Insomnia: Episode II

Why don't we appreciate the things that we have? I was going to rant about that but I lost my train of thought. I've been doing that a lot lately. I would say it's because I'm getting old but then all my elders would chuckle and say wait until you get to my age. That's something my grandpa used to say to my dad who now says that to me. Speaking of my Grandfather, he's in the hospital for some improper brain activity. An incident that I won't go into here happened at a restaurant yesterday. Well I guess I can't really leave it at that can I...

The story starts yesterday. My parents were going to come up for the choir concert that I was in last night. Our portion of the concert, as there was other groups performing, consisted of three new songs that we had not yet performed to this date. The were on there way out of town and on the phone with me when my dad decided that he didn't like the conditions that the roads were in: wet. It was 33 degrees outside and the second it dropped one they would freeze in an instant. This is unlike his usual attitude of "Eh. It'll be fine." The roads, by the way, ended up being fine on the way here according to other people that I know that drove up. Regardless... My parents apologized for changing their minds which of course if understood (and it turned out to be a good thing that they did). Instead they ended up eating brunch with my grandparents. My grandparents were not aware that my parents were coming but we often meet up with them on Sundays after church, announced or otherwise. It's sort of an open standing invitation.

And here's where, as much as I would have liked my parents to come to see the concert, I was glad that they stayed back. They got off the phone with me as they were sitting down to order their food. No sooner had the food come than my grandpa's speech began to slur, something he didn't think was happening to him. Fast forward through the meal and some minor embarrassing details and stop at the Veterans Hospital where they discovered that a particular sac that we have at the front of our brains that is normally unobtrusive was putting pressure on the front of his brain, specifically, the lobe that controls speech and motor functions. Needless to say my grandmother was glad that my dad had been there. Either that was a very fortunate coincidence or it was a God thing. And as I like to say: I don't believe in coincidences.

They were going to send him down to Milwaukee but that wouldn't have been until today. Flying him to Madison was another option, but was voted down for reasons I can't remember. And so now the only place that could do tests on him the soonest and was the nearest via convenient travel was Marquette Hospital. He's up and talking now but they're keeping him there for observation. I plan to call him if not go see him tomorrow.

I think maybe I remember where I was going with my initial question. Except instead of things, replace with people. Why don't we appreciate the people we have. So much of the time, we are trying to meet new people, interesting people, important people, people with stories to tell. Granted that's not a bad thing, but half the time, those people that we're spending so much time looking for, like say a seasoned war veteran that has novels' worth of stories to tell about himself, his father and countless others, someone like my Grandpa, are right under our noses...and we need to look, be thankful and appreciate them before it's too late.

Goodnight and happy early Thanksgiving,

Your's In Writing

Yes, I'll have a side of Insomnia please...

It's been a hectic weekend. Two birthday parties to go to and two projects and three poems to work on. I'm sure you can figure out what got done and what didn't. I'll give you three guesses. The frustrating thing is I had plenty of time for everything on my plate. After three years of college (I am finding that hard to come to terms with) I still suck at time management. And once again, hindsight kicks in and I realize and recognize all the different times throughout the weekend where I could have done this differently or if I had only done this instead then I wouldn't have been here doing that and would have had time for the other thing...so many what if's and could have beens.

The first birthday celebration was at Red Lobster where we again had the comedian waiter. Of course I haven't written about him before this point and so for me to say that we had him again is understandably confusing for whomever may be reading this that wasn't a part of the experience. Perhaps I will write about him some other time. For now suffice it to say that his name was Jack and that this was the second time in a row being at Red Lobster that we had him as our waiter. One of the birthday girl's friend was a redhead named Amy. She also went by Amelia and it made me thing of Amy Pond from Doctor Who. AND this Amy from the party was a Doctor Who fan. The food was good, as it should be at such a fine eating establishment, and somehow, while dining at a seafood restaurant, I managed to avoid eating any seafood.

The second was at Applebee's a day later. My dinner was delicious (and will be too; I still have some left over in the fridge). Afterwards, we went to the birthday girl's apartment where her roommate had made a cake that really has to be experienced rather than read about. My attempt at an explanation, which is doing the cake no justice mind you, is that it is (this too I have a large piece of in the fridge) a layer cake. Four layers alternating chocolate batter and Oreo. I knew not of the existence of such a cake as the latter. But's it's combination with the former made one awesome cake. I resisted quoting the song "Still Alive." I really wanted to...but I didn't do it. Just so you know.

I can't sleep. So I'm writing. I should be writing poems for English. But what will I write about? Reply with any suggestions. They are welcome.

There are so many things I want to put down here. So many thoughts trying to break free. They don't all make it in here though. Some are elsewhere in journals and such, and some are in stories I've written for classes, and others still are lingering in minds of my friends and acquaintances to whom I pour out my soul. But they don't all make it here. They are edited, it seems, as they come to the top of my brain. Like a book before it's published or an essay before it's handed in. That's the writer in me I guess, wanting it to be perfect, wanting what I tell you to be perfect. I want to tell you, part of me does at least, of what I think others think of me, of my self loathing that eats away at me slowly over time like termites on a hard piece of oak or moths on an old sweater that's been improperly wrapped and stuffed in the back of a closet to be pulled out and worn at a later date. Instead I write to you of procrastination and of birthdays and insanely delicious cake.

Wow...I got really deep for a minute there. That felt good...it's been a while.

I'm going to try and go to sleep now. I won't right away; that's a given. I'll lie there for a while because I'm still not tired. This is my own fault of course. It's what happens when you drink an energy drink with the intention of staying up to work on homework and then deciding after the fact that you've done all there is to do and that you're going to go to sleep anyways. Perhaps a game of Bejeweled will fatigue my eyes enough to coax me into dreamland. If I am blessed enough to dream. I always consider that a blessing. What will most likely happen is sleep will come, and then I will awake and it will be time to get ready for class. There will be a sense of the passage of time but that will be it. No dreams. No adventures. But I pray that I will dream and be whisked away for a few hours to the land of my subconscious where I will be whatever it is that my mind has made up. Last night for a time, I was a detective investigating a murder. Maybe tonight I'll travel in time and space in a little blue box, or maybe I'll solve world hunger. Who knows? Maybe......I'm starting to feel sleepy now. Just a little bit but it is just enough. Goodnight and pleasant dreams.

Always,

Your's In Writing

O' clock

This was an in class exercise to kick off the poetry section of EN215.

O’Clock

O’clock is my name; I’m Irish by birth.

I lead quite a boring life for what it’s worth

I tell you the time, every hour and minute,

Tis boring, you see, either which way you spin it,

You see me tick tock but you don’t always listen,

And when you run late, how your forehead does glisten

But I’ll wait here all day; cause time’s all I’ve got.

And if you listen to me you’ll arrive on the dot.

Just ticking and tocking all night and day long

Now comes the end of my tick-tocky song,

So please don’t forget me up here on the wall

As I tick and I tock and I tell time for all.

By: Teddy Izzo

English 215-The first story of the semester.

I think this is going to be a fun semester. I don't have a lot of experience in writing in the genre of poetry nor script writing so it should be a nice challenge. Those are two of the genres this class covers. The others, fiction and nonfiction, I am slightly more well versed in and look forward to honing my skills in. I'm am most excited for the Drama and Script writing portion of the class. This is something that I hope will come in handy assuming I ever make it into the filming industry.

But never mind all that. Our first assignment of the class aside from reading the intro's to our two books, was writing a diagnostic piece of sorts. This is mine. I started out with the first sentence that seemingly popped into my head at random. I now believe it was destiny. Not the "chosen one" kind of destiny of course but I think don't believe that it was random. The first sentence initially read, "It was the fifth day of this crap." It eventually changed, as did the rest of the piece, "day" being replaced by "week" and then to what it is now changing tenses somewhere in there.

The whole thing isn't very long but it wasn't supposed to be necessarily. Maybe I'll make this a regular thing, posting stories in here. I guess maybe that's cheating since it's something previously written but I think it will encourage me to write more...maybe...

Anyways, without further ado, my short, short story. I hope you enjoy :D

It is now the fifth month of this crap. I’m not sure how much longer I will be able to take it. I mean what kind of a place was this? It was the same thing all day, every day. I woke up, sat around for a while, read or re-read my latest issue of reader’s digest, (I didn’t know you could get magazines in here) go to the cafeteria to eat whatever meal it was time for, go out for my hour in the yard, (an hour and a half if you were lucky) and then back to my impossibly small room. At first I tried to do pushups but then realized that I was horribly out of shape and couldn’t do them, so I would go back and lie on my bed and read the paper, of which, I also had a subscription.

For the most part, the rest of my inmates were nice. There were a few, however, that you just didn’t go near. Those were usually the ones that had been in here longer than the rest. The newbies who tried to talk to them were snarled at. I have made a few friends during my time here. We’d have Chess tournaments or shoot hoops out in the yard. These were the highlights of my stay.

Today I was told I had a visitor. This, I am excited for. I have been brought out into the commons area where some of my inmates are playing chess, and where people on the outside are allowed to visit with those on the inside. I’m sitting at a table, gray like the rest of the room. I glance at the gray clock on the wall and it’s been five whole minutes and finally my visitor arrives. It’s my youngest son.

“Hey Dad,” he says with a smile on his face.

I don’t say anything back but my face lights up and he can tell that his presence has made my day.

“Are they treating you alright in here,” asks my son as he looks around the room. This is the first time he’s been in here. He has been away at college or he would have visited sooner.

I nod.

“How’s the food?”

“Eh,” I reply and hold up my hand, palm level with the table and rock it side to side..

“So-so?”

I nod.

“We’re trying to get you out of here Dad; Mom’s going stir crazy at the house without you. They say your doing well and if you keep it up, they might let you out early.” This is something that I’ve heard from each visitor that I’ve had but it does him good to hear himself say it. And he’s right. I just don’t know how soon that will be.

“Time to go, visiting hours are over.” This is from my guard. His uniform is clean and has been recently pressed. My son gets up, a sad look on his face.

“We’ll get you out of here soon Dad,” He says as he leaves.

My guard follows him out and an almost identical one replaces him. This new one has a silver tray with a bottle of water and a small paper cup.

“Time for your meds Mr. Higgins,” says the new nurse. I stare back with a disgruntled look on my face. But he returns the same glare.

“Come on, Doc says one more week and then he’ll take you off to see how you do.” At this, I cave and take my pills, if only to get me out of here quicker. I hate nursing homes.

Writing: Creative vs. Intellectual

Second day of classes. Second day of english. We discussed the idea of whether or not Writing, as a subject, can be taught or if it is something that is inherently imbedded in us and is either there or isn't.

So what is writing? Is it just the rules? Is it the creative process? Is it something we all have and it just needs to be unveiled? Or is it something only a privileged few of us have. The opinions were somewhat weighted to one side. It was largely thought among the class that writing could not be taught...That you can learn the mechanics of writing and the rules of writing but that the creative process can't be taught. It has to be absorbed and or created...absorbed by reading other authors and mimicking or avoiding their styles and created as one thinks and reflects on those thoughts, expressing inner emotions. This is somewhat along the lines of how our teacher summed up the classes ideas.

I agree with this for the most part. I say "for the most part" because it seems like writing is a little of both and not just one or the other. A mutual symbiosis between the intellectual and the creative. Perhaps not the best explanation of the different aspects of writing but I feel that it gets the main point across. An analogy I thought of in class only when it was too late was that of Life itself. After all, what is living? Is it inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide for the purpose of fueling our cells with energy to make us go? Or is it growing up, getting a skinned knee, going to school, having a first kiss, graduating, going to college, getting a job, having a family, going to France or Italy on vacation and seeing the world... Or is it both? Because there's more to life than just breathing but without breathing, we would have no life. I think that writing is the same.

As you already know, I like-no-LOVE writing and is, to me, just as important as breathing, so the analogy was a natural one. I just wasn't quick enough. But to continue and recap, writing is something that fuels me just like oxygen. It's oxygen for my soul I guess.

Your's IN Writing.

My summer in review-Part 2

I didn't end up taking that shower and I didn't make it to work till a little after two but that's okay. Now let's see, where was I...ah yes.

Towards the end of the third week of working on the playground set thingy, I got a call from someone I know that I have a class with. He had just recently acquired a job, needed another person, and knew that I was looking for work.

"I have a job for you" says he.

We talked on the phone for a bit and I said I'd try it out. We would be cleaning the local movie theaters. The hours were crappy but the money was good. I said I'd do it and went in the day after. We just did the theater downtown to start with and then added the bigger one over on the highway a couple nights later. We had leaf blowers that blew all of the popcorn and whatever else was on the floor to the front of the room. At the bigger theater, we used one that went on your back and reminded me of the Proton Packs from Ghost Busters. After about a week, He took the larger theater and I took the smaller one. He was going to be staying on and I would be quitting once school began in the fall. There is no way I would be able to have classes on and off from 10-4 work my job at school AND work at the theater. I'd never sleep and my grades would suffer. Working at the theater was a wonder opportunity but it would have to be temporary. Today is Sunday, Tuesday night will be the month mark and will be my last night. I have a quick stint at Laptop distribution and then back as a Deskie.

It's interesting though. I half suspect that the theater is Haunted. But then I don't know if i believe in ghosts. I do believe in spirits, evil and good, though I don't know why either would be chilling in movie theater. The Delft is pretty old though. It was remodeled once or twice but that was a long time ago so that's old too now. It's mostly just noises from the ice machine in the lobby to the air vents in the theaters kicking in. Then there's the occasional muscle car outside with the bass cranked up as it's leaving the bars, rattling the buildings as it goes by. The power did flicker on me once as I was reaching for the breaker to close up for the night but it only happened once. As tough as the hours are and despite the eerie feeling I get when I go in the upstairs projector room, I'm going to miss the place.

Working at the theater has given me an idea for a suspense movie for when I become a writer/producer some day (I hope). I won't disclose the idea here because I don't want anyone to take it. Not that anyone actually reads my blog aside from my one follower as of present (thank you by the way :D ) and then anyone who I show it too. But still, ya can't be too careful these days. :P

Once again, summer has gone by horribly fast. I need to get out more. Go swimming, jogging, biking. I keep saying I'm going to but I never do. I've been biking but I don't know if that counts because it's to and from work. I did go swimming the other day that I will save that adventure for another time. Time to relax a few hours before work...although I've been relaxing all day so I don't know why I need to relax anymore than I already have. Perhaps I just said that to make a better ending to this blog rather than stopping it cold...

Your's In Writing

My summer in review-Part 1

Did somebody say it's August?

I'm beginning to wonder if I should have called my blog something having to do with some sort of pun on how time goes by so fast, because despite my early (and continued) ambitions about blogging, I can't seem to be as diligent as I planned. The last time I wrote, it was June. Now here it is two months later and school has almost begun.

A few things have happened since June. For starters, July happened. No I didn't say that in attempt to be funny although I won't complain if it brought a chuckle or two. My girlfriend and I went down to Marquette's Lower Harbor and watched the fireworks which were spectacular. There was a chance we weren't going to go because the clouds in the sky looked grim and it had begun to precipitate. The rain stopped just in time though. It was as though it was hanging around until the fireworks started and then stopped especially for them. While we were walking around before the show started, we ran into a couple people that she, and or, I knew. One was my friend Andy and his brother Ben. I know him from back home but have been out of contact for a while. It's nice to know that there are people that you can be out of contact with but are the type of friend that you can just pick right back up with. We did just that. He said that he was spending the summer here with his sister and that he too was looking for work.

About a week or so later, I got a call from someone a few blocks away who need help building something. Earlier that summer, Christy and I had put my name on the temporary student employment list. This is where I had gotten the call from. The "something" was a medium sized play-scape (the only real way to describe it because it had everything from all the usual play set items to a picnic table and a small climbing wall). My temporary employer asked me to come alone the first day and see how long it would take me and what kind of help I would need and then to come with them the next day. My first thought was Andy. I called him.

The first day, I went on my own and met the couple. They were really nice! They had five kids all under the age of 8. Three were there's and two were adopted but they were all very nice and visited the ongoing project frequently. I also sorted wood so that finding it would be easier when construction began. The next day Andy and I went and started piecing together the four tightly packed boxes of wood that were laying in wait for us in he garage. It was a great experience working with this long lost friend of mine. It was definitely God bringing us together to work. We'd quote movies, and talk about the old days and be silly in general.

It ended up taking as about three weeks to finish the thing due to both of us having classes with homework. We weren't professionals by any means and the final product wasn't perfect but our clients were more than happy to have it done. Another reason for the delayed completion was that by the end of the third week, I was blessed with another job. I'll save that for for later. Andy left on the fourth of August, and so that was my July. I ended up getting an A in Biology. After those six weeks were up, I started Mythology and Good Books in which I received a B+ and an A- respectively. It all went by terrible fast but I'm glad I did it because it raised my GPA and It got me to read some books I wouldn't have normally read. That too, I will save for later. Time for me to get some food, cool off with a cold shower (It's soooo hot right now) and get ready for work which today starts at one o'clock, which I guess is technically tomorrow.

Your's In Writing

Woooah Woah, I'm half way th-ere!

It's the sixth of June, which means tomorrow is the first day of week four of summer classes. I have two tests in the next two days. One of them is in Biology Lab tomorrow afternoon and one is in lecture on Tuesday. This class really IS compact! I am literally halfway through the course. Nonetheless, I am doing fantastically...so far.

I am still looking for a job which, by the way, is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be! I've been over hill and over dale and still nothing. I'm waiting to hear back from Kohl's after my interview. Several other places keep giving me the run around.
"No, we're not looking at applications right now." Which is contrary to what someone else told me who was working when had gone in at a different time.
"Well, we are going through applications right now so if we're interested we will give you a call." Basically they told me you'll get an interview if we get to you, but I had already had an interview with this particular company at this point and was checking up to see if they were any closer to picking someone/ was I still a candidate?

It just seems like I'm not supposed to have a job or something. But it feels so right being here so why wouldn't I be able to have a job. I'm beginning to wonder if my "this feels right, I must be on the right path," radar is being interfered with by my "this is what I want but isn't necessarily what I'm supposed to be doing," sensors. Needless to say, I'm worried and I don't know what else to do. First things first: studying, which I am now going to continue to do.

Your's In Writing

A Summer in Marquette

Let's see now, the last time I checked in, I was sitting in english class marveling at how uncanny some things can be. That was exactly two months ago, give or take several hours. I am now done with that class as well as the school year with an overall GPA of 2.71. It was, academically, a wonderful year. I mean I certainly could have done better but I'm proud of that GPA. Under the surface though, there were some things going on at the apartment that got quite out of hand and I know in my heart that it was time for a move. So, I have an apartment across campus now. Sure I gave up airconditioning and ethernet and I'm on the second floor now so it is going to royally stink in the warmer months but it is what I wanted.

Normally, the warm weather wouldn't be a concern and if anything, heat rises, so it will be quite nice in the winter. The thing is, I have decided to take summer classes and so I'm stuck with the heat for a while. Those classes that I am taking are biology with a lab, good books, and mythology. Bio is during the first session of summer, lasting for six weeks which I am in the second week of, and then second session with the other two. The Mythology class is online. Maybe I'm asking for trouble by taking classes in the summer but I have a good feeling about it. In the meantime, I'm looking for a job which is going fairly decent. I haven't got a job yet but I've had a few interviews which is encouraging.

Back to Biology. I have a test tomorrow on five chapters. See, since this class is 6 weeks instead of 14, we go over more material quicker than one might if they were to take the same class with the same teacher during the school year. The main thins I need to know for tomorrow are the different parts of a cell and how and why they work. I actually have a pretty good handle on it and I'm pretty confindent that I am going to do alright. We will see for certain, tomorrow.

And that's my summer. Nothing philisophical this time (we've got the whole summer for that), just a catch up on what has been going on in the past couple of months, well, the cliff notes version anyways, but that's all you really need to know right now. Anyways, It's bloody hot out so I'm going to take a shower to cool off and then I'm going to let my head fall gracfully onto my pillow and drift off to dreamland.

Until next time,

Your's In Writing

What are the odds?

In english class today, shortly after taking my usual seat along the far wall opposite the door, I heard a faint buzzing sound. Normally, buzzing sounds are of no concern to me; white noise, if you will, to the surrounding world, but this one stood out among the others. I almost instantly recognized the sound, but I couldn't be absolutely sure. I had to pinpoint the sound's origin. I saw her; red-haired girl along the windowed wall on the side of the room was holding the device that was making this iconic noise. Not only, was I pleased to discover that my suspicions were correct but also, that I remembered that I had one of the same thing with me at this very moment. I excitedly searched through the pockets of my backpack and upon finding what I was looking for, pulled it out and dramatically pressed the one of the devices two buttons. The girl looked over and laughed and another girl said what are the odds? We were holding sonic screwdrivers.

A Sonic Screwdriver, for those of you who don't know, is from the science fiction show, Doctor Who. Upon the press of either of two buttons, emits a blue LED light and makes a noise that is best described as a combined buzz and whistle. "The Doctor", the main character in the show, has one of these devices and uses if for just about anything and everything from lighting a room, to blowing up bad guys, to opening pretty much any lock in existence.

What are the odds? Two people who recognize each other from class but never talk to each other, having something in common such as this. Actually the odds are most likely pretty good. It's an example, though, of how much we don't talk to and or get to know people that are around us most of if not all of the time, and of how much we tend to take people for granted. I am, sadly, guilty of this. I feel that it's really important to get to know everyone you meet to some degree or another. It may not be a very deep connection, but there should be something there that brings them back for more, so to speak. I guess that sounds a little weird. Let me try a different approach. Too many times, we meet someone in passing. The usual "conversation" goes something like:

"Hi, my name is______. What's your name?"

or if you already know them...

"Hey, how are you today?

"Good, how are you?

"Good."

Sound familiar? These are good conversation STARTERS, but often, this is all of the dialogue that takes place. I feel that we, as people, need to branch out away from our comfort zones and have more of an in depth conversation with people. Find a common denominator. Like with the girl and the sonic screwdriver that I just happen to have one of in my backpack. I need to talk to her about how long she's had hers, which character is her favorite, and if she's excited for the next season. I want to connect with people in this way, randomly and for no apparent reason, more often, and I implore you to do the same.

Your's In Writing