Immaturity makes a Good Movie but a Crappy Life

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I just watched a movie called Baby on Board. In it, the main characters, Jerry O'Connell and Heather Graham, have a huge misunderstanding. Each thinks the other is cheating on their marriage. Both are given bad advice by their friends. Neither wants to talk about it to each other and get it worked out. Both are willing to let their marriage and lives be destroyed because neither has the most basic level of maturity needed to do the one thing needed to save it: Talk like adults.

If they had talked like mature adults, it would've taken about five seconds until they figured out they were both wrong, and worked it out. Of course, then we wouldn't've had a movie to watch.

The sad thing is, the movie isn't that far-fetched. There are a lot of people who would rather fight than figure out what the problem is and get it taken care of. But there was a lot more ruining their relationship than the two of them not talking.

For instance, they both assumed the other was guilty and delivered punishment on the basis of that assumption. That's what happens when you don't talk things out or care about the truth.

Here in the United States and many other parts of the world, our courts and in fact our very way of life is based on the presumption of innocence. Take that away, and where are we left? If we never trust anyone, we never grow.

Look at it this way: even on the microscopic scale, cells have to learn how to work together to accomplish things they can't do apart. Some cells become muscles, some become skin, some get together to form a brain, and before you know it, a trillion cells are working together to form a whole that is far greater than the sum of its parts. Sure, there are more bacteria than there are Humans, but bacteria can't build rocket ships.

In ancient times, people learned how to trust each other and work together to form villages. Some people would gather food, while others would make clothes, and still others would look after the children, and still others would protect the village from wild animals. Over time, these groups learned how to trust other groups and grow their villages into cities. Cities learned to work together to form states. States form alliances and trade unions like the United States or the European Union or NATO. And one day, these alliances will unify into a single world government. Bacteria can't do that because bacteria don't know how to work together. Bacteria don't trust each other.

The presumption of innocence is what allows people to believe in their family, to make friends, and to form relationships of all kinds. The presumption of innocence is what trust is ultimately founded upon. Without trusting someone, you can't make anything larger than yourself. And if you can't make anything larger than yourself, you have no purpose in life. You may as well shrivel up and stop breathing all my oxygen.

Assuming guilt is what a pessimist does. Pessimists lead very unsatisfactory lives and never amount to anything. They're too busy trying to get ahead by tearing others down. Assuming strangers aren't out to get you is a positive outlook to have. Not all positive people go down in the history books, but only positive people ever do anything worthwhile. They get ahead by building other people up, who then return the favor.

Imagine a bunch of people are stuck in a big hole and they all want out. At first they fight amongst each other. Each one wants the others to help him get out, but no one trusts anyone enough to work together, and they stay in the hole. If anyone tries to climb out on his own, he is quickly pulled back; no one wants to let anyone else be the first out of the hole, for fear they'll run away with the rope. But if they decide to work together and trust one another, then they can boost one person out, who can then tie off the rope and toss it back down and help pull someone else out. Then the two can pull more people out, and so on, until everyone is out of the hole.

It's pretty simple, folks. Expect lousy things and no one wins. Expect great things and everyone wins. And if you're having a problem with someone, talk to them and get it worked out.

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More articles you'll find interesting or amusing:
You are What you Consume
Writing is Easy
Webster's Rejects

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What do half a million bikers look like

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I want to thank everyone for making the 14th anniversary of my 25th birthday the best party I've had in a long time! I've got big plans for next year, when I hit the BIG ONE FIVE! Even my stalkers paid homage by leaving me alone for the duration. You can't ask for more than that, can you?

A few months ago I finally checked out Facebook, and through it, re-met a bunch of guys I used to know in the Navy while I was on the Bataan, including one sweet little heartbreaker who can't stop telling me how funny and smart I am. (I don't mean the married ones.) We've got a lot in common, but she lives a few hundred miles away and I promised myself I wouldn't take any big trips until I got something published, so now I want to get that done so I can see if she'll make good on all her flirting.

Then last week, half a million bikers came to see me for my birthday. Some of them also celebrated Daytona Beach's 70th Bike Week. I took one of my lady friends downtown that first weekend to check everything out. She makes for a great biker babe, if you guys are looking for a girl who's smart and about to publish a book about anceint Egyptian religion and prophecies that came true. Cool stuff! And she's almost done with the second draft. I gotta tell ya, guys, it's great someone as smart as her trusts me to edit her work. Don't get any ideas, though, because I'm not doing this professionally. (Unless you hit me with a really big check!)

We saw a ton of super-awesome bikes, including one that looked like it came out of a 1940's junkyard (I call it the Redd Foxx bike), a dragon bike, an airplane bike, and some unbelievable paint jobs. And some really interesting bikinis. Yes, those are painted on.

Then my favorite nephew arrived with a couple of his best buds, and they tore up the skateboard park something gnarly! I took a few videos of them. They'll blow your mind!

I took them downtown too, and we did some club-hopping, where we had to fight off all the girls. Much as we wanted to, we couldn't take home every girl who wanted to come. Most had to stay behind and wait for our return. A quick tip, ladies: jealousy is hot as long as it's not destructive. You start tearing up property, and I don't want anything to do with you. The exception is when it exposes more female flesh.

We rode around town a couple more days while the weather cooperated, and whipped out the MegaMonopoly and Munchkin when it didn't. I'm proud to say there's still something I can whoop them at, and it's called games. Not every time, but I won more than my share. I'm really glad I got to hang out with them and get reconnected with that part of who I am. All you people who are getting old, go hang out with your kids for a while without judging them and just absorb what they have to offer. Be a part of it. You'll be amazed at yourself.

Finally, the boys left yesterday, giving me some time to catch up on my writing. I'm so behind! I had to whip out this article so fast I couldn't even spell-check it, and now I need to write a couple more good ones and put them in the queue so I can then get back to work on some really good books.

What if the Civil War had started in 1821, before the North had a strong industrial base to defeat the South with? What if a woman who thinks she lacks only a husband fell in love with her disinterested rescuer while they both had to dodge a killer? What if a woman fell in love with her own stalker and had to rebuild her ruined life and career? What if a man had to ask his wife to become a stripper to feed their kids and one of her clients abducted her for a white-slavery ring? If the Sun was going to blow up in 30 years, would we be able to escape to other stars in time?

A lot of good ideas start with asking yourself what would happen if.

Not just books, either, but even in your real life. If life was simple, what would it be like? If you had no limits on time or money, what would you be doing? So what's stopping you? What if you could overcome those limits, would you go for it? What would it take to overcome those limits?

I ask myself these kinds of things once in a while. I should do it even more. So should you. And then let your mind come up with the answers in its own good time. Usually it just takes a few minutes to a day or two.

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Bruce Lee's Goals

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Pick up any book about improving your life and it will tell you that you need to write down your specific goals. Most people don't quite get the point; if they write their goals at all, they're usually pretty nebulous. "I want to be rich and famous." "I want to be happy."

What does it mean to be rich? Having a dollar? $1000? A million dollars? A billion?

What is happiness for you? Crushing your enemies to dust? Waking up in the morning? Eating anything you want any time you want?

You know who Bruce Lee is. You know what he's done. But Bruce Lee didn't just happen into fame and fortune, he worked for it. He set goals and focused on achieving them. Don't believe me? Here's a copy of Bruce Lee's goal statement, written in 1969.

Can you did what Bruce Lee did?

Absolutely you can!

Maybe you don't want to be the best martial artist in the world, maybe you don't want to be the most famous person in the world, and maybe you don't want to have $10 million in your pocket within the next 11 years, but you can still make definite goals and work toward them. Write down exactly what you will have and what you will do and what you will be and when it will happen. Read it every day. Believe in it and in yourself. Work toward it. And it will be yours.

BTW, Bruce Lee wants you to hit the LIKE button at the top of the left column.

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Further reading to pique your interest:
You are What you Consume
I'm Totally in Love with this Lady
Centennial Celebration
Got Lobstah?

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Expose Yourself #4 – Mrs. Hart, in the Library, with the Lead Pipe

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In this series of articles, I talk to people who have been successful at taking control of their lives, making a name for themselves, and helping others to do the same. I’m very fortunate to have met them, and very thankful they have agreed to spend a few minutes talking with me to share part of their stories. We’re going to delve into what it took to propel these people from ordinary lives into extraordinary lives. We’ll find out where they’ve been, where they are, and where they’re going as each guest is asked to “Expose Yourself”.

Today’s guest came all the way from Iran to see me, where she worked for an international bank and as Director of Volunteers for the American Women’s Club. She has also lived in New York, where she ran a horse farm and an art gallery, among other amazing endeavors, and is where she met her husband of 30 years.

Her first interactive murder mystery, Murder in Morocco, was produced in 1995 at the Richfield Springs Regional Theater in New York. Over the next ten years she wrote interactive plays and educational/interactive children’s plays, which were performed by the theater company she founded, Murder Mysteries on Call, Inc. When she came to Florida, she renamed her company to Make Mine Murder. One of her plays, “Murder in Morocco,” was made into a musical, which garnered seven Outstanding Achievement awards by the New York State Theatre Association, for Original Script, Original Score, and Original Lyrics, plus set design, costumes, props, and hair/makeup.

Nowadays, far from resting on her laurels, you’re likely to find her at the Daytona Playhouse, where she often directs, acts in, and designs and builds sets. She’s also written several books. Somehow, with all that going on, she still finds time to run a chapter of the Florida Writer’s Association, where she helps aspiring writers perfect their craft. Please give a warm welcome to Veronica Hart!

JC: Hey there, Ronnie, you’re looking fabulous as ever!

VH: Thank you. It’s all the vitamins and magic potions I use.

JC: You don’t believe in the standard definition of “retired,” do you? You’re going to be 70 this year. Any plans to slow down and act your age?

VH: I am acting my age – it’s the others who think “retirement” means they have to stop living and watch television for the rest of their lives.

JC: That does sound like a better plan. So let me ask you; where are you in your life, or your career, or the pursuit of your goals?

VH: I am finally achieving some measure of success with my writing career and also feel very accomplished with directing plays and designing sets for theater. My first published novel, The Prince of Keegan Bay is coming out today as an e-book from Champagne Books. It will later be produced as a paperback. It’s about an infant Middle Eastern prince being hunted by assassins, and the group of quirky adult community residents who protect him.

VH: I’ve also just submitted my first completed young adult novel, Escape from Iran, to the ABNA (Amazon Breakout Novel Awards) competition, where it has so far made it past the first round of judging. Though I’ve had stories and articles published throughout the years, these two books represent what I really want to do: entertain people with my writing.

JC: That’s exciting news! When is the second round? What happens when you win?

VH: Second round winners are announced on March 22nd. Let’s not jinx it with any other response, you know; counting chickens and all that.

JC: Having seen you in action, I can’t help having high expectations. How did you get started writing?

VH: When I met my husband Bob on New Year’s Eve 1978, he asked me what I really wanted to do with my life. At the time I owned a small farm in Warwick, NY, with a rental cottage, boarded horses, and owned and operated an art store and gallery in the village. I told him I really wanted to write and he asked me, “Then why aren’t you?” I thought the answer was simple, “I have three daughters I have to support, besides working about fifteen hours a day.” But, he was right. With his encouragement, I enrolled in the Institute of Children’s Literature.

VH: After a few months of this mail order course, I sent in a short story to a religious magazine, preparing myself to learn how to accept rejection slips. Within a week, I received a check! I thought, “This is easy.” During this course, I began writing Escape from Iran. When it was finished, I sent it off, with the blessings of my instructor, to a major publisher. It was returned a couple of months later with a nicely written letter from the editor, explaining that my heroine was not likeable enough. I thought, “that’s the end of that,” and stuck it away in a drawer until last summer, when I pulled it out, had someone enter it into the computer for me, and then edited like crazy.

JC: I’m glad you realized he was right. How did you get where you are?

VH: The answer to that is persistence. During these past thirty years both Bob and I have conducted writing workshops, writing groups, and then when we lived in Cooperstown and ran a bed and breakfast, during the off seasons we had writers’ retreats. During all this time, I continued to learn and to write. I must have half a dozen not quite finished novels waiting for me.

JC: Only half a dozen? You can whip that out in no time. Where are you going next? What’s the next goal, the next step, the next whatever?

VH: We’d love to return to the south of Spain, possibly to live. We spent a month there several years ago and loved the climate, the people, the culture. And the prices. If that can’t happen, I guess I’ll just keep writing, directing, and hoping for a huge success with one of my books so we can then continue to travel – something we both love to do. If we can work it out, next spring it’s on to Russia! One of my books is set in Leningrad (modern day St. Petersburg) and there’s a great cruise going there right from Port Canaveral. I’d love to be on that ship.

JC: What are you doing to get there?

VH: You know, Jaycee, after spending the first thirty years of my life in a reactive mode, I finally took some control and began trying to plot things out for myself. That didn’t work any better. It’s so true that life is what happens while you’re busy making plans. I keep on writing, trying to improve myself, and hope to continue learning through teaching. We plot; we scheme; we strive; we eventually achieve.

JC: You’re definitely achieving a lot, Ronnie. Writing books and plays, running your own production company, seeing the world... Sounds like an exciting time to be alive! I can hardly wait to find out what you do next. Good luck with Prince of Keegan Bay, it sounds like a fun read.

VH: Thank you for this opportunity. Keegan Bay is a fun read, very tongue-in-cheek, but the focus of the story is just what I said earlier about “acting my age.” The group of seniors in the retirement community must use their wits and skills to protect the infant. The community comes alive, many abandoning their Bingo and card games, even including help from 91 year old, Howard, who loves his brandy but recalls some tricks from working with the French resistance during WWII. Next, there are two books at about sixty thousand words and I must kill one person in each book. Who shall it be? Tough choices.

Hey everyone, be sure to check out Veronica Hart's website and wish her luck on her competition.


CLICK HERE to get your very own copy of The Prince of Keegan Bay fresh off the digital presses.












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Further reading to astonish and amaze:
"Expose Yourself" Articles List
Crime Wave hits Palm Coast
Profiling: Is It Good or Bad?
Leyland French - 1995

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The Streetcar Rumbled along Bourbon Street

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The streetcar rumbled along Bourbon Street with a slight limp in its rolling gait, jammed with more passengers than it had any right or license to carry. Only the conductor cared of its plight, and he just barely, because he would get into trouble if that wobble turned into serious damage... or a turned ankle. Kept in service with the minimum of effort and financial outlay possible, the streetcar's aches and pains would continue to go unnoticed until disaster struck.

Brakes squealed the car to a halt. Rusty metal springs long past their design life sighed relief as people disembarked, then groaned with new strain as more replaced them. The overworked engine strained with palpable trepidation to get back to cruising speed, just barely above that of a walking toddler.

The sun took its time burning off the misty morning fog. The commuters were largely silent and solomn today, as if speaking were taboo. As if doing anything more than the absolute minimum required to get to work would trigger something... undesirable.

Rounding a sharp turn, the streetcar's brakes had their resolve tested. A black Ford SUV had pulled out in front of it and came to a halt. The two vehicles collided at the break-neck speed of five miles per hour. There were too many passengers standing for anyone to fall over. A few of the seated ones bumped their heads or strained their necks. Most were unharmed but shocked.

Two dark-suited men emerged from the damaged SUV and quickly approached the streetcar and barged into the front door. "Will everyone please get out of the car? Calm and orderly, get out of the car and move away from it, please."

Those who could, did.

"What's going on?" the conductor asked, worried. Others echoed him, but kept moving. "Who are you?"

"Please, everyone just stay calm. Exit and move away from the car," was his repetative answer. His partner rolled onto the ground and under the streetcar, then climbed under it. The crowd's murmurs paradoxically increased in intensity as their numbers thinned. He searched the bottom of the car, needing only a moment to find what he was looking for. "I found it!" was the last thing he ever said.

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"Don't be monkeyin' around with that irrigation system, boy," Todd teased his nephew. "We need it if we're gonna eat."

"I just wanted to play with it, I won't hurt it," little Jonny protested.

Todd picked up the four year old and put him on his shoulders as they dove into the cornfield. Row upon row of stalks whisked past them under Todd's long strides. For a moment, there seemed to be nothing but peace between them, as if both were afraid to speak. But then, the cornfield came to an end, and beyond it was a pasture with a big tree and a treehouse.

"Your dad and I built this here treehouse when we were about your age," Todd told his charge. "We called it our citadel."

Presented like that, Jonny saw past the squalorous condition it was in and imagined himself fighting off a dragon which was trying to climb that tree to get him. Putting his nephew back on his own feet, Uncle Todd let Jonny climb to the top, where he perched like a deity, surveying over the whole pasture. Jonny laughed in delight at his daydreams. A dog loped toward them, barking at the ruckus.

"You can come here any time you like, Jonny. Your dad'll always be here with you, watchin' over you, and you can talk to him any time you want."

Jonny stopped and looked around. "I see him!" he proclaimed, and pointed at a fluffy cloud. Sure enough, that cloud resembled a person. Perhaps it really was his brother, murdered in the line of duty, whom he would soon seek to avenge, once his nephew was taken care of.

The dog barked more, this time at a delivery van heading up the long gravel driveway. "I see it, boy," Todd soothed the dog to silence, then called up to his nephew, "Hey, I'm goin' to see what we're gettin' in the mail. Could be somethin' special. You're welcome to come see if you want."

Jonny climbed down almost as quickly as he'd gotten up there, and Todd replaced him on his shoulders for their trip back through the cornfield.

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The above is a composite of two seperate writing challenges. They seemed to go together fairly well.

The first challenge was to write a short story out of a beginning phrase, in this case, "The streetcar rumbled along Bourbon Street." Everyone else made that into a complete sentence and then went on from there, while I made it into a longer sentence.

The second challenge was to use as many of a selection of ten words as possible in a short story. The words I was given were: Digestive, ruckus, speak, irrigate, squalor, deity, monkey, delivery, citadel, and avenge. I couldn't find a way to use 'digestive' here without forcing it. Most of the other people thought of having difficulty digesting pizza, or they had monkeys in prominent roles.

In both cases, we had 15 minutes to write, so that's just enough time to write about a page, page and a half. I'm a bit slow, it seems. I did expand on the upper story to unite it with the second one a little more seamlessly. Only the first two paragraphs were written as part of the challenge, but what I added to link them is pretty much where I wanted to go with it with the foreshadowing of the decrepit nature of the car.

If you want to be a good writer, you've got to write. If you want to learn how to shorten your writing, you need to write short stories. So that's what I'm doing, and hopefully I'll be able to make my full-sized books as gripping as these little nuggets.

I'll have more for you later, as I've done several of these challenges over the past few months. Let me know how you liked this one, maybe I'll explore it a little further for you.

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A Dry Feet Shower

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I'm not an especially hairy guy, but I've got some, and over the years I've lived here, I've managed to clog the sink and bathtub a few times. Good ol' Liquid Drano bails me out every time.

However, a couple months ago, when I had to do my annual Drano ritual, it didn't work. Neither sink nor tub would drain, meaning it took extra effort to clean my shavings out of the sink and I had to stand in water during my shower. The liquid form of Drano failed me, so I tried the gel. It had worked last couple times, but this time it too failed. I tried that new dual-Drano, you know, the foaming one that's supposed to be super-effective.

Didn't make a dent in it.

I didn't know what to do! I'd spent about $30 without result. With both drains clogged, surely I'd need to call a plumber to run a snake down there. I hemmed and hawed and thought about it for a while, doing my best to withstand the horrid tragedy of having to stand in water during a shower.

Finally, I broke down and asked my dad what I should do.

Next thing you know, he shows up with a bottle of some other brand of liquid drain cleaner. It looked like it was industrial strength. He poured some down each drain, and 15 minutes later ran water down, and sure enough, it drained! Yay!

Now my feet can stay dry in the shower and I can easily rinse out my sink after a shave. Now if I could just get this stupid low-flow toilet to flush properly all the time...

In other news, tomorrow at the Daytona Beach library, we've got a guest speaker, Vic DiGenti! Exciting times! Hurry on down, the meeting starts at 12:15, and we'll probably be going over to Stavro's about 2:30 or so for the after-party. Weather-permitting I'll be riding my motorcycle in celebration of my county-wide birthday party, which the locals affectionately call "Bike Week". People come from all over the country and all over the world to wish me a happy birthday. Get in on the action! Get me one of these for my birthday!


















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More articles which will interest or entertain you:
The 'Israelification' of airports: High security, little bother
Maps are freakin' awesome
How to Talk Like a Trucker

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