A Miracle on the Pop Aisle

I remember reading an article with Hans Zimmer when he was talking about writing the original music score for The Prince of Egypt. He was talking about the scene where Moses talks to God in the form of the burning bush. He basically had to write the most beautiful music ever and told the producers, “If you don’t like this, I cannot do this project because this is my soul put to music.” Allow me to now put my soul in words and if you don’t like this…
I believe in God. But also believe that mankind has screwed up everything we touch. I feel like organized religion is an obstacle man must transcend in order to truly look into the face of God… and I saw Him today.
Now, please don’t misconstrue what I am saying. If you attend church, fantastic. More power to you. I work on Sundays and I am not a regular churchgoer. I love the fellowship with our fellow man. We are not intended to be alone. But it is just not something I need. Other people need it and I would never look poorly on someone for needing church.
But God and I are cool. Personally, I cannot wait to meet him. He is the one with the big “G” on his sweatshirt in gym class. It is going to suck to play poker against him because he will always know when I’m bluffing. But it is going to be great to watch new Star Wars movies with him. He probably has the prequels to the prequels in His movie vault.
That is my relationship with God. It is an extremely personal one. While I have never heard His voice, I feel when He enters my heart. It is a tingling in my spine and a lightness that enters me. Not like a bright light but a weightlessness in my heart. And I tell him “Hi” when He comes to me. It is a similar sensation I get when I hear the Star-Spangled Banner, see a beautiful moment in life, or when a moving musical moment crosses my ears. It is a sensation of peace and happiness that cannot accurately be put into words. It is then that I know that He is with me and that I can conquer any obstacle.
He was with me when my mother passed away. He was with me when my children were born. He was with me in the ultimate highs and the ultimate lows. I have never questioned and I have never been mad at Him, even when He called my mom back at the age of 56. Far too short a beautiful life to be sure. He is with me now as I write this. “Hey, Big Guy. Good to feel you.”
I truly believe that Heaven is like spokes on a giant bicycle wheel and we each get our own individual spoke to create as we choose. And I cannot wait to mount up in the saddle of my giant golden dragon (with the voice that is the blend of James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman) who will fly me around and show me where everything is and how things work. And when He has time, we will get to walk and talk. I imagine it will be a lot like walking with an amalgam of all my friends and family, only in a singular entity. Because my God is a personal God. He is one that you get to hang out with.
I cannot explain why I feel this way or what in my life has shaped this belief… but in my heart this is how it is.
Today, I met a friend in the store who knows the trials and tribulations I have been facing recently in my life. Today, she comforted me in my sorrow and then told me she was 14-weeks pregnant. I cannot believe that her and Shelly are going to be mommas. So I was giving her a hug and reminded her that Ryan means “Kingly.”
A individual who I had never met before in my life saw me giving her a great hug and jokingly asked for one of his own. So I obliged. I gave this complete stranger a hug. He told me that he needed that today and hoped I was doing well. I laughed and said, “Truth be told, I am horrible.” He paused, turned, came back to me and gave me another hug. This gentleman who could have been my father told me the most inspirational thing I have ever heard.
“I would bear it for you if I could.”
In my hug, the stranger could feel my pain, my heartache and my sorrow, and not knowing me from Adam, wanted to ease my burden. He told me that everything works out in the end and that I have to have faith. I have to be strong. His name is Richard and I told him that was my uncle’s name. He then went about his shopping but I could not let this man go.
I tracked him down a few aisles away to shake his hand and tell him thank you. He told me he is not a preacher. He runs Pensacola Pizza and works as an RN Monday through Friday. He told me that he is not a churchgoer but he believes in God. It told him how I can’t wait to meet Him one day and gave him the poker analogy. He said he could feel God and my belief in my handshake and he offered me some of his energy to help ease my suffering.
As an RN, he has seen souls depart the body and leave for Heaven. He described exactly what my dad saw when Mom passed away. How can He not be up there? How can I not believe?
I told him how my wife was an LPN and wanted to be a SANE (Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner). Truly, nursing is a godly profession. And the caring and compassion in this gentleman’s eyes and the warmth of his soul was just unbelievable. I glimpsed into the face of God this morning, seen through the eyes of a complete stranger that was willing to help me bear my terrible burden that is destroying my soul and has turned me into a shell of what I was.
We are not designed to be alone. It is our unity and compassion for one another that makes us so human. This is such a stressful time of the year for people when it should be about family and togetherness. Peace on Earth and goodwill towards men.
Be slow to anger. Be forgiving. And let people be human beings. We all make mistakes but you have to forgive and forget. You have to soldier on. I do that by picking up my lightsaber. I am trying to become the Jedi Knight, the samurai, the warrior/poet. Offer a helping hand. You never know how it will impact another person’s day. And by paying it forward, there is no telling the joy you can spread.
What was Jesus’ #1 message? Love. Just love each other. Or to coin a slightly more modern phrase, “Be excellent to each other and party on, dudes.”
I needed to hear the voice of God telling me to shoulder on and not let go of my lightsaber. Be the Jedi Knight. I heard that voice from a complete stranger today. I have never heard the voice of God in my heart – I feel him all the time – but today was the day I heard his voice through a stranger.
I am not a conventional soldier of God. I like to think I am part of His Special Forces. Unconventional but I get the job done. And He is proud of me for that. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For You are with me. Your rod and Your staff comforts me. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.
We are nothing without God and God is nothing without us. Forgive my trespasses as I forgive those who trespass against me. Lead me not into temptation and deliver me from evil. For OURS is the kingdom and the power and glory forever.
Do not give up hope. Do not give up faith. And do not give up love. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. I will illuminate my path with my blue lightsaber. I hope you find your illumination. Seek and ye shall find…

Find Your Hope...

It seems like life and your journey has been the source of countless songs over generations. It might be Aerosmith reminding you that “life’s a journey, not a destination,” or Miley Cyrus telling you “ain’t about what’s waiting on the side… it’s the climb.” But a life without hope is a terrible thing. Hope spring eternal and you have to believe that the next day will be better than the last.
You have to make constant strides to improve yourself. In life, you are either growing or you are dying. There can be no stagnation because that draws complacency. And that is when you grow lazy, unfocused, and things can slip away from you.
Fight. Fight as if your life depends on it because chances are… it does. Fight for what you want and what you believe in. Hope. Hope for the best but make your destiny yours. And if you need some inspiration, here are some words that spoke volumes to me here very recently…

HOPE IN ACTION
Hope looks for the good in people instead of harping on the worst.
Hope opens doors where despair closes them.
Hope discovers what can be done instead of grumbling about what cannot.
Hope draws its power from a deep trust in God and in the basic goodness of mankind.
Hope lights a candle instead of cursing the darkness.
Hope regards problems, small or large, as opportunities.
Hope sets big goals and is not frustrated by repeated difficulties or setbacks.
Hope accepts misunderstanding as the price for serving the greater good of others.
Hope is a good loser because it has the divine assurance of final victory.

How to Keep Me Off Crystal Meth…

I have had three people in my life that have been incredibly influential and could not be more diametrically different. Yet, all three have one common factor that links them all together. The first is my father. The second is my high school football coach. The third is the store director at my 9-to-5 job. The one trait that all these men share is that I never wanted to disappoint them. If I was ever addicted to crystal meth and had to be on that show Intervention, all it would take is a panel of these three men in which they all say to me, “I am very disappointed in you, son.” I would shatter like a pane of glass and then be ready to be built back up by one of those motivational speakers that yell at you and you thank them for it afterwards. Pay attention, Ray Lewis. Just saying… There are job opportunities out there after football.
The relationship with my father has always been a strong one. Given the fact that he gave me life, food, shelter, and so forth, it seems pretty obvious why I would not want to disappoint him. Yet, not all people have a similar relationship with their paterfamilias. Others could care less what their fathers’ think of them.
Then there is my football coach. His coaching style left you with a desire to make him happy. I remember blowing a big play and then having to make that horrible run to the sidelines after the series was over. Yet, not all coaches can inspire that kind of relationship with their players. If you could, there would be none of these sorted tales of NFL players shooting themselves in the leg with a pistol tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants. There would be no Pacman Joneses. No Michael Vicks. They would not do stupid things for fear of disappointing their coaches. I watch America’s Game all the time on NFL Network and clearly, some coaches are better at this ability than others.
Then there is my boss at work. I cannot put my finger on it. I have worked with a large number of managers over the course of my retail career. I have found that some managers are promoted to a level of authority without being properly trained to truly manage people. Others just know how to treat people that work with them. Is it instinctive or is it taught? Is it both?
Regardless, I had to defuse a situation yesterday and I did it by taking power into my own hands. Better to go to them and say, “This is what I did” as opposed to them having to come to me. But in doing so, my biggest fear – the cottonmouth, the acid in the stomach – was that my boss would be disappointed with me. Granted, what I did was a minor infraction. There was never any fear that my job was actually in jeopardy but I did not want to have to make that “walk of shame.” And not the good kind that you make from a fraternity or sorority house where you at least have a story to tell and some inappropriate pictures on your cell phone (if you are lucky).
I did not want to disappoint him.
Curiously, one of my very good friends recently was involved in an incident and was transferred to another store. When we talked (at length) about what was going on, his biggest complaint with the entire situation is that he felt he had let Charley down. So, I am not the only person that feels this way. But I am sure that there are other people out there that could give a flip less what Charley (or their current boss) thinks of them.
So what is it? What is that intangible factor that motivates people to not be a disappointment in Person X’s eyes? Is it something instinctive where either you have it or you don’t? Can it be taught? More importantly, can it be bottled? What a powerful weapon that would be…
I have always wondered. Who drills the drill instructors? We have all seen R. Lee Ermey’s performance in Full Metal Jacket. Who are the instructors that train those men to become such revered teachers? Because I want to meet THAT person…

Tanks, Driving Your Car, & Destiny…

As corny and cliché as it may sound, the universe can speak to you at times and you have to be prepared to listen to what it is saying. You don’t want to have the headphones to your MP3 player tucked in when you are about to hear some advice.
So, I have spoken in the past about my crippling addiction to World of Warcraft. Wait. Don’t quit reading. I am giving you a metaphor. Okay, so in that game, you do these dungeon runs where you get lumped in with four other players. You have a healer (who keeps everyone’s health up), three DPSers (which stands for Damage Per Second), and your Tank. The Tank is your meat shield. They wear heavy armor and have lots of health. They don’t dole out a lot of damage but they are not supposed to. That is the DPSers’ job. The tanks job is to wave the flare at the T-Rex so it won’t eat the kids in the stranded SUV. Then when the T-Rex starts chasing you, all the DPS burn him down with their high attack power.
Tanks inevitably have to be the leader of the group. They set the tempo for the attacks and make a dungeon run smoothly. Get a great one and your jaw drops on floor. But get a bad one and everyone dies and the other toons (players) wearing plate armor have a massive repair bill. A tank has made the commitment to be leader of the group. You are carrying the group on your shoulders and you promise to keep them safe. “I will get you through this dungeon and everyone is going to go home safe with some gold in their pockets and hopefully a new weapon or piece of armor.”
So far, in the game, I have been a DPSer. And I feel like I am getting better all the time. I feel solid in my role, learn from my mistakes, and can be counted on to wail away on those bad guys – especially against multiple enemies. As a DPS Paladin (or the horribly nicknamed Retadin for Retribution Paladin), I bring the pain and the more enemies around me, the more damage I do. But I am beginning to dip my toe into the pool of tanking. Playing this game for over a year now and understanding the mechanics more, it is time for me to step up into a leadership position. It is time for me to be in the driver’s seat.
Coincidentally, I have been watching NFL Network a lot lately. I love Hard Knocks and America’s Game. Very recently, I ran across the America’s Game featuring the 2003 Tampa Bay Buccaneers. One of the players featured in that episode was Warren Sapp talking about his Super Bowl victory. I’ve always loved Sapp (except for his time spent as a Raider) and I love to see him on NFL Total Access. Sure enough, later that evening, Sapp was on Total Access talking about the difference between football players. If a football team is a car, some players are drivers and some are passengers. Being a driver is a big responsibility. Some players should only be passengers and it is only when they are suddenly shoved into the driver’s seat that they realize that should be passengers.
All quarterbacks have to be drivers. Emmitt Smith was a great running back but Troy Aikman was the leader of that team. Peyton Manning. Eli Manning. Brett Farve. Joe Montana. People remember the quarterbacks most of all. Defenses are a little different. Warren Sapp. Ray Lewis. Michael Strahan. Reggie White. Leaders can emerge from multiple positions.
So looking around at my life, I realize that far too much, I am a passenger. I am too dependent on too many things and I am not driving my life. I am too dependent on my 9-to-5 which I hate and is a major source of stress in my life. In my comic book writing, I am too dependent on editors deciding which projects I do. I have to wait for them to say yes or no to approve a project or edit an existing project to advance my career. I am too dependant on that credit card bill I let spiral out of control.
I have decided to make massive changes in my life. It is too long in coming. Things have to change. Because how I feel right now, this is not how life was supposed to be. It is time to slide out of the passenger seat and take the wheel.
It’s time for me to be the tank…

Meeting Your Heroes…

There is an old expression out there that you should never meet your heroes. Most of the time, you have put them up on a pedestal in your mind and to have that come crashing down can be devastating. Back when I had a MySpace page (remember when MySpace was cool?), I liked to do my own graphics and I had one that featured the Top 5 people I would liked to be trapped in an elevator with. Vin Diesel was tops in the list because we go to the same barber and I want to do a CHRONICLES OF RIDDICK comic book. But what if I actually got a chance to meet Vin and he blew me off or was a total jerk. It would sour all of my feelings for him – wouldn’t be a fan anymore. Hans Zimmer? Joe Quesada? Stephen Colbert? How would it change my feelings if they were jerks?
So with MySpace dying, I converted over to Facebook. I have become fans of several famous people, one of which was Seth Grahame-Smith, after reading his book Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Curious to see what other writers might be on the list and having just finished The Ghost King, I looked up my #1 favorite author of all time. I have what I call my Magnificent Seven – the seven people who have influenced me the most creatively. Arnold Schwarzenegger, James Cameron, Jim Lee, Todd McFarlane, Kevin Smith, and topping the list is George Lucas. (I know that is only six.) Lucas tops the list in the number one category. But imagine my surprise when I found #2 on my list on Facebook…
The #2 slot belongs to a gentleman named R.A. Salvatore. Salvatore is not the household name that others are on the list. Although most people might not know Lee or McFarlane. Google or Wikipedia them. I can’t do everything for you! Salvatore is a New York Times Best Selling Author who created the character of Drizzt Do’Urden. Salvatore made me want to write. In all his book dust jackets, they talk of how The Lord of the Rings changed his life. I always wanted to meet him, shake his hand and say, “The Crystal Shard changed my life.”
That book put me on the path to becoming a writer. There is no doubt about it. I think it is a rarity where you can look back on something and say, “This [book/film/college class/set of boobs/etc.] changed my life.” So on his FB page, it had an email address.
Hey, if he didn’t want fans to email him, he wouldn’t put the address out there. Right? Now, again, you don’t want to put people up on pedestals. Many times they do not survive the fall when they crash down to reality. But I sent a politely worded email to Mr. Salvatore and tried not to gush too much.
Imagine my surprise when he emailed me back… And not some form letter. He actually took the time to write me back. That is a pretty cool thing. And we have exchanged several emails since. I was going to be an eternal fan of his anyway but to know that he appreciates his fans… that just cements it even more.
Life is all about lessons. You cannot imagine my excitement when R.A. Salvatore popped up in my email inbox… When it comes to fan mail or if I ever am popular enough to make into the comic book convention circuit, I am going to remember how important it is to be accessible and friendly to fans. I probably would have been that way anyway – Mrs. Foley’s baby boy could not be any other way. But it is always nice to get some reinforcement.

The Rumors of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated…

What the hell? I haven’t done an entry since the end of March? I know most of you Ryaddicts must be pulling your hair out at this point. I wish I could explain my absence. It might be my addiction to World of Warcraft or my recent involvement with Facebook. I wish I could say that. But truth be told, I have signed gag orders with the government promising not to disclose too much information. Let’s just say that certain ninja skills were required in a place I like to call Ear-nay Fghanistan-way. The world is now safer because of me. You’re welcome. Medal of Freedom please… [Making grabby hand gestures.]
Getting back into the swing of things takes a little time and practice. I have created two pages on Facebook. One is dedicated to all the crazy wackadoo that one would expect coming from me – even though I have toned down my language now that both my boys are on FB. The other page is dedicated to me as a Comic Book Writer – which is infinitely more professional and probably more insightful.
But I am trying to get back into the swing of things. With a little bit of luck, my current comic book publisher and I are in negotiations to possibly create my first 100% original project for them. You have to understand how big a milestone this is for me creatively. All of my projects thus far have all been adaptations of classic novels, mythological stories, or commissioned projects. Even with all my other publishers (Image, MVCreations, and Arcana), all my works have been commissions… except for one.
That title is known as THE PRAETORIAN. The artist assigned to that project (the ridiculously talented Robert Gill) is chewing through Issue #3 as I write this blog. So between THE PRAETORIAN and this current project that I have submitted, it would give me two books that are all me. 100%. Which means if they suck story content or character wise, it is all on me. On the other hand, if they are a success and people like them, it is all on me. And that is pretty darn cool. I am not saying that Robert and I are creating the next Drizzt Do’Urden or Red Sonja or anything – that will be kind of up to the readers to decide. But to create a character that has the potential to be out there in the comic book lexicon... Well that should be the dream of every comic book creator.
As a creative individual, you inevitably want to flex your muscles. You want to expand your horizons to become a better writer. I took on the task of writing STOLEN HEARTS because I wanted to see if I could write a romance book. I wanted to see if I could. Thankfully, given the editorial comments, blog reviews, and reader praise, I guess I did a pretty good job. But you never know until you try. That is why you have to get out of your comfort zone every now and again. Broaden those horizons. You won’t be sorry. At least if you fail, you fail while daring greatly…

“It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”
Teddy Roosevelt, speaking at the Sorbonne in Paris, April 23, 1910

And The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth… But It’s Kind of a Fixer-Upper

This entry began as a review for my blog dedicated to movie reviews but I quickly surmised that it was more fitting to put these thoughts within my own more introspective blog. I just watched Capitalism: A Love Story and it got me thinking. If you watch a movie and rush out and want to talk to people about it, then that is the sign of a good film. If it can stir up emotions in you, it is a freaking awesome movie. Now, I do not agree with everything that the director put out there but there are several instances where you do just want to stand up and scream, “WTF?!”
If I had to pigeon hole me into a specific category, I would have to say that my religion is Christian but have yet to find a denomination that fits my personal POV. I feel like everyone is entitled to his or her own faith. Who am I to say that Muslim, Buddhists, or Shinto are wrong and I am right? I feel like there are many different highways to get to Disneyland. The destination is the same and we all get to the same place. We just take different routes to get there. Some may take the main highways while other take boulevards, and other sneak over the fence while the security guards aren’t looking.
So, without getting lost in ecumenical politics or offending the majority of my audience, I find that I am liberal about some things and conservative about others. I want a strong military. I want criminals brutalized. I want small government and I want Uncle Sam to keep his nose out of my business.
But at the same time, I want drugs legalized so we can tax the revenue and make it less dangerous for those that chose to partake. I want prostitution legalized. I want gambling legalized. I think food stamps and welfare are great to use as a crutch – as long as you don’t make it your lifestyle.
I do not hate capitalism. I would fully embrace it in its most pure and uncorrupted form. But what Michael Moore brings to light in his movie is just infuriating. If his facts are accurate, the top 1% of this country possesses more wealth than the bottom 95% combined. Think about that.
It is clear through his interpretation that Moore is not a fan of Bush, Cheney, and the Republican Party. But in his movie, he equally takes the Democrats to task. The TRUE villain of the film is the banking industry. I am not talking about your local branches and the small town banks but corporations like AIG, Goldman Sachs, and Merrill Lynch. The underhanded things that these corporations were doing are just disgusting.
Like many underprivileged Americans, my retirement and 401k plan consists of the lottery tickets that I purchase. I know I am never going to win but I find it interesting to imagine scenarios and what I would do with the money. Aside from my fully functioning replica of the Tumbler from Batman Begins and my castle room to play World of Warcraft in, I would start several businesses – including my gentlemen’s club Fairy Tails. But with me well off financially, I would ensure that the lion’s share of the profits went back to the employees – since they are the true backbone of a company. It is not its CEO or executives that make a company work. It is the grunts working in the mud and the blood everyday. They are the ones that make it work.
One of the more poignant segments of the movie is how people believe that God has blessed America and it is his favorite nation in the history of the world. Yet, I feel that Jesus might be a tad irked about our capitalistic system. If the system was pure and uncorrupted and worked the way it is supposed to, I don’t think he would have that much of a problem with it. But have you seen mankind lately? We screw up everything we touch!
Did Jesus not talk about being kind to the poor? Did He not say how you treat the least of my brethren you treat me? And yet, the wealthy CEOs at all of these massive companies are making ridiculous salaries while grunt workers unable to make their mortgage payments are being shown the door.
This is why I wish the poor and the day-to-day workers could be granted their own businesses because they would know how to treat the people who work under them with respect. But sometimes, the world just doesn’t work that way… and it is a damn shame. C’mon lottery. [And I am fully aware of the irony of talking about starting a gentlemen’s club and citing Jesus in the same article.]
So while I am not one for massive citing of religious text within this blog, I found this article on the Internet and it seemed to speak volumes. Enjoy this food for thought:

To the rich, God has given wealth that they may relieve and comfort His suffering children; but too often they are indifferent to the wants of others. They feel themselves superior to their poor brethren. They do not put themselves in the poor man's place. They do not understand the temptations and struggles of the poor, and mercy dies out of their hearts. In costly dwellings and splendid churches, the rich shut themselves away from the poor; the means that God has given to bless the needy is spent in pampering pride and selfishness. The poor are robbed daily of the education they should have concerning the tender mercies of God; for He has made ample provision that they should be comforted with the necessities of life. They are compelled to feel the poverty that narrows life, and are often tempted to become envious, jealous, and full of evil surmisings. Those who themselves have not endured the pressure of want too often treat the poor in a contemptuous way, and make them feel that they are looked upon as paupers.

Oklahoma Weather & Childhood Memories

I don’t want to be one of those slack-jawed yokels that say, “Gawl dang, lookie at all this snow!” However, Friday was the last day of winter here in Oklahoma. It was 72 degrees, warm, and sunny with a nice breeze. Yesterday was the first day of spring and there is a foot of snow on the ground. The wind is howling and snowdrifts were piled so high we got stuck in the middle of the road. So I called in as “unavailable” to work today.
Yesterday, I managed to make it home from work fine as the temperature was not bitterly cold and the massive wind had not kicked up yet. On Friday, I was home from work and the kids were on Spring Break. I warned them to go outside on Friday because on Saturday, they would not be able to.
Sure enough, the snow came. Normally I have to chase Jason out of the house and away from the video games with a broom. But yesterday, while I was at work, Amy told me that she could not keep Jason inside. Decked out in his black Under Armor and dressed in his Clone Trooper helmet, Jason reenacted the Imperial assault on the Rebel base on Hoth.
This got me to thinking of my own childhood and how the apple certainly doesn’t fall far from the tree. I grew up in North Carolina in the city of Charlotte. Now, for Charlotte to receive snow, it has to come up through Georgia – which doesn’t happen very often.
But I remember one winter we finally got snow… and being a young Star Wars fan, this was the moment you waited for since you saw The Empire Strikes Back. Before you were relegated to draping white sheets over the carpet and furniture in the den (until your parents discovered what you were doing). But the problem is my mother never bought just plain white sheets. So all my Hoth environments had little paisleys or designs on them.
But finally, snow. Honest to goodness, deep snow. I remember setting my Tauntaun action figures out with the cold weather Luke Skywalker riding him and then taking my snow speeder and flying circles around him (by running in the yard) to get the picture perfect camera angles for my mind’s eye.
I would flop down in the snow and play with the Tauntaun and my Wampa Ice Creature, reenacting the whole scene over and over again, despite my front getting soaked from lying in the snow… and I could have cared less. I think it is extremely cool that my sons are just as obsessed with a wonderful thing like Star Wars just as I was at that age. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree at all…

How Honest Abe & The Undead Made Me Look Like A Psycho in Wal-Mart…

Disclaimer: Everything I am about to tell you is TRUE.
Today, I went to my local Wal-Mart to pick up some pizza for the kids’ lunch, dinner for tonight, and a Monster for me. (It is my last guilty pleasure with my diet.) I am not a compulsive person by any means. I was there with a mission: food, pricing a new set of headphones & mic for my computer, and to price a new TV to replace the boys’ that went nuclear last night.
I was done shopping but for reasons that cannot be explained, I went down the aisle with the books and magazines “just to see.” Then, it caught my eye – this wonderfully, ridiculous template of utter insanity. When I first saw it, I said out loud, “What?” The title was four words that should never have justifiably been used together in… well, in all of modern history. I snatched it off the rack began devouring the dust jacket blurbs – scarcely able to contain my excitement of this incredibly off-the-wall concept.
And I immediately started laughing. I had to have this book. No matter what it took. So I called the Comptroller and got the disbursement of funds approved.
Book in hand, I laughed all the way to the check out stand. I talked up my purchase with the cashier – who did not seem to openly share my mirth in the book title. I laughed in the parking lot. I laughed all the way through Pryor. As I was driving, I was thinking to myself, “To whom can I call to tell this story of abject insanity? Who can I call that would appreciate this tale as much as me?”
Out of all my friends, I knew there was only one. There was only one perfect choice. He was the first on the list… So I scrolled to the end of my address book and pulled up “X-Ray Man Aaron.” This man is a black hole for books. I proceeded to tell him the story almost exactly the same as I have told it to you now. As I reached the conclusion of my tale and I prepared to unleash the title of this masterpiece, Aaron simply said, “Let me guess…”
I could not have anticipated this would be his response but, really, there could be no other conclusion to this tale. And then he said those four precious words:
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.
I gave a huzzah that rattled the windows in my car and we continued with the discussion. As it turns out, he is reading the exact same book right now. Now, just let that title sink in for a minute. Yep, the author has taken real moments from Lincoln’s history and has blended in elements of vampirism. This is his follow-up to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

I would type more but I have to start reading right now. Good bye, free time. Let’s start the insanity.

Building Great Foundations For People Can Start With You

I am extremely lucky in that I knew from a very early age the industry I wanted to be in. Comic books (or Graphic Novels for all you snooty peoples out there) quickly became my passion. Originally intending to break into the industry as an artist, I quickly realized my art talents were not up to snuff and I began to switch over to more of the writing aspect. Obviously, this has paid off in dividends. I still consider myself an artist but I paint my pictures with words now instead of my pencils.
Still, in high school, any teacher that paid attention knew about my artistic side. Nurturing artistic sides can be a difficult thing. I love Michael Bublé and I totally wish I could sing like him. He does a rendition of I’ve Got You Under My Skin that just blows the roof off the dump. But I don’t have the chops. I just don’t. And you have to be careful not to nurture people when the talent isn’t there. Want proof that this happens? Watch any start to the American Idol season. So you have to have passion but you also have to have a certain amount of natural ability. The embers have to be in there to start the fire.
Now, my dad is an All-American Water Polo player. He is in the Swimming Hall of Fame. To this day, he still has that “swimmer’s body.” Clearly the athletic gene in the Foley DNA strain skips a generation. I played High School football for two years. Don’t worry. This isn’t some Al Bundy tirade that ends with me saying, “I played High School football! All City back in ’66. Scored four touchdowns in a single game.”
Fact of the matter is I stunk at football. Well, let me take that back. I was the best Scum-O running back Adair football had ever seen. (If you don’t know what Scum-O is, ask your brother.) I was smart enough to know how to run multiple opposing team’s offenses from every position so that our First Team Defense could practice against it. Unfortunately, I had no athletic ability. I had heart for miles and wanted to perform desperately… but I just didn’t have the chops.
Between my Sophomore and Junior year of high school, things went south at my house. My mom & dad both lost their jobs in the same month. The SAME MONTH. And a decision was made. If I wanted the high dollar sneakers and the fancy jeans and my comic books, I had to get a job.
Now, when you go from playing high school football in a small town to NOT playing high school football, your stock has a tendency to dip. I think it was a year or maybe two after I graduated from high school that I ran into my football coach at a basketball game. The first thing he asked me was if I was still drawing.
Man, are you kidding me? Do you know how special that is for an athletic coach to recognize the true gifts of a person and acknowledge the importance of cultivating that gift – especially when said gifts are not athletically related?
So, needless to say, I was not surprised at all when I just heard that Coach Russell Kruse was part of the 2010 class of inductees for the Oklahoma Coaches Hall of Fame.
Teachers, mentors, parents, Big Brothers & Sisters, all of you have the potential to play an extremely important role in a person’s life. You can be a rock of encouragement. You can be a source of inspiration. You can be a booster.

Ask yourself sometime, “What role am I playing?” After all, you never know whom you might inspire…

Finding Him and Yourself in the Details

I have professed my love of the films of Kevin Smith for years. And while I am not skilled enough to critique his skills as a director, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he is a fantastic writer. In one of his more controversial films (for really no reason whatsoever), Smith wrote the following dialogue for Rufus the 13th Apostle who was purposefully left out of the Bible because he was black. Speaking of Jesus, Rufus said:

“He likes to listen to people talk. Christ loved to sit around the fire and listen to me and the other guys. You know whenever we were going on about unimportant shit he always had a smile on his face.”

There is an expression that God is in the details. The true definition of person does not come in the big, sweeping questions. Christian? Jew? Muslim? Republican? Democrat? Pro-gun? Anti-Abortion? Giants fan? Cowboys fan? (Although for the record, that last one… yeah, just stone those people in the streets.) People are never impressed with the broad strokes of an artist. Broad strokes do not a painting make. It is the small strokes, the subtle blends, and the minutiae of the details that make a piece of art or music truly inspiring.
Now, stick with me. It seems like over the last several months, a few people have been removed from my life because of job changes. And it is strange. My former boss and I at our 9-to-5 used to share stories as we were setting up the department of the day. These conversations could be about World of Warcraft, fantasy football, movies, cool facts discovered on TV shows (we both dig the History Channel and Discovery)… All of the conversations were of things that, in the grand scheme of things, had no relevant bearing in my life. I don’t want to call the topics “stupid” but more “inane” than anything else.
I have friends from high school – good friends – friends that I would be happy to call brother. Some of these guys I have not seen in years. We maintain contact via email and Facebook but it does not have the same level of closeness. So you would think that if we got back together, we would have just loads of stuff to talk about. And yet… have you ever experienced that? You should just be spouting Wikipedia levels of information at this person. It has been three years! But you find yourself with nothing to talk about.
Then I have my friend Luke who I see all the time at work. To this day, we have NEVER run out of things to talk about. Granted most of those conversations revolve around boobs, video games, intercourse of various fashions (filmed and live), work related BS, movies, and such. By all accounts, it is all inconsequential… Yet I crave those conversations.
So if we are made in His image, and if God is in the details, then one could surmise that these inconsequential details – this unimportant stuff – are who we truly are. It is these little exchanges, this small, meaningless crap that actually makes your life worth living. So to this argument, I would add a quote from one of history’s greatest minds.

Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted. --Albert Einstein

Soaring on Wings of a Film

Years ago, I discovered my true joy in music. Finding songs with lyrics too distracting to write to, I discovered a wonderful synergy while writing to Original Music Scores from films. With almost 250 soundtracks in my library, I like to think I have become a bit of an aficionado on the subject. Now, when a big movie is hitting, I always look to see who is doing the music for the film.
My favorite composer of all time is a gentleman by the name of Hans Zimmer and I am always on the lookout for new music from him. (I was super-stoked when he signed on for the new Batman film franchise.)
The problem with loving this type of music is the ability to spread this joy around to my friends. Thank goodness for YouTube.
There is an album of Zimmer’s called Wings of a Film, which is a live concert recording of his music. I have always said that if there were some miracle that Zimmer and an orchestra came to the BOK center, I would sign up faster than I did for Star Wars: In Concert. And I would probably pay more for tickets. Yeah, I love Zimmer’s work that much. If I could right music, I would want to be able to write like him. I can’t think of higher praise than that.
From Wings of Film, there is a track called “Thunderbird” from the movie Thelma & Louise. If ever there was a track that made me want to play guitar (short from Gary Hoey’s Auld Lang Syne), it is this track.
The music is long, almost 8 minutes in length. It starts slowly and then gradually builds and at about 5:22 the music just takes off into the stratosphere.
Greater indeed are pleasures that are shared, so this is my humble offering to you… Enjoy. And to Mr. Zimmer, thank you…

THUNDERBIRD

Once More Into the Breach…

It is coming, my friends. Can you sense it? It is the inevitable doom on the horizon and it is rushing at all of us like a black basalt wave under a moonless midnight sky. We can sense it, feel it in our bones, and we are powerless to stop its crushing, relentless assault. It is coming…
Valentine’s Day.
I heard on a radio add that two out of every three women are disappointed on Valentine’s Day. What is synonymous with the holiday? Flowers, chocolates, hearts, jewelry. It is a time for a man to put forth a display to showcase how much he loves his woman. And what do the women have to do for this holiday?
I asked several ladies at my job what they are doing for their men this Valentine’s Day. The most common answer given? Nothing. “I guess I’ll give him some…”
That is all women have to do on Valentine’s Day. Put out. That’s it. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is a fantastic gift and no man ever turns it down. But look at the stress and angina that we have to go through to get it.
Case in point, in one Facebook entry, a girl was commenting on how the cupid arrow had struck her boyfriend and the person said, “Wonder what he wants?” Now, the short answer is “let me get up in them guts.”
But regardless of what we do, men are screwed. Every second of every day. Women are often so self-conscious about their appearance that if a man comments on how pretty they look, then clearly we must be up to something. We must want something if we are being complimentary. It is like we always have an ulterior motive.
Now, maybe, 90% of the time we do. But that ulterior motive is to, again, get up in them guts.
But it is so nightmarishly unfair. Men run around looking to find all the perfect gifts. If you don’t buy her diamonds on Valentine’s Day, you don’t love her. Didn’t bring her flowers, you don’t love her. “Why didn’t you buy me chocolates? Marie’s husband bought her chocolates! Is it because I’m fat?”
And so, to quote my last blog entry, men get punch drunk. So, riddle me this, ladies. What are you doing for your man this Valentine’s Day? Throw you legs up in the air and maybe, if he’s lucky, get all the way naked? You promise not to wear the flannel footie pajamas to bed that night?
Romance is a two way street and just giving it up without an argument is not really much of a gift. I say this not to chastise but to educate. Try to see things from our point of view once in a while. By the previous rationale, Romance is like having us start at our own two-yard line to begin the drive but when you get the ball, you get to start in the Red Zone.
It’s all too easy for you all. We gird our loins and charge once more into the breach. And all you have to do is say, “Come and get it” or in some cases “Well, let’s get this over with…”

Ladies, you have it pretty darn easy. Maybe you should do something different and go out of the way for him for once… Weaker sex, my ass.

The Small, Subtle but Incredibly Important Differences

Biologists say that there is only a 3% biological difference between men and women. Those small, subtle differences are incredibly important in the game of life. But how different are men and women psychologically? Infinitely. How? Read on…

Now, many people ask me, “Ryan, you have a job in a produce department and you write comic books on the side. Clearly you are swimming in cash. [I know those first statements are not questions.] Why buy generics?” The answer to this question is that I like to stay connected to the common man. I don’t demand that the public carry me around on a palanquin – the things that they used to carry around the Pharaohs… (Although that certainly would make shopping at Wal-Mart easier.) But I do tend to go for the store brands and the generics to save a few pennies here and there. I am saving up for an ivory backscratcher.
Often times, generics can be a gamble. I have had some generic Raisin Bran that was like chewing cardboard and little nuggets of rubber. But then there have been pleasant surprises. The frozen Best Choice Garlic Bread is the best! But you have to have standards in your life. Certain aspects should not be compromised.
Seriously, are you buying condoms out of a markdown basket? I don’t think so…
We do tend to clip coupons and occasionally we change up our brands depending on how much money we can save. So it was quite a treat when Amy came home with Cottonelle toilet paper. I have always been a strong proponent that this is one area that cannot and should not be compromised in. And ever since they stopped making Aurora White, I have been particular about my choices for back there.
(A shiny dime to whoever can cite that pop culture reference first…)
Many of you are thinking, “C’mon, Ryan. A blog entry about your toilet paper usage? Have you just run out of stuff to talk about?” Fear not, true believers. All of this has been a prelude.
So with the coupon gravy train drying up (that reminds me, we need pet food), we went back to the standard Angel Soft – the Wal-Mart house brand of toilet paper. And I am not happy. So I tell my wife, “Man, that new toilet paper is horrible.”
Amy gets mad at me for this statement and fires back at me that it is the same brand we have used in the past and I need to get over it because I am just using it “to wipe my ass.” Yes, I married her for her demure attitude. And for the record, everyone likes to be pampered back there. I dare you to use hotel sandpaper grade TP for a week and then try to argue that point with me.
So with two prefaces out of the way, we come to the meat of the entry… You see, in her mind, what I said was that she made a horrible decision by buying it. Let me state that I was in no way raking Amy over the coals for her decision. I don’t know if they changed the formula or something but I don’t like it. And because of the packaging, you never really know how TP is going to feel. It’s a crapshoot. (Pun intended.) I guess you could crack open a package and test it on the aisle before purchase but I don’t think employees at said store are going to be very happy with you.
But toilet paper is not the issue here. Ladies, if your men tell you something, you cannot take it as a personal affront. Last time I checked, Amy is in no way connected with the manufacturing of Angel Soft nor does she sit on the board of directors. Therefore, she should take no personal insult towards my comment – but that is how it was perceived. It was like I walked in and said, “Hey moron, that toilet paper you bought was horrible.” Which could not be farther from the truth.
Could I have phrased my comment differently? Sure. In hindsight. What I should have said was, “Man, Angel Soft must have changed their formula or something because I do not remember it ever being that rough and scratchy. Next time, can we buy Cottonelle again?”
I see that now, again, in hindsight, because at the time, I had no idea that a sane person would take personal offense at the “hey, the TP is rough” comment. See, my problem was I was looking at the situation LOGICALLY. Clearly, trying to defeat a woman with logic is a losing battle. But this is just a symptom of the insanity of trying to deal with women. These are the battles we as men have to fight and clearly we are unarmed.
Why do you think poker players hate playing with amateurs? Because amateurs make insane moves that no pro would ever make. And trying to have a logical argument with a woman is like trying to have a boxing match with an psychotic because you never know what ammo those people are bringing to the party. At what point will they pull off their boxing gloves and attack you with a rubber ducky and a chain saw? How can you prepare for that or defend against it?
So after a while, men become punch drunk. We are tired of trying to box straight up against someone playing Duchess of Queensbury rules. I am armed with 16 oz. gloves and you are stepping into the ring with a cat o’ nine tails and an enema home kit and I don’t like your intentions with either…
As a result, men shut down. We quit fighting. At which point, wives get mad and complain to their friends. “I never know how he is feeling. He won’t talk to me.” Because last time, I told you I didn’t like toilet paper and you took it as a personal insult.

Husband: “I am not really sure I liked those capers in the eggplant.”
Wife: “Well, I can’t do anything right. You can do all the cooking from now on! I’m going off to slit my wrists in the bathtub! Call the coroner!”

See how we can’t fight that mentality? So rather than lose another argument, we just choose not to engage in it. We shut down. And you made us this way. Ladies, think about that from time to time. Be a little more understanding and open and we might not be so afraid to open up to you…

But truth be told, when you ask us what we are thinking about, 90% of the time, it really is boobs. That is just male nature. That’s one fight we surrendered to a long time ago and have no intention of winning…

The Power of Colbert Compels You!

The Thursday February 4th episode of The Colbert Report first aired at 11:30 p.m. Eastern time. In the show’s second segment, Stephen reported that a Canadian magazine nearly 100 years old was changing its title because it was being blocked by Internet porn filters. The title of the magazine was The Beaver. The company decided to change the name to Canada’s History. Colbert then called on his readership to go to UrbanDictionary.com and post entries under the title of Canada’s History of the most depraved sexual acts imaginable to ensure that Canada’s History would become a mainstream sexual term. (I don’t know if it will reach the popularity of the Dirty Sanchez, the Alabama Hot Pocket, or the Cosby Sweater…)
So I watched the episode this morning (God bless the DVR) and when I logged in at 10:10 a.m. Central time, there had been 409 entries on 59 pages of entries. That’s unbelievable. Man, I love Colbert and to quote one of his segments…

That’s the craziest f@#king thing I’ve ever heard… Hysterical!!!!

Cogs in the Machine

Man, it is strange how quickly things can change in the space of a month. My 9-to-5 Job has been tossed into a nightmarish upheaval that I have not really commented on here because I was waiting for the dust to kind of settle. For the uninitiated, I work in the produce department of a local grocery store. It’s glamorous, I know, and most of you are probably going to be sending me emails asking how I got so lucky. Still, it paid the bills while Amy was in school and it serves as an outlet for me now that she is working. Isolating into Hermitville is probably not best for me from a psychological standpoint.
So here it is in black and white. I’ve never pulled punches on here before so why stop here? (But names will be safeguarded to preserve reputations.) Shortly after Christmas, my boss decided to leave the company abruptly. 15 years of history wiped clean because of a deserved altercation between him and management. 15 years erased because of a crippling disease. Don’t drink, kids. It never ends up well. I still keep in contact with him and I hope he gets the help he needs. But if I were a betting man… Let’s move on.
So he is gone and my future was in jeopardy. But I have weathered the storm and slid through unscathed… like always. I’m like freaking Neo dodging bullets. But the hits just kept on coming.
A person that I considered one of my best friends has moved on to greener pastures as well. We did not work in the same department but it was someone that I would take breaks with and constantly joke around with. We’ve seen stripper boobs together and that gives you a certain unspoken bond. So like that, my friend – and I do consider him a true friend – is gone.
And here a few days ago, a second person from our department is prepping to leave. (That means that in the last two months we have lost 2/5th of our department.) And when you interchange that many people in small departments, the landscape changes dramatically.
Now, let’s add in the fact that the red tape of paperwork and the logistics of hiring someone often cripples our store. Which means it is probably time for me to step it up at work… again. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” Why do things like this always happen when I am really in a groove and flowing with my writing?
Still, as John Donne once said, “No man is an island.” And it is amazing to me how one or two key changes can so dramatically affect the entire landscape of an organization.
Stop and look around every once in a while. How big a cog are you in your machine? Will people at your job miss you when you are gone? Will they celebrate? The most important thing in any person’s life is to feel necessary, to feel valued. Make people appreciate you tomorrow. Make them value your presence… because you never know when your last day might be.

“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

--John Donne

What A Way To Make an Exit...

"All I ask of you is one thing: please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — for the record, it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get.

But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing... things will happen...."

Conan O'Brien

01-22-10

Final Appearance as Host of the Tonight Show

Damn good advice. We miss you, Co-Co....

Mortality & The Meaning of It All

Yesterday, I had to attend a funeral for my wife’s maternal grandmother. Now before there is a massive outpouring of sympathy, please consider that she was nine days away from being 94. 94. She witnessed the Great Depression, World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the first Iraq War, the second Iraq War, and the ongoing War on Terror. She lived through 18 different presidents. She had children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even great-great-grandchildren. That is really saying something.
So, sitting there in church, I could not help but think of my own mother who passed away in 2005. (Point of fact, that was the last time I had sat in a church as well.) The preacher that led the sermon spoke of Blanche’s departure from this world as a “home-going” and I really dug that. The music was very solemn and dignified and the type of service one would expect of a person of such advanced years. It was very quaint… and the exact opposite of what I want when I shuffle off this mortal coil.
I think it is completely natural to dwell on your own mortality after attending a funeral. (It is also custom for people to shag like rabbits after being reminded how life is finite. If you get down like that, it’s cool. Just have your lady call you “Ryan” once.)
So let me put it out there.
Now, we are going off the deep end here and I don’t need any phone calls or me put on any kind of monitoring that ends in the term “watch.” Stick with me as I take you on my logic roller coaster ride. All will be made clear…
I do not fear death. Of course, not fearing death and being ready to die are two very different things. I am by no means ready to check out. I still have too much that I want to do with my life, too many stories left untold and too many events unwitnessed. (There has to be an Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt sex tape. There has to. He is too dreamy… Wait. I mean she…) Let’s move on.
There is a great mystery, a grand expanse that is beyond this mortal world. I look forward to walking with Him as we discuss the purpose of life and why things have evolved (or in some cases devolved) the way they have. I want to know why. And given His sense of humor, He might just shrug His shoulders and say, “Why not?”
I look forward to seeing my mother again. I look forward to meeting Granny Blanche as an immortal and eternally youthful soul. Can I meet Abraham Lincoln? Can I meet ancestors I never knew? And will the place prepared for me meet the expectations of my dreams? Will my collection of fully functioning lightsabers help me defeat the robot-mechanical dragon that keeps the Double-D swimsuit models trapped within the chocolate cave hidden behind the caramel waterfall?
I wonder…
I see death as the next stage in a great adventure. Which is why I do not want to have a funeral. I want to have a memorial service. I want my death to be a celebration of my life. I don’t want people decked out in black and wearing solemn attire. I want Hawaiian shirts. In truth (but probably not financially feasible), I want all my Pall Bearers dressed as either Shock Troopers or the 501st Clone Troopers. But it has to be one or the other. No mixing and matching. One group protected the Emperor and the other was Vader’s Fist. To combine them is ludicrous. And I want my casket to be wheeled out to the Imperial March theme…
I want boisterous music that represents me. I want those church speakers rockin’, son. I want lots of funny photos and laughter. Helium balloons and bunting may be too much but this is a celebration.
Can you play The Blind Boys of Alabama’s I Will Not Walk Alone? Certainly but juxtapose it with Sly & The Family Stone’s Dance to the Music or The Who’s The Seeker… “I won’t get to get what I’m after ‘til the day I die.” Hey, that’s got some meaning to it. I mean Amazing Grace is fine for most funerals but break out The Curse by Audioslave for mine.
I cannot believe that it is just darkness after we close our eyes. I cannot definitively say what lies for us afterwards. But I believe that everyone on this planet and everyone in history is a thread in an elaborate tapestry. And when I have served my purpose in this life and it is time for me to pass on… I am pretty cool with that.
The life that waits for us beyond this one is a great mystery and it is one that I look forward to solving. I can’t wait to pull the latex mask off the villain and have him say, “I’d a gotten away with it to if it wasn’t for you meddlin’ kids.”
But as I look down on my memorial service and I walk amongst you in spirit form, I want smiles. Surely goodness and mercy has followed me all the days of life and it is for that reason that I want joy and fond farewells. I want warm memories, mixed with gut busting laughter, and the occasional anguishing wails from people asking themselves, “Why didn’t I sleep with him?” Guys or girls. Either way. I don’t care.
But most importantly, the thing that I want people to say the most at my memorial service is, “Man, he sure owed me a lot of money…”Life is out there. Go live it…

New Year, New Decade, and I Am Determined to Improved…

Normally, this would the time that look back and reflect on the wonders and glory, the pits and the perils and the entire whole that was 2009. Normally… Unfortunately, 2009 was not exactly a stellar year for me. So I have decided not to rehash the old but instead embrace the new and the potential for hope that comes with a new year and a new decade.
So, I feel as if certain clarifications have to be made regarding my current status so you can see how I am forging ahead. And remember, kids, writing out your goals dramatically improves your chances for success.

First of all, New Year’s Resolutions. I have decided to quit smoking. I know millions of people make this resolution every year and fail. Quitting smoking is one of the hardest things you can do! But I am determined this year to make it stick.
When I have told this to my friends, most of them look at me skeptically and say things like, “Ryan, you never smoked. You can’t—” But then I usually cut them off by screaming at them and then I run away, arms flailing, before their negativity can drag me down.

Time to Finally Go Part Time: The boss of my department (who worked there for the last 15 years) ended his employment at my 9-to-5 rather abruptly at the end of the year. I have explained several times how I hate my job but I love the people. With a major people part of that equation now removed, it is now time to start thinking about my star player (i.e. Me). Which means it is finally time to start treating that job as a true part time thing and focusing more attention on my writing with hopes of turning it into a true full time job.
Truth be told, this was going to have to happen anyway. Amy now has her job rolling and it will be my job to attend to the kids this summer when school is out. So this means I will have to go to my bosses and say, “I can only work on weekends and if you work me during the week when school is out, I have to be out by noon at the latest.” When asked why, I just have to say, “I don’t want to explain to DHS why I left my six-year-old alone for nine hours.”
With this drop in income, I have to find a way to supplement that income. And for some reason, putting this sweet caboose out on the street corner has just not been generating the income it has in the past. I cannot imagine why. According to ABC, desperate housewives are supposed to be everywhere. I guess it is the economy. We are in a recession after all.
So, my attainable goal is to produce 10 graphic novels in 2010. I just turned in Draft 1 of TPB (trade paperback) #1 today and asked for permission to begin scripting TPB #2. So I am well on my way to obtaining that goal. (I have also been researching Egyptian and Norse myths to keep the idea train rolling. Insert your own Mummy joke here.) My hopes are that in 2010, my writing checks will finally exceed my part-time job checks. Again, given events that have transpired, I see this as completely doable.

Priorities, Priorties: To make the above listed goal happen, I really need to start prioritizing my life better. Which means I need to get on a strict schedule. I saw how the house degenerated during the Christmas holiday with the kids home and trapped inside because of the snow. Walkin’ around in a Winter Wonderland, my sweet Aunt Petunia!
I will not have the house degenerate this year! With Amy working and bring home the lion’s share of the income, I feel as if the house is on my shoulders. Which means I need to get on a regiment that allows me to manage the house, take care of the cooking, let’s me research and write, and still allow me to have fun playing my games.
So how does one accomplish this? By writing out my goals and delegating! Yep, time to get the kids involved. With ages of 13, 11, and 6, it is time for them to help shouldering the load. I believe the added responsibility will help all of them mature and will help me keep my sanity.
I will still do all the hard stuff but I do not see any reason not to get by with a little help from my friends… which in this case is family.

So from here we move forward into this new decade. And the house isn’t going to get clean and stories aren’t going to be written by mean diddling away on this blog. Back to the grindstone. Laundry stains prepare to face the terrible goodness of spandexed justice. And comic evil-doers, prepare to meet the wrath of my fabric softener! Wait… I may need to organize my plan of attack better….