Happy 50th Posting!

I always do this,  it's been a month again.  And SO MUCH has happened.  It's been a roller coaster.  I went to Minnesota to our cabin.  And to the MN state fair.  I was brave, I was sad, I reconnected with one of the best friends I've ever had (no rhyme intended) and I grew as a person.   And yes those are all grouped together for a reason.  Dad and I got swimmers itch or chiggers or something. Saw family I only see a couple times a year (and I think got closer to them as well).  More specific details of trip to come (I hope).  Or I'll be lame again and not post anything for a month.  Only time will tell.

Today, I write.

Clearly, I don't write often enough.  Not for my own satisfaction at least.  I want to tell stories of my day, my week, my month...you get the idea.

July shot by.  The 4th was...eventful.  I was in Marquette.  A parade.  The beach. Fireworks.  All interlaced with other things. New friends and old friends.  Drama.

And then I was off to Minnesota for a weekend.  I needed that SO much.  Back to the lake.  To the cabin.  To where I can forget everything else for a few days and just enjoy the water and the sun and my family (and a few friends when I can, when they are available).

Oh and I'm single now.  Actually, really, single.  I don't know what to feel yet. It's been a few months now - the summer - and I still don't know what to feel.  And we aren't really talking...not much.  I just don't know how to handle it.  My best friend has been ripped out of my life like a band-aid.  A particularly sticky band-aid at that.  One that leaves a residue that takes a few days to really go away.  Except it's been longer than days.  The only real way I can deal with it is to not think about it.  Prioritize other things.


But I'm healing.  Hanging out with friends. played Frisbee yesterday here at home and a few times throughout the summer in Marquette.  The other day, I went swimming in the river with two friends who are sisters.

It's funny how we use the term friends sometimes.  We do have friends, of course.  People we see all the time, or at least keep in contact with.  But then there are people we hardly talk to that we still label as friends.  They are more like people we acquire into our lives.  Sometimes we talk to them and sometimes we don't.  But these two - these sisters - are old friends.  We may not keep in touch as much as good friends do, but we go way back.  A friendship rooted in upbringing and beliefs and comradery.  I call them friends.

Your's In Writing

The Case of...

This is something I wrote back in high school.  I wanted to try my hand at writing something Sherlock-like.  I titled this "Chapter One with the intention to write a whole story but never could think out a whole plot.  This kind of works as a short though.  And perhaps, it could serve as a prompt for anyone out there who wants to take on the challenge.

*No copyright infringement intended!*
 

The Case of…

Chapter One

       It has been said that “Home is where the heart is.” I found that true for the mind also as well when one of my evening walks took me down Baker Street and to the address of my old quarters in apartment 221b. My friend had taught me well for as I climbed the stairs I counted them without a second thought; seventeen exactly.

         As I reached the top of the staircase Mrs. Hudson was just exiting the room.

“Hello Dr. Watson! It is so good to see you.”

“Hello Mrs. Hudson. How is he?” I asked motioning towards the door.

“Oh he’s fine but you know how he is when he has a case.”

I certainly did. For those years that we roomed together I was the audience to a great many eccentricities that my friend possessed. I entered the room with caution but despite Mrs. Hudson’s warning, Holmes was in a rather cheery mood and was delighted to see me.

“Watson old boy, how are you?”

“Splendid Holmes” I replied.

“And how’s the work around the house? Also, I expect your garden is coming along nicely.”

         I was astonished. I had indeed been doing some housework of late but I had neither seen Holmes nor told him about it by post.

“Yes but how…”

“Simple” chuckled Holmes. “Aside from the obvious fact that your face and hands are sunburned showing that you’ve been out in the sun for an extended period of time, your hands are calloused. With little exception, calloused hands suggest rigorous work. Being that I haven’t seen you for several weeks in this part of town I guessed you were doing just that but I dared not stop there for I had insufficient evidence.  Upon further inspection of your hands I was able to detect the collection of dirt underneath your fingernails. This strongly suggested to me that, going with the notion of housework, you were perhaps gardening or doing landscaping of some kind. Gardening seemed the more likely of the two seeing as the ideal harvest time is only a month away.

“Amazing Holmes, once you’ve explained the whole thing, it all seems so obvious.”

         “Quite so Wats…” he began to say but was interrupted by voices in the hallway.

         “I must see Sherlock Holmes!” screamed one voice.  It was a male’s; baritone in pitch yet noticeably older for it had a gargling quality to it.  “I must see him!” hollered the voice again.

         The owner of the voice bolted through the door panting.  He was a tower of a man with broad shoulders and a prominent chin wearing a well-tailored suit, a top hat and suede shoes; he was followed by Mrs. Hudson, the owner of the other voice.

         “I told him not to barge in like that”, said she.

         “That is quite alright Mrs. Hudson”, replied Holmes.  “Sir, what is the matter?”

         This was directed, of course, at our guest who tried to answer but before he could, collapsed on the floor.  Like lightning, my medical skills came though. 

         “Pulse…good.  He’s breathing.  All his vitals are good.” 

         Mrs. Hudson and Holmes joined me and together, wrestled his enormous build over to the couch. 

“Mrs. Hudson, the brandy”, said Holmes.  She was back in a flash from the armoire with just that and gave it to the man which brought him around instantly.  He coughed on the dryness of it.

         After our visitor had a chance to catch his breath, Holmes again inquired as to the nature of the problem.

         “He’s after me Mr. Holmes, he’s after me.”

         “Who’s after you?”  I asked.

         “Professor Moriarty.  He’s trying to kill me.”

         But he’s—“

         “Dead” finished Holmes.

Too Late

Yet another short short from one of my English classes.  As I post each of these, I keep wishing I had posted them sooner after they were created.  Oh, well.  What's important now is that I'm getting my writing out there and continuing to practice writing.

Too Late

-->

I panicked.  I was falling at an alarming rate.  Not a surprising rate mind you, there is a difference.  Surprising would imply that I was unaware of how fast I would be falling, on the contrary.  I was falling just as fast anyone else who had just been pushed out of an airplane would fall.  It was alarming because I had now been falling for a good two minutes and my parachute was malfunctioning…rather inconveniently I might add.

Pull yourself together Darin.  The ground isn’t that close, there’s plenty of time…suuuurrreee.  It was surprising, not alarming, that I could form coherent thoughts in this particular predicament that I was in, but I wasn’t going to complain.  The ground, in all reality, was coming up a little faster than I would have liked but gravity does it’s own thing and doesn’t exactly obey my command.  As handy as controlling gravity’s force on me would be, the laws of physics were never my strong suite and I don’t think that would work very well.

I pulled again at the cord that was designed to release the parachute from its pack, but to no avail.  Ok, I wasn’t panicking. I couldn’t afford to do that, but I also couldn’t ignore the fact that the ground wasn’t getting any farther away.  I tried the cord one more time and felt it finally give but while I was pulling at the cord the ground had snuck up on me.  It was too late.  My world went black.

I pulled off my goggles, turned off the simulator, and sighed.  Maybe next time.

The Creature

This is an assignment from one of my writing classes at Northern Michigan University.  It was originally unnamed, I think out of haste for turning it in.  Upon going over it again, I think an apt title, as any, should have something to do with a key part of the story.  This isn't always the case but is probably a good rule of thumb to go by here.  I may change it later if I think of a better name but for now, enjoy the story as:

The Creature

by 

Teddy Izzo

10/26/10

It had now been two hours.  Everything he had slaved over up until this point was now going to pay off.  Allan peered down the mansion’s stairs in wait for the creature to ascend them.  Everything was in place.  The trap was set.  Somehow he had managed to construct the thing without the monster finding him but none of that mattered now.  Allan crouched down near the wall and waited and listened.  For twenty minutes he waited and listened.  After ten of them, he began to get nervous.

            The bait was nearly perfect, he thought.  Perhaps I didn’t use enough.  No, no.  I took careful precaution.  He assured himself that everything was in its proper place.  After all, it had to be.  He had made sure it was.   He wiped the sweat from his brow. The second ten minutes past.

            This can’t be!  Where is the horrible thing?  Just then, he felt something drip down his neck.  He spun around.  IT WAS BEHIND HIM!  The creature that he had been waiting and listening for, for over a half hour plus the hour on top of that, the very thing that he had been watching for, was watching HIM!

            How long, wondered Allan as his body quivered.  How long has it been watching me?  It must have been watching me construct the trap.  The whole time it must have been watching me.  Of course it was.  It always watches me.  It’s always there.

            He distanced himself from it for a moment, long enough to take in the full sight of the beast.  It was horrible to look at.  He could scarcely bare to glance at it and yet he couldn’t take his eyes away.  He hurriedly backed up to increase the distance between them but it followed.  And then, Allan’s world fell beneath him.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Red and blue lights flashed through the front doorway as they made their circles on top of the county sheriff’s car outside.  Just inside was the sheriff himself accompanied by a couple of uniforms and the county coroner.  The coroner was knelt down next to a body on the floor at the base of the stairs.

            “What’s the damage,” asked the sheriff.

            “A dozen broken ribs, his left shoulder is dislocated and he’s bleeding out of his ear.”

            “Well he took quite a tumble.  That’s a staircase and a half there.” 

            “It is but that’s not what he died from.  Fright was what killed him.  These are merely the injuries he sustained on the way down.

            “I wonder what scared him so much.”

            “Who knows?” As he said that, a fourth officer came down the stairs wearing a deputy’s badge and joined them.  The sheriff looked at him and asked, “Find anything of interest?”

            “Not much,” replied the deputy.  “There’s some rig up there.  Looks like a trap of some kind.”

            “Anything else?”

            “There’s nothing else up there but a leaky water pipe high on the wall.”  The deputy stuffed his fists in his jacket pockets in dramatic resolution.

 “Heck of a way to go,” said the coroner looking up the staircase.

“Agreed,” replied the sheriff.  “Come on boys, let’s go.”

At that, the two uniforms moved the body on a gurney and brought him out to an ambulance waiting outside, with the rest following behind.

Oops, I did it again.

Once again it has been too long since I've written last.  Let's see...

I graduated on the 5th of May, moved home on the 9th and am now looking for a job or two to save up some money to move back to Marquette.  I love it up there.  I love home too but for some reason I've just adopted Marquette.  I get all excited for my future when I'm up there.  Even if that's not where my future will be.  I don't know.  I hope it is.  At least part of it.  I know the last five years have gone by in a flash.

I'm going over some of my writings from all my writing classes.  I should have been uploading them all along but again, I get distracted and then out of the discipline of posting.  As always, it is my hope that I can get back into it again.

I DID get a job in Marquette.  Part time, but it's something.  I can't move up there yet because I won't be making enough to afford an apartment AND everything else I'll need to be spending money on.  But it's a step in the right direction.  Maybe if I can get another part-time job here at home and then commute, I can save up enough money to move up there in the fall.

I've been visiting.  About an average of once a week.  A day here, a few days there.  It's been nice.  I miss living there and I look forward to the potential of living there again in the near future.  For now though, I am enjoying my time here at home.

In other news, I'm writing more.  Not on here of course though I would like that to change!  But I've been writing here and there.  Now I just need to do that with videos.  Especially videos seeing as that's what my degree is in.

Anyway, that's all for now.  Off to Marquette in the morning for a visit/work training.  Going to watch Torchwood, fold laundry and go to bed.

It's been too long!

A significant amount has happened since I last wrote.  Suffice it (for now) to say that things are changing in my life and just when I think I know what's going to happen, something else does entirely.  But all I can do is "keep trucking".

To the future, I'm looking for an apartment and (possibly) a roommate.  And of course, a job.  I budgeted out what I would need.  If I worked 40 hours a week at at least minimum wage, I'd make enough after groceries and such to afford rent up to 400-500.  600 if I don't ever want to have any spending money, which of course, isn't the case.

But before all that, there's still a month left in this semester.  And a lot to get done at that.  And all I can do is take it one thing at a time.