(pasted from Word) the last post Was conveniently lost! It was NOT my Doing!
‘The world breaks people; afterward a few remain broken, the rest become stronger in the broken places’.
‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!’
‘Only the strong survive’
‘When life beats you down, keep getting back up, w/ your best smile because that shows that life and the devil haven’t taken your courage.’ Capn Richard
I’ve always enjoyed writing, well since I was a teenager and wrote an article on Bigfoot;Wildman of British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest. I did research at the library, checked out newspaper articles, etc. found in the Dewey Decimal System, and got micro-film (fiche?). Most people these days don’t even know what those things are. And, I’ve already told my age thereabouts.
A very few years later, I did a little writing on an old non-electric typewriter. Again, most on this site do not know what a real tap tap zing machine is. Unlike the electric ones, the mechanical version was all hands-on. You had to do real shifts (hold a key down and that raised the whole cartridge up and after a bit got to your finger. It’s a wonder that the old people that did their typing didn’t have severe cases of carpal-tunal syndrome. Maybe, no, they probably did because a lot of the old, gone generation had arthritis in their hands; not just from something like a typewriter, but from all the heavy manual things they had to do with their hands, like handling ice blocks (for the fridge, but that’s where ‘ice-box’ came from, the container that held a block of ice in the top and kept your food fairly fresh for a few days), chopping wood with an axe or hatchet, hauling water from the ‘crick’, turning the handle on the corn sheller (if that’s the right word), hauling feed for the livestock, milking the cow(s), handling hay bails, picking crops such as tobacco, and the worst- picking cotton. Again, most here have no clue.
Well, I came close to sailing off on another course, uncharted, that time. Soon after I started writing, life happened. Marriage, babies that turned into monsters in just 13 years, divorce, work, church, holidays with the family and the preparation for them; not to mention the un-preparation. No time for writing except when I returned to school at 24, at the local Technical Institute which is a Community College now. I had homework to do and rounded up an electric typewriter for myself. Now was the time I regretted taking the typing course in high school; and it was a big thing back then (is it now? It’s called keyboarding now, right?) for anyone leaning toward a business career. And back in the mid-eighties, the first computer courses were offered. Of course, my infinite wisdom told me that craziness would never get off the ground- I still think about giving myself a good swift kick in the rear part of the pants. The ‘craziness’ is alive and well and kicking and doing many things- from good to Really bad and anything in between.
After I got my diploma in Electrical Installation and Maintenance-two years, four nights weekly, life got a hold of me again; and, once again, wearing on me. I was expecting my second child; the first with my new wife. Child support, bills, mortgage on the house I built a couple years earlier, at age 25; one car payment, together they added up and there were no jobs, even for people with trades, like myself. I had to take a job in Charlotte, a 2 hour commute each way and many times we worked 50, 60 hours a week. Charlotte, at the time was booming, and still is to a lesser degree. There was no time for writing, at least for another thirteen years.
I started going back to school, at night, when I was 38 yrs old, part-time, again at night. I was writing again on my brand-new computer with Windows 95, a hard drive that held 2.5 gigs, with a processor, a fast 1.20 mega-hertz that I bought at Sears on sale for $2,600. Two years and two certificates later- one in Information Systems (computer curricula, basically Windows Office), the other in Cisco Networking, I had the PC bug. I wanted to learn more. My desire was to go full-time which was during the day and take Computer Engineering Technology, a degree course. BUT, I was working maintenance by then at a plant a few miles away, and the registration was less than a month away. My wife had already signed up for the Nursing curriculum, and had a problem with my going full-time at the same time, especially because we had a 13 year-old daughter that was tending toward a wild streak; now was the time we had to keep a foot on her. I told her that I was 40 and I may not get a chance to go if I didn’t go now, but there was the other ‘but’; I couldn’t school and work both in the daytime. My wife had already quit her full-time employment and taken a part-time job being that the course she was readying for was a tough one.
Like I told her, my school mood would fall beyond repair after another two years of waiting AND getting older AND I couldn’t go anyway because I had to keep working full-time. The course I wanted to take was even tougher than the nursing one. Without a move of God, there would be no more school for me for two years. Well, it turned out, God did move in my behalf because just two weeks later a second shift production job opened up, one that I had some experience in and no one else had signed up for. After being an electrician in construction and maintenance for 20 years, I was about to change up to a job that was a lot harder than maintenance. I got the job, registered and got into the curriculum I wanted. But be careful what you ask God for, you may get it. That was the toughest 2 years of my whole life and it almost cost me/ us our marriage. There was hardly any time for writing, except the necessary, but less than little for my wife and daughter, except on the weekends and I was dog-tired, plus we had the other kids every other weekend. A danged shame; had to make time to do some writing, but got little love-making.
Even after all the writing I had to do associated with school, I never stopped loving it and, by now I could type over twenty words a minute using 2, 3 fingers. I had taught myself to type, but the wrong way. It has gotten me by and that’s what counts, I suppose. I have written 2, 3 short stories, started another 2 or 3, and had started on a book, my second one. The writings I do have to be true, because I’m not very creative. I love reading fiction, but writing it was beyond me. And, because I have gotten carried away with my writing once again, I will try to slow it up, clean it up. Maybe there’s a way I can make money with my writing, but I need to hone the skills I have. I turned two short stories in to a publisher/editor for critique. And critique he did. Unless I can get a little more creative and get some real feeling into my writings, I’ll never sell anything, at least by his standards. No hard copies.
I have improved the two stories mentioned and did some more writing, but ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away’ as they say (even though it’s not in the Bible worded that way). My 6 year old laptop crashed and burned in January 2010 so badly, the geeks couldn’t get it to run long enough to get a thing from the hard drive. Five, six years of writings, documents of all kinds (even real estate ones), pictures, and music all passed away without my having a chance to say good-bye properly- by backing it all up. AND all the training, the diplomas, certificates, the degree; the typing at twenty or so words a minute, my love for writing, even Humpty-Dumpty’s men could not get one memory back. And unlike people, once a document is lost, it is dead; never to return to neither eternal life nor an eventual second death.
I lost or rather, had someone take one of my writing creations away a few nights ago. I am convinced it is the latter because of the my-point-of view religious topic it was built around. That loss was severe to me because I have lost so much of my life that had meaning. And any writing I do is so very important in that I have invested a lot of thought, some time, wear and tear on my typer and my soul, with a piece of me attached. And when one takes it away, it is lost to me; in all senses of whatever words you put to it it- it’s dead to me and I mourn, really mourn its loss. I feel like it was stolen and done away with, right in front of my eyes, for I had it on 3 browsers and every one went away when and as opened them and before I could publish the simple writing. My property, my blog was destroyed, killed, murdered, like my only brother was 6 years ago, just not as violently. If only people would think before they do any particular hurtful thing; maybe less hurtful acts would be committed and that time may then be used in a more constructive and a more caring-type act would have created something/ anything instead of the not thinking before acting, and the only production is a lack of it. This type of mentality, or lack of it only leads to an escalation of the destruction of things, entities of value of some type.