My Mural

This was my bedroom wall back in high school – one day the summer before my senior year I started by painting my initials on the wall.  It grew over time.   Friends came over they signed the wall, I painted the names of my closest friends and girlfriends of different eras on the wall.  It was a work of art, and epic time of my life.   It was a living diary that shared information with those who entered and those who embraced it.

Every time someone came over something was added or removed from the wall.  It went so far that even some parents signed it.   It was a moment at time which I lived and breathed inside my mural, it was an extension of myself that I didn’t have for years.

When I moved out to go to college my brother inherited my room.   Out when the mural, lost under paint was the soul that previously breathed into that room.  After my brother, two of my sisters inherited that room.  None of them kept up the mural tradition.   Part of me had hoped my siblings would have taken up the torch, either taking their own wall or painting over the areas I had painted and made it their own.

Now it’s a plain painted wall and the pictures above are all that exists of the soul that lies beneath the current paint.

My blog now is my modern mural.  Granted my friends don’t participate here like they did back then, but the blog I think is more ethereal to them as the wall was all those years ago.   It doesn’t give them a chance to leave their mark the way the tangible wall allowed them to exist.   The picture was take a week or two before I left for college.    I lost myself after that.    Lost was my childhood and the friendships I left behind.  Moving on from the past and onto the next stage of my life.    I am myself and no other.    I have parts of myself that have been painted over and will never again emerge.   Still for those that know, part of myself will always shine through because they know what exists beneath paint.

The new triplets

F.decorate(_ge(‘photo_notes’), F._photo_notes).notes_go_go_go(1357699636, ‘http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1319/1357699636_f0800b939e_t.jpg’, ‘3.1444′);

View Creeva’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

This is Poe – named after the author – this is the runt and the adventurous one of the bunch

F.decorate(_ge(‘photo_notes’), F._photo_notes).notes_go_go_go(1357703000, ‘http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1316/1357703000_e23d46d317_t.jpg’, ‘3.1444′);

View Creeva’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

This is Zedd – named after the wizard in the Terry Goodkind series. More or less he is the most stand offish and psuedo leader of the group.

This is Dante (Xie says named after the Poet – I say after the character in Clerks). He is the trouble maker of the group.

I’ll get some better pictures up soon – they don’t look as mangy IRL.

F.decorate(_ge(‘photo_notes’), F._photo_notes).notes_go_go_go(1356816801, ‘http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1328/1356816801_acf23a93e3_t.jpg’, ‘3.1444′);

View Creeva’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

My Family Doesn’t Get This

My family doesn’t really realize why I write online. It’s kind of a foreign concept to them that people want to share their thoughts online and be open and expressive. I guess they should have realized something was odd about when I had my first poem published when I was 15 or 16 (It was one of those stupid poetry contests where they sell you the book at the end – I didn’t buy the book – but hopefully I’m in the library of congress because of it).

I followed up on my high school class of Creative Writing with a follow up being an independent study (i.e. on your time no class time devoted) of Creative Writing 2. Mr. Schroeder was my teacher for both of those years. I had his wife in middle school a few years previous and I can say he was a much better teacher. He would take my work give me suggestions and help me improve upon my writing in different ways. With possibly the exception of band these two classes were the greatest of my high school career. The rest of the first creative writing class thought I was a brown noser – I was just really interested and Mr. Schroeder helped foster that.

I went away to college taking creative writing as a major. Ironically college and I didn’t see eye to eye on a few things and we parted our separate ways after one year. My writing which happened occasionally slowly fell off. I would write occasionally here and there but most the time it was just the start of things. I would wake up in the middle of the night and just had to write something down on paper. It was an obsession. I would get down on paper what I could go back to bed and not think about it anymore.

I had attempted a couple runs at national novel writing month but I did not manage to complete those attempts. This year however in November, no matter how crappy it is, I am going to pump out my first novel. I’m not sure yet if I’ll publish it online, that way remain to be seen by exactly HOW CRAPPY IT IS. Hopefully it will be good enough that I can repackage it and release under the creative commons license since I know full well it won’t be good enough for commercial sale. I can only hope that when I do get a novel done that is good enough; pointing to previous work could help grease those wheels in the future.

As you can see from what I’ve discussed, writing traditionally has been an important part of my life. It started so I could romance a girl and I realized I had a talent to some extent for it. Maybe it’s just my ignoring of criticism. I hope my writing does not come out like the girl who can’t hold a note at a college frat party that gets up drunk and naked on the pool table in the frat house. The only reason they endure her singing is because she is naked – I am fully clothed. If I was naked however I don’t even think you have made it this far into reading.

Blogging for the most part allows me to give a purpose to myself and my writing. I’m hoping it hones it just a bit more as I get back into practice and do more of it. We shall see. Until then it’s a diversion and a personal entitlement that can confuse those that don’t understand.

For the one person out there that can kind of understand – she can remain bemused.

My Family Doesn’t Get This

My family doesn’t really realize why I write online. It’s kind of a foreign concept to them that people want to share their thoughts online and be open and expressive. I guess they should have realized something was odd about when I had my first poem published when I was 15 or 16 (It was one of those stupid poetry contests where they sell you the book at the end – I didn’t buy the book – but hopefully I’m in the library of congress because of it).

I followed up on my high school class of Creative Writing with a follow up being an independent study (i.e. on your time no class time devoted) of Creative Writing 2. Mr. Schroeder was my teacher for both of those years. I had his wife in middle school a few years previous and I can say he was a much better teacher. He would take my work give me suggestions and help me improve upon my writing in different ways. With possibly the exception of band these two classes were the greatest of my high school career. The rest of the first creative writing class thought I was a brown noser – I was just really interested and Mr. Schroeder helped foster that.

I went away to college taking creative writing as a major. Ironically college and I didn’t see eye to eye on a few things and we parted our separate ways after one year. My writing which happened occasionally slowly fell off. I would write occasionally here and there but most the time it was just the start of things. I would wake up in the middle of the night and just had to write something down on paper. It was an obsession. I would get down on paper what I could go back to bed and not think about it anymore.

I had attempted a couple runs at national novel writing month but I did not manage to complete those attempts. This year however in November, no matter how crappy it is, I am going to pump out my first novel. I’m not sure yet if I’ll publish it online, that way remain to be seen by exactly HOW CRAPPY IT IS. Hopefully it will be good enough that I can repackage it and release under the creative commons license since I know full well it won’t be good enough for commercial sale. I can only hope that when I do get a novel done that is good enough; pointing to previous work could help grease those wheels in the future.

As you can see from what I’ve discussed, writing traditionally has been an important part of my life. It started so I could romance a girl and I realized I had a talent to some extent for it. Maybe it’s just my ignoring of criticism. I hope my writing does not come out like the girl who can’t hold a note at a college frat party that gets up drunk and naked on the pool table in the frat house. The only reason they endure her singing is because she is naked – I am fully clothed. If I was naked however I don’t even think you have made it this far into reading.

Blogging for the most part allows me to give a purpose to myself and my writing. I’m hoping it hones it just a bit more as I get back into practice and do more of it. We shall see. Until then it’s a diversion and a personal entitlement that can confuse those that don’t understand.

For the one person out there that can kind of understand – she can remain bemused.

I managed to convince someone to marry me.

This is part of my life notes series.

Though I’m writing this 9 years and 8 days after the actual event. Most of it still sticks out on my mind.

I had purchased a second hand suit and she wore a simple dress (she rarely wears dresses). We had arranged a few weeks before to go down to the Elyria City Offices for our marriage certificate and managed to get up and around to go to the mayor’s office. Ironically getting married by the mayor had it’s unique appeal, few people did it, we managed to keep our ceremony private, and it’s gives it the old time feel of years gone past.

A snow storm had just managed to role into town the wind was piercing through our clothes, but we persevered in the journey. I make it seem like it was far, but it was a 5 minute drive. Mayor Davis of Vermilion did the honors. The one thing we didn’t know before hand is that the mayor was blind as a bat. We manage to get to the office and his secretary shows us in, it seems the mayor hadn’t done too many weddings.

He put on glasses that were about a half an inch thick and read the ceremony from preprinted pages. While I’m sure most mayor’s would read from a book, most books don’t have lettering that was almost an inch in height. At the end of the ceremony we kissed, paid our fee to the mayor and thanked him for his time.

We went over to my parents to announce that we were official and then off to her parents to do the same. Some of our friends thought she was pregnant, but those are the type of rumors that generate when you grow up in a small town. I was 22 years old and she was 19 so by modern standards we were both married young. We were married happy though.

I did manage to carry her across the threshold of the door. Which that night we left on a piss poor honeymoon. I was solely to blame, but we were broke and managed the best we could.

Every day of my life I would do this again.

My brother is born

Since my brother routinely reads this searching for notes about himself. I’m sure he would be amused that I capture his birthdate into my blog.  This would be start of a few decades of disagreements on life and personal beliefs.