of my primary instructor. He gave me a lead for a brand new story. “There’s this guy at the Office of Public Information. His name is Ed. He’s about to retire. He’s this crusty old fart who will spin you a nice yarn. Go write a story about him.” The next day I was on my way.

For My Barroom Girls

I’m guessing you noticed today is Thanksgiving. It’s also my mom’s birthday. She would’ve been 76 today. This is my 12th Thanksgiving without her, and I have to say it still hasn’t really gotten easier. Nevertheless, I’m going to carry on and try to do some things today to make her proud. One of those things is to publish something for my Blogversary.

I missed my Blogversary last year. Maybe the year before too. As you may have read earlier this month, things have been not so good for me for a couple years now, especially in the department of my mental health. But I’m happy to say things are on the upswing. Let’s just hope it stays that way.

In fact, let me get real honest about this upswing. There have been plenty of potholes on this road. Anxiety has slapped me around a bit from time to time. Overall, though, I’m happy to say I feel like I’m on a really good path and think this time it just might be sustainable. So let me take this day to give some thanks to some of the folks who have been so helpful in recent times.

(I need to squeeze in an extra note in here. I already had this whole thing written and scheduled to publish when I went to the bar after a particularly rough day. There wasn’t a single lady there who’s ever really made a significant dollar off me. But somehow when I walked in the door, they lined up to hug me. They’ve never gotten a thing from me but a tiny bit of kindness and some basic human respect. It’s what my mom taught me to do, and for that I have been so richly rewarded. So let me give an extra special thanks to the most important girl ever. I love you, mom.)

Happy Veteran’s Day and Happy Heavenly 100th KV

It’s Veteran’s Day, and it’s Kurt Vonnegut’s 100th birthday. I still remember hearing about his death more than 15 years ago now. I was in Basic Training and got the news from a guy from my mom’s hometown. It was some shitty synchronicity. KV had died after a fall at his house. So it goes.

Today I’m going to dig out one of my old uniform tops and wear it around for a while. I’m doing it as a favor for a friend, but that story is too long to tell right now. It’s probably going to make me extra grumpy today. I’ve already been thanked for my service multiple times this morning, and I’m sure this will make it worse. I hate it when civilians thank me for my service, but I do my best to be gracious and grateful. I just wish people understood that I didn’t do it for them. I did it for me. And my buddies.

So I’m going to say thank you to all those old friends of mine. They brought me home alive. Sometimes I wish they hadn’t, so I wouldn’t have to carry this burden of grief for all those who aren’t still walking around. But that’s not how it played out. And now my duty is to carry on.

I’m dreading the thought of wearing that old uniform top, but I did promise a friend I’d do it. I’m just scared that someone is going to call me a hero which is way worse than getting thanked for my service. I’ve never been able to be gracious with that one. I always feel the need to set them straight. Too many times I’ve stood on an airfield shoulder to shoulder with my buddies, saluting a hero on their way home draped in the flag.

I’m no hero. I got to come home alive, thanks to all those friends of mine.

The heroes have their day in the spring, and they well deserve it. Today is for me and my buddies still carrying on the mission. Each of us does it in our own way, but we’re all still doing it in some way, even if it’s just thanking each other. While I do appreciate the thank you’s I get from everyone else, it’s theirs that mean the most to me. And I will forever be grateful to everyone with whom I shared that time in my life, all those years ago in so many places across the globe.

Thank you, battles. I love and miss you all.

“Let’s have a round for these freaks and these soldiers, another round for these friends of mine…”

She Left Home

Things have been a tad crazy in my life lately. But let me start by explaining my absence.

As I write this, I couldn’t tell you the last time I published a blog post. You might think that my mental health is somehow involved, and you would be absolutely correct. My mental health has not been at its best for quite some time now. Even though I’ve been quite functional and at times have even seemed happy, deep inside I’ve been depressed and miserable. I’ve definitely done a lot of future planning and thought about things that might lead to greater happiness in the future. However, part of me had serious doubts that some of these things would really come to pass. At best, I thought I might be able to retire early (in 7-10 years) and then maybe find some time to do things I really want to do.

And then my wife left me. Maybe you heard about this. A couple days after the big event, I posted about it on Facebook. If you missed that, then this might be coming as a bit of a shock to you. But it’s quite true. I came home on October 11 and found her gone. She left me a letter to explain things, but I haven’t laid eyes on her since I went to bed on October 10. We’ve exchanged a few text messages but haven’t spoken. She moved out as fast as she could while I was at work and took the dog with her.

I’m not going to get into my grievances about our marriage. Maybe some other day, but those are just not needed now. The fact of the matter is we haven’t been happy. I couldn’t tell you when I was last happy. I certainly won’t speak for her.

So here’s the shitty thing that I just have to say: I’m grateful to her for leaving. And I’m not even mad about how she left. I would probably have done the same thing, plus it helped us both avoid some awkward scene. I’m relieved that it finally happened, and I hope she does find her own happiness. I am certainly feeling like I might be able to find mine now. And part of that is getting back into this writing game.

It also helps that some nice things have happened to me recently. I’ve made some new friends recently, one in particular, and that has brought new inspiration and encouragement. This has gotten me working on a second memoir which will hopefully improve greatly upon that first piece of trash. Plus, one of my best buddies from the Army has moved to a nearby town. Work schedules and things have kept us from getting our crazy on, but rest assured a plan is in place and the good times will be rolling soon.

With the thoughts of potential early retirement, I’d been giving a lot of thought to what my future might bring and where the wind might blow me. Now I’m feeling completely unmoored and pondering so many possibilities. I am not about to commit to anything anytime soon, but I’m excited by the possibilities.

I cried like crazy when I first found that my wife was gone. I really did love her. I still do love her. But we’re not made for each other. I sincerely hope she is much happier now. I certainly am, and I’m looking forward to so much more.

There’s a Method to My Mumblings

It occurs to me I have failed to write any daily double digits for some days now. I’ve been kind of backed up with writing a grad school paper that’s all about method which means it’s even more boring than these blog posts. I think I’m mostly done, but I also feel there are multiple things missing. Unfortunately, my brain is now fried, and I don’t think I can accomplish any more. So instead of working on that I’m writing this terrible blog post.

My Apologies to Hoagy Carmichael

“Sometimes I wonder why I spend…” so much time pondering what the hell I’m doing.

This One Is Extra Nerdy

I’m well past the point where I should be reading research for my big final master’s degree project. I’ve certainly read plenty. But I keep finding more. And this means the literature review that I just finished will need even more work than the edits I had already planned. Somehow, though, I’m loving it because I’m a nerd and love reading research. Still, someone needs to save me from myself.