Snoots

My supervisor at the “day job” and I have worked together for 2 1/2 years, known each other for at least 2 more years.  I have always known him to be very rigid in his schedule and routine.  He is well-organized, extremely courteous, and to-the-point.

Occasionally, he surprises me with stories of practical jokes he exercised in the past or a conversation about something entirely unrelated to work but overall, a very straight-forward fellow.  He is open-minded, sometimes to a fault, but he gets his work done and relies on others to do the same.

Over the last month, I’ve come to learn that he also writes.  He loves to advocate the rights of people less-literate than him through his writing.  He is a student of grammar and writing styles.  He reads references for fun and he reads plenty of other material, as well.

The point of this little story is that people are people and we all have unique qualities.  Every man or woman comes  across a person here or there that seems clearly readable but unless each example is known intimately, there is always more to learn.

Challenge yourself to learn something new about someone you thought you knew.  You might just be surprised in a good way.  If  you find out they’re axe-murderers, I strongly encourage you to run like hell and forget you ever read this.

Daya Isabella accepts no responsibility for any adverse effects that result from this challenge.  He also will be happy to accept credit for anything good that comes from it.

…not having to say it.

…saying it anyway.

…felt, not touched.

…known when it’s seen.

…infinite.

…unexplainable.

…unjustifiable.

…irrational.

…unstoppable.

…immovable.

…powerful.

…overpowering.

…overcoming.

…overwhelming.

…amazing.

…obvious.

…unexpected.

…right.

…good.

…perfect (for us).

Tonight, I drove by the barber shop at 7:45pm. I planned to get my hairs cut tomorrow but when I saw his door open “after hours,” I decided to stop by. I said, “You’re not really open, are you?” His sign said he was open but he usually leaves around 7:00pm.

He reluctantly told me, “Yeah, come on in.” Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have approached a merchant when I believed they were closed. Don is different. Don, the barber is really a business man that earns money how he can. He’s a skilled barber of over 20 years. He lives 50 miles away in a nice part of Maryland but comes to Prince Frederick because he knows that he’s the best barber in Prince Frederick.

Don doesn’t just sell haircuts. That “gets ‘em in the door.” Don sells advertising to other local merchants on the wall behind the usually occupied waiting chairs. This guarantees at least one set of eyes will view little “mini-billboards” for every haircut-buying visitor. Don also sells swords and knives. I don’t know how many of these swords and knives he sells because in my 25+ visits to Don the barber, I’ve never seen anyone come in looking for a sword. Nevertheless, the small collection takes up a tiny bit of space on the back wall, makes for good conversation, and it occasionally makes Don a few extra dollars. I’ve also seen a few other goodies there on that back wall. For example, once I was there and he had a beginner’s guitar hanging there for $30. It looked like a good deal but at the time, I wasn’t into guitars.

I don’t aspire to be a barber, but I aspire to be like Don in some ways. He works hard, he’s resourceful, and he’s capitalizing on multiple streams of income. I failed to mention, Don owns 3 houses - one in Annapolis, MD where he lives, one in Ocean City, Maryland on the beach, and a farm also on the eastern shore of Maryland. Two of his three houses pay for themselves and he can retire any time he wants.

I want to write, but I’m thinking more and more that writing may be a tool for me in my quest for a way of life. Writing affords one the ability to work in his or her own environment on his or her own terms. Soon, I plan to add some Google Ads in here and perhaps one or two other affiliate programs. It can’t hurt to generate a little revenue for sustenance of this habit, right?

Please, consider what you want out of life and pursue it. There’s no time like the present and none of us know more than the sum of our experiences plus the courage to try something different.

Like Seal said, “You’re never gonna step out - unless you get a little crazy.”

11:56am on March 27, 2007  — It’s my lunch break from my “day job.”  Is there a book called, “So, You Wanna Be a Writer?  Mr. X’s Guaranteed Method to Replacing Your Salary Through Creativity“?

I can write.  I’m sure I can write.  I have tons of stuff that I’m just going to dump in here one day.  More importantly, though, I don’t have a plan.  I have a will to write but what I really would LOVE is a coach or maybe even a leader - a manager, if you will.  I need someone to say, “Here’s a job - pay’s lousy but it could lead to other things.”  Where do I start?  Is there an Idiot’s Guide?  Probably.  I also want it handed to me!  I know, it won’t happen and I’ll never get anywhere with that expectation, right?  How about this:  Tell me where to get started.

I’m starting here.  My work is available here, even if it’s not known.  So, next it must be known.  If anyone has any suggestions, please post them.  Any and all suggestions are welcome and I’ll let the public know what the suggestions are and how I acted or didn’t act on them within 3 days.  That’s what I am offering in return - a direct response to each suggestion - at least until I cry “Uncle.”   I promise, I’ll try to keep Mr. and Mrs. Yeah Buts at bay while I search for success.  Won’t you be a part of my success?

What’s in it for you?  Besides a direct response from a distinguished writer, you may become motivated by my own determination.  You might be a writer and want out of it.  If I can help You in any way, let me know.  I’m a helper.  I believe in networking and I believe in karma.  What goes around comes around.  Interested?  Good.  Not interested?  Thanks for your time!

I was just thinking - what’s an automobile?  Without looking up the definition, I imagine the dictionary says something to the effect of, “a vehicle that is self-powered.”  Just 5 minutes ago, I considered this words’ makeup.  Auto, meaning “self” I guess, and mobile, meaning just that, “mobile.”  If mobile means “movable” or something like that (if you don’t know, I’ve had no formal training and don’t proclaim myself to be a linguist or know latin or anything cool like that) [what a long sentence… start over].

Assuming we have a word that, broken apart, means “self movable,” are we not all automobiles?  Well, all of us other than those not fortunate enough with the ability to get around on our own.  It’s a good thing that insurers qualify what they’re insuring.  By my logic, automobile insurance could take the place of health insurance.  Larger automobiles might warrant higher insurance premiums since they’re more prone to break down.  The newer models are also more complicated.

Traditionally, collision insurance is canceled when the automobile’s value is reduced to less than it’s cost to insure.  And the same goes with comprehensive.  By my new way of thinking, the older automobiles need comprehensive coverage more than anybody.  They will soon be multimobiles (remember, I’m not too good with etimology).

Strangest of all, by my new way of thinking, most automobiles drive cars.  Hmmmmmm.

I got in my car - seems mundane, right?  Can I make a 10 minute trip home sound interesting?  Probably not, but when one actually breaks down the “simplest” experience, the discovery of how much data actually gets processed is fascinating.

Consider that my trip home took place two hours ago.  It began when I took ownership of my steak nachos and headed toward the door.  I was $6.05 lighter and feeling a little guilty about buying dinner since I had plenty of food at home.  I justified it in my mind by acknowledging the absense of someBODY, therefore needing someTHING to take her place.  I proceeded over to the multiple flavors of salsa and hotsauce for my usual medium-temperature sauce.  What??? It was almost empty.  In fact, I got an extra bag of chips just because I had been looking forward to this hotsauce.  I planned to get four little containers’ worth but only managed 3 1/2 before the bowl was completely empty.

Hm.  I didn’t get to the door yet and I’ve exceeded my 100 words by roughly 70 words.  It seems that each line in my editing window is approximately 20 words in length and I’m now on my tenth line (it was the ninth line at 170 words).

Anyway, I did leave after that.  I got in my car, sat the bag of food in the passenger seat, put the key in the ignition, and before turning the ignition, I noticed that two of the hotsauce containers, although covered, were tipped on their side.  We couldn’t have these tipped containers so I righted them up, and finally started my car.  Or did I?

When I turned the ignition, I thought the car didn’t start.  You know how you turn the key and hold it for a few seconds so the engine can start?  Well, after those few seconds, I let off for half of another second but thought it didn’t start so I turned it again.  CCCCCHHHHHHRRRRRGGHHHH!!! I guess it was started already.  The pleasant odor of my newfound dinner must have overpowered my sense of automobilism.

You know what?  We haven’t left the parking lot and already, I think I’ve written close to 350 words about my drive home. You know what else?  I don’t feel like describing the rest of the trip, the feelings I had when the guy with the high-beams turned them to low - how different the two settings of lights were for some reason… I don’t need to write about whether 15mph is too slow for the road on which I live.  I just don’t feel like it.  I feel like writing about the automobile.  See my next Essay on Nothing.

Tomorrow morning, I go back to my “day job.”  Has anyone ever told you, “Don’t quit your day job?”  Most likely, it’s because you’re not seriously considering a change in careers.  What if you were?  What if you were thinking about quitting your “day job” to become that whatever you’ve always wanted to be.  Would they tell you you’re crazy?  Maybe they would.  But you probably know already if you have the talent to do it.  If you want to to replace the daily grind with a daily experience that never ends, what’s stopping you?

What’s stopping me?  I believe in my skills as a writer.  I believe in my ability to write interesting thoughts.  I believe I could take the simplest of concepts or thoughts, and turn it into an essay.  You name the topic, and you name the length.  As a matter of fact, I think I’ll try…

Here’s the thing - I’ve wanted to be a writer for a long time.  I’ve wanted to write about stuff I always assumed nobody cares about.  Now, it seems more and more that I just need to write.  Who cares if others care?  Well, it would be nice to make a living from my writing but even if I don’t, to write is a blessing.  It soothes me.  It’s something that this country’s Freedom of Speech allows me to do about any topic that I choose.  I can take any position, “right” or “wrong” and ellaborate to my heart’s content.  I can piss people off if I want to.  I can praise stupid people, or chastise geniouses (see from my spelling, I’m not a genious).

I always think about Field of Dreams - “Build it and they will come…”  I need to “Write it and they will come.”  Tiresome are the excuses about how hard it is to get started, how much time it takes away from other things in life, or how much money it costs to do that which should be free.  I’m finished with excuses.  If I never sell a dime’s worth of writing, I’ll at least do what I love to do.

I called it “Chronicles of a Confined Writer” but perhaps it’s not a matter of being confined.  Being “confused” is more like it.  It doesn’t take a website, a PC, the internet, or a typewriter to be a writer.  It takes desire, and the will to beat failure.  If I write, I’m successful at writing.  Is this a big, long story about nothing?  No, it’s me getting motivated.

Now, on to writing 100 words about my drive home from Moe’s, the burrito restaurant.

When was the last time you felt pain in the absence of a loved one? When did it physically hurt for them to abstain from your presence? How, please tell, can something so new be forever? It is with sadness that I recall many lingering smiles, glances from her eyes’ corners, and laughs over the phone at all hours of the day and night. I am sad, not because it upsets me, but sad because all these are only memories, if only for the hour.

Is it healthy or even sane to feel this way? I say, “What could be better?” When you love somebody so much that it hurts, you have a gift to behold. The pain experienced over even a short time apart is golden. It serves to reinforce a pure desire and longing for that special someone. If there was doubt before, it’s cast aside. If there was no doubt before and you feel the absence pain, you are still surprised by it. For it would not be pain, were you prepared and confident.

sitting on the river’s edge
waters rolling in
thoughts are running through my head
as beer runs down my chin

she is my new way of life
love is stuck to me
i can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout this girl
wonderin’ who the hell is she?

I, as he, really do not know what it takes to make or be a good writer - all I know is that I want to write and share the experience of writing or “expressing” with others.

Throughout time people of all makings and genders have vented their passions in different ways . . .through music, through building, through words, but what moves me the most, in particular, is the written expression. Even though I must confess that maginificent wonders such as Machu Pichu never cease to amaze me, “writing” never ceases to amaze me either!

I have no formal training whatsoever as a writer, so bear with me here, but, I have always been an admirer of the written thought.
I’ll never forget when, in high school, in South America, we had to read the Popol Vuh, commonly known as the book of “the men of maize” (men of corn) - what a wonder it is. I wasn’t truly into the experience at the time, because it was forced upon me, but I can say that I did enjoy it. My teacher, at the time was a very strict yet young Spanish woman, Maria Jesus. We actually analyzed this book in Art class, you’d think Literature, huh? Anyway, the Popol Vuh is the story of creation as the Mayas saw it - it’s about the beginning of everything; when only the skies and the waters existed and to be able to travel along with the Maya Gods and their surroundings back then, was a unique experience for me.

To be able to trigger a mind the way writing does is a gift and my mind has been “triggered” many-a times by unexpected readings and occurances, hmm. I hope that one day, I too can trigger thoughts.

Writing, in my very humble and unexperienced opinion, begins with a liking for words - you don’t need to express yourself in a fancy, “snooty”, manner to be a writer; nor do you need to necessarily “study” it formally (my personal take on it, remember!), nor do you have to be a goo speller ; bit of passion and silliness is all that it takes, I think. Actually, I feel a little silly right now because this is all new to me, new-fun-relaxing, mmm.

Speaking of writing, I am going through a stage right now with my 12 yr. old daughter that is confusing to us both (writing-wise). She is not a typical anything. She is very philosophical, mature and witty creature - a writer since she was very small, and when she brings back corrected homework and classwork
it hurts me to see how anal and structured writing “needs to be”.

You see, I don’t quite recall my teachers, who were beyond wonderful and brilliant, ever being so anal in their comments and corrections. Perhaps it’s that, I don’t believe in structure all that much even though I recognize that it is a must. She and I, my daughter, have always talked about kids that get straight A’ s yet have no common sense, wit or “fun” about them - they are locked up in a box of persistence and discipline, if you ask me. And I have told her always, that gut intelligence is something you are born with. That “hippie-kinda” creativity and “what-the-heckness” is ingrained in our genetic making. It cannot be removed and it cannot be bought - thank God! We’ve always discussed that people that are more on the “smart” side, do not usually dig school and its very closed structure but we also acknowledge that school and formal training are a must.

My brother, a musician, a composer, a rebel and lover of life, who I admire and love very much, was never a good student during high school - always brilliant, never structured, graduated from his dream career , “Music” (not mentioning where, out of discretion) basically with flying colors. Why? Because it was always his passion! Yes, he had to go through basic bologna but the rewards were more than the obstacles.

I don’t think I would like to “learn” how to write because I am a very proud person and of the internal thought process of “Who are you to show me how to write? I can write however and whatever I please to!” - professors of all sorts, please don’t take offense - however, I would love to formally learn where to place basics such as signs of punctuation, hyphens, how to handle repetitions such as “it is that that is so hard to figure out”