Another Post On My Love Of Books

 I bought a $600 Volvo wagon just before winter storms dumped several inches of snow here in Bloomington, Indiana.

Considering I had spent $500 during the summer to buy a brand-new extra large Schwinn bicycle, I thought the 1999 Volvo was a good buy once I peeped out of my bedroom window the first morning after an overnight snow storm. 

"No riding my bike to work today. Thank God!" The Volvo company was founded in 1927. I looked it up - really, really, really grateful that day.

The wintery weather has abated. My $600 Volvo is still running - despite the arm workout I get every day when I drive it. The power steering is going out. But this post isn't about how grateful I was to have a car during winter. Of course I was. No... this post is about the freedom having a car gave me to drive around my new digs here in Indiana. 

And... more specifically, this post is about how my car allowed me to visit my favorite bookstore: Half-Price Books. 

Here's a little background... Most of my books are in storage in Texas. When I moved to Indiana, I arrived here with one duffel bag of clothes and a backpack with a few magazines, books, journals and pens.

Since I moved to Indiana approximately a week before Covid hit in 2020, I wasn't able to travel back to Texas during 2020. All my favorite books are missing me. And, I have missed them, too.

The first day I drove to Half-Price Books here in Bloomington, I felt like I had returned home. I don't remember how long I spent inside the store. I started from one end of the store and went from section to section scanning book spines, eyeing the displays of featured books and finished at the other end of the store with a stack of books in my arms. 

My biceps, tired from steering my Volvo with the failing power steering, were aching even more from carrying all the hardbacks and paperbacks in my treasure trove of the written word.

Bartlett's Familiar Quotations - $3

The ScrewTape Letters - $1

An Incomplete Education  $1

Just a few titles I picked up that day. I spent less that $20 that day. Every book was either $1 or $3.

So now, I have a library in the making. I am reading... on a budget.

For that, I am thankful for my $600 Volvo. 

Now... I can possibly search the stacks at Half-Price Books and add to my exile library a few titles from 1927, the year Volvo was founded:

Elmer Gantry - Sinclair Lewis

The Story of Philosophy - Will Durant

To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

Bridge of San Luis Rey - Thornton Wilder

Aspects of the Novel - E.M. Forster

At least I can carry all those books now that I workout every time I drive.

Finding Your Voice Again After Life Throws A Monkey Wrench On Your Plans

 It is easier to give up than to persevere. 

But you are better than that. I'm better than that. Despite what life throws at you. I know a little bit about the adversity that can humble even the proudest of human beings. And that would be me.

Proud until I was humbled. Sure... I am to blame for many of my poor decisions... But not all of them. 

I stopped writing when I lost my family. Separation followed by divorce. The creativity stopped. Self-loathing replaced it. Drowning my sorrows in alcohol. My reading stopped. My writing stopped.

Now... here I am... trying to come back. I have loved the written word since childhood.

Yet, I let my life, my circumstances, sabotage my love. Can I rebound? I don't know the answer to that question. But, I am going to try. And, from here on out on this blog, is my journey. 

I hope you will join me - especially if you have been hit by as many fast balls as life has thrown at me.

My voice will ring true once I acknowledge my pain... my suffering... my reality. 

That is the first step towards redemption.

Starting Over: Forgive Yourself For Not Writing

 Today I decided to start over.

It's a refreshing feeling. You know it. Put your failures behind you. Don't forget them. Just stop stressing about them.

Today I let go of the guilt of not writing. Today I decided to write.

I am a writer. I love it. I really do. I love books. I love short stories. I even kind of love poetry - I just can't write it. I love drama. I remember loving to go to the theater and seeing a play - back when we could. Covid sucks.

That is who I am. I am a writer. I must forgive myself for not writing. You must, too, so that you can get back to writing.

Life happens. I got distracted. You get distracted. We are human. I hope I can help you see that we can recover and rekindle the passion we share for writing and the written word.

I hope I will keep writing to this blog tomorrow. If I do, that means I am forgiving myself for neglecting it for so long. It's simply time to write. Time to do what I know I was meant to do... what I know I'm good at doing.

If you need a pep talk, keep reading tomorrow. And if I'm truly starting over and forgiving myself, keep reading the next day and the next day and the next day...

Stop Dreaming Of Being A Writer

Note: I published this originally in 2017 and now am updating it.

So... You work full-time. You are a janitor. You are a teacher. You are a cashier at a grocery store. Or... you're unemployed because of this whole coronavirus mess. As I write this, the Dow Jones Industrial Average sank more than 1,800 points and the S&P dropped 5.9 percent because it looks like a second wave is at hand.

Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. But... when it comes to your dreams of being a writer...

IT DOESN'T MATTER!!!!

If you know in your gut that you are a writer, or have always wanted and hoped to be... You hear the voices in your head. You dream magically amazing stories in your sleep. You wake up and are like, "Damn! I need to write that down!"

Then... just write. Write. Write. Write.

But... you have Debbie Downers in your camp. You share your ideas with those around you. They say, "That's stupid." Here's a secret: It may or may not be stupid, but those doubters around you saying you can't do this are saying it because deep down inside they are jealous of your aspirations. 

What should you do? Ignore them. Listen to me. Writing isn't easy. But if it is what you want to do. If there's a desire burning inside of you, then... write.

Write it down. Write everything you think is important. Write everything you think in the moment. Write. Write. Write!!!!!

I say again: Don't listen to the haters.

Here is the reality. Most people live life unsuccessfully. They believe that they are not one of the lucky ones who get to be a writer, a movie star.... in short... a success.

They settle. Here's what they tell themselves at night before going to bed and contemplate waking up to do everything all over again the same way day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year:

"I need a job. So... this company will give me a job at XX amount of dollars an hour. I need to pay the bills. This is as good as it gets. Let me make sure the alarm is set so I'm not late for work."

Do you want to settle? No, you don't.

Fall into that settling trap and you will never be a writer. You will only be a wage earner. Life is too short to settle.

Don't get me wrong... You must pay the bills... But you don't have to give up your dreams to do it.... 

You may have to find whatever work there is to be had in this new reality. But use that experience for your writing. If you must work at a warehouse, for example, use that time wisely. Do they let you listen to music as you work?

Bag that. Listen to books on Audible or from your library. Learn about the writing craft. Listen to classics of literature and learn from the masters. Carry a pocket notebook and pen. Jot down all your observations that make sense to you. Squeeze every second out of your day to advance your dreams of being a writer.

Bottom Line: ignore everyone who says you can't do it. Even family has questioned my decisions. Maybe yours has too. But... be brave. Follow your dream.

If you need inspiration and hope, then keep reading this blog. If you have questions, feel free to ask. I'm here.

Find Your Passion

So this is my Daily Journal.

As a writer, you should challenge yourself to write every day. Don't feel guilty if you can't. But... if you really want to write, then you will make time.

Case in point... it is nearly 11 p.m. as I write this. I have to wake up at 3 a.m. to go to work. Yeah... caffeine will be my friend tomorrow.

But... I must develop my routine. What does your routine look like? What you should include is introspection. Look inside yourself.

I looked inside myself, and I found it was empty. But not so much anymore. In one of my previous posts, I stated that we are social animals. We need to be connected with other humans. I feel that connection strongly with a particular woman here in Bloomington.

It is really the only reason I am here in Indiana. I'm a proud Texan. Yet... the heart wants what the heart wants. And my heart yearns for her... my beautiful sunflower.

I remember our first conversations. There was an electricity there. I have a stun gun. One day it was in my pocket. Somehow, I accidentally switched it on and I stunned myself. It was shocking! lol. At that moment, I forgot everything.

I was driving in my car at the time. I swerved when the stun gun went off in my pocket. That is how I felt when I met my Bloomington lady. Stunned. I forget the world around me when I'm in her presence. Only she exists. And I only want to exist to please her. That is the moment.

If you want to be a writer, you must feel passionate about something in some way. It is a universal condition. And... if you want to write for an audience, you must tap into that universal condition.

What are you passionate about? What makes your heart stop? What makes you feel passion? I hope you find it. I hope you do. Write about it. Now.

My Daily Journal: My Bicycle and African-American Glory

This wasn't the most exciting day. I spent it mostly alone. Just my Daily Journal...

And, yet, I spent the day reminiscing. I took a bicycle ride through Bloomington. I peddled softly. I measured every rotation of the pedals.

I coasted past the wooden houses on 6th Street. The Near West Side is the moniker for the area. A green wooden sign with golden trim and lettering proclaims the area as; "Living in Diversity Since the 1880's."

That's refreshing since I'm a mutt of an American. Mostly Latino with Native American ancestry. Then there's the German side of me. My only friend here in Bloomington has frequently reminded me about my German heritage now that my hair is growing out. I tend to keep it short... usually. But since the coronavirus lockdown, I haven't been able to get a haircut.

I apparently have German curly hair. I'm ready to chop it off. My hair salon appointment is set for June 10th. I can't wait.

But... so much for that. What did I learn today? Well... I thought about my bicycle. A $500 Schwinn. Incidentally, the Schwinn has a German legacy. Go figure. Ignaz Schwinn was born in Baden, Germany. He later immigrated to the United States in 1891 to do what we all are able to do here: pursue dreams.

Dreams... Yes. America is the place for dreams. This German immigrant, by the way, made a bicycle here in this United States that … wait for it... allowed an African-American to shine in 1896. Yes. way back in the 1800s.

Major Taylor became the first world champion African-American professional cyclist riding a Schwinn bicycle. A few years after 1896, Taylor was dubbed Mile-a-Minute Murphy and the first man - White, Black, Red, Yellow, Green, Purple or whatever - to go 60 mph by bicycle.

Sigh... I wish I could have talked to Major Taylor. I wonder what he might have said about current events.

So... I'm riding along on my German-named bicycle today. I pass the town square. Protestors are still angry. Signs say "Black Lives Matter."

Of course they do. All human being's lives matter. I couldn't help wondering. Ignaz Schwinn was a small business owner when he started. He made a product... that eventually gave a man of color, Major Taylor, an opportunity to shine. Schwinn's life mattered. Taylor's life mattered.

I look at my bicycle now very differently. Yes. It is a Schwinn. German origin. But... now it is an American bike. It has a history. That history includes giving an African-American an unrivaled glory way back in 1896. Go figure. Maybe America isn't so bad, after all.

Traumatic Experiences Are Writing Material

OMG... Life sucks... But... wait.... we can use it as writer.

So... I'm writing... And I have a thought.

I almost died before seeing my 10th birthday. Death. I hate it. Am I the only one who hates Death?  

I don’t think I’m alone. Truly... Even if you won’t acknowledge it. Like me. I won’t accept it. If you are like me. I don’t want to think of death. I Can’t accept it. I refuse. I don’t want to... I want to live forever.  

I want to live forever.  

Alas... I can’t 

And... now... I'm writing page after page... Writing my thoughts. Write through your trauma, too.