Wednesday, November 12, 2014

My Neighbor's Killer Geese

I used to live in the suburbs, and it took all the kids in the neighborhood about half an hour to walk to school—including me. I lived the furthest away, so for the last five or sometimes ten minutes, I walked alone.

Living in the suburbs was fun. I still remember walking home through country roads or fields, always by myself. I started doing this when I was six years old and began attending senior kindergarten.

Luckily, I was on the second school shift, which meant I didn't have to go to school until as late as 11 a.m. sometimes. I was allowed to sleep in, and I don't remember ever waking up early during my elementary school days.

I know, I know—the story about the killer geese.

Well, my neighbor raised geese for food. They fed them very well, and they grew to be huge. There were always a dozen of them. This was especially intimidating because I was small back then, and these giant geese were let out onto the street to graze on the grass by the side of the road.

They weren’t happy geese. They were grumpy and behaved like dogs, always trying to chase me. They didn’t have babies to protect, so I’m not sure why they targeted me every time I appeared on the horizon.

Just like I avoided bullies throughout my life, I also avoided the geese. I didn’t confront them because it would have been pointless. Instead, I took a different path. Occasionally, I had to face dogs along that route, but that was rare. I also got to see cows who did nothing but stare at me.

In the end, I would arrive home an hour later—not because it actually took that long to get home on my alternate path, but because I was a collector. I’d gather leaves, grass, flowers, and anything else that caught my eye.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

What is Writer's Block? A Paradox Defined

I’m really pulling my brains out today, trying to figure out what to write about. It’s a fact that to get better at writing, I need to practice every day. But today? It’s just not happening. I think I’m experiencing a major case of writer’s block because I can’t come up with a single topic to write about.

"Writer's block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The condition ranges in difficulty from coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce a work for years. Throughout history, writer's block has been a documented problem." ~ Wiki

However, am I really experiencing writer’s block? I’m writing something down, and I’m having thoughts. I think I might be contradicting myself, though. Is writing about having writer’s block actually a form of writer’s block? I think I’ve just discovered a paradox. I’m caught in circular thoughts that aren’t getting me anywhere with my writing—and they’re not getting you anywhere either as you read this nonsense.

"A paradox is a statement that apparently contradicts itself and yet might be true." ~  Wiki

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Keep Up the Great Work

At the dinner table, I found myself looking at Matthew and thinking, Where did the time go? He’s now six years old. It feels like just yesterday when he could barely put two or three words together to form a sentence. Today, he talks like an adult and asks a ton of questions.

Dad, do you know what ‘objective’ means?” Matthew asked.

Tell me, what does it mean?” Dad replied, curious.

Objective means to accomplish something,” he answered, proud of his own definition.

Well done!” we all said.

After dinner, there was one last piece of homework to finish. Every week, Matthew writes about his week at school, and our homework is to write him a reply.

Have fun and keep up the great work,” were the last words in Matthew’s journal.

Oh man, you can’t say that again,” he said after reading it.

Apparently, he takes our journal responses seriously. Telling him to “keep up the great work” every week was starting to stress him out. So, we agreed to switch it up and write that statement every other week.

That’s great, I like that pattern,” he added.


Saturday, November 1, 2014

Flaky Fate

Snow flakes, some
fall down and stay.
Snow flakes, some
fall down and melt.
Snow flakes, some
never reach the ground,