Day 6

A Political Rant

If there's one thing that has really hacked me off lately, it's probably the latest "scandal" around the President.

If you have to ask which one, I can't really say that I blame you. The one I'm referring to right now is the faux outrage over the salute that he made with a coffee cup in his hand.

To hear some conservatives talk, you'd almost think that he'd thrown a soldier on the floor and relieved himself on them.

I will grant you that he probably should have put the cup in his other hand. However, I would also point to several of Bush 43's salutes where he's holding his dog.

I suppose that's one of those things where IOIYAR applies. It's Okay If You're A Republican.

One of the people that irritated me the most on this issue was Fox Noise's Eric Bolling. He said the president should salute properly and show respect to the troops who are risking their lives for us.

This is the same nitwit who, on the same episode of his show, asked if the female pilot flying for the United Arab Emirates and dropping bombs on Islamic State oil refineries would be considered "boobs on the ground." It's Okay If You're A Republican.

I need to stop thinking about it. It's giving me a headache.

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Not all of the writing during this project will be fiction. I left open the form of the writing so that I could do whatever I felt like at the time. The point of the whole thing is to get writing done, nothing more.

Day 5

"Come here often?"

My eyebrows arched and I looked up in the direction of the voice. It belonged to a leggy redhead in a black cocktail dress.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" I asked. "The key word in that phrase is 'line.'"

She blushed a little. "I'm a little out of practice."

"I can tell," I said, letting out a short chuckle. "Don't guys usually hit on you?"

"You would think so, but sometimes I think they're intimidated by my looks."

I got up from my barstool to get a better look. She was definitely a woman that any sighted man would be attracted to. Her hair fell just past her shoulders and she had it tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were a light hazel and complemented her hair nicely.

She turned a bit to give me a side view. The dress stretched in just the right places in front and back. It's not as if the dress was painted on, but there was not a lot of spare fabric.

"May I buy you a drink?" I asked, pointing to the seat next to the one I'd just gotten up from. "You certainly earned it."

It was her turn for arched eyebrows. "Earned it?"

"It's not every day that I get hit on by a woman who looks as good as you. I'd like to reward you for giving my ego a boost."

She sat down on the seat I'd pointed to and smiled a bit. "When you put it that way, how could I refuse?"

"You could've said 'no.' Happens often enough that I've lost track of how much."

She got a look on her face that seemed to be a mix of sympathy and empathy. I began to wonder if she sat down only because she felt sorry for me.

"Well, you're certainly one of the better dressed guys in here," she said. "Not often I see a man in a suit in here."

It was true. I did have a suit on, a blue one with a white shirt, top button undone. I had taken the tie off and put it in the jacket pocket when I'd gotten out of the car.

"They say the clothes make the man, right?" I said. "I'd rather not look like a slob in a bar."

The bartender came over to where we were sitting. "Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Moscow Mule for me," I said. "Get the lady whatever she wants."

"That sounds good," she said. "Make it two, Mike."

"You got it, Carol." Mike walked away to get our drinks.

It hadn't occurred to me to ask her name, considering I thought I was getting ready to get shot down again.

"So, Carol, huh? I'm Todd."

Carol giggled a bit and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Todd."

I took her hand and brought it to my lips, placing a light kiss on the back. "So, do you come here often?"

"You could say that," Carol said, a small smirk on her face.

I could feel the "What the..." look creeping across my face. Evidently, Carol could see it and smiled.

The sound of a pair of glasses being set down on the bar broke me out of the mental haze that had been starting to roll in over me.

"Anything else?" Mike asked.

"No, Mike," Carol said. "These are on me."

"But...," I said, having been transported to the Land of Confusion.

"Mike works for me," Carol said. "I own the bar."

"Doesn't it say Carl's Bar and Grill outside?"

"It does," Carol nodded. "I bought it from a man named Carl and found it was easier to just keep the name than change it for one letter."

I picked up my glass. "A toast."

Carol picked up hers and clinked it against mine. "To?"

"A night that keeps getting more interesting."

"I'll drink to that."

I can tell you now. It did.

Day 4

Second Chances

"Steven, is that you?"

I looked up in the direction of the voice. It was Jennifer, an ex-fiance I hadn't seen in  a couple of years.

"Hey, Jen," I said. "It's been a long time."

"I meant to call," Jennifer said, walking closer to my table at the coffee shop. "It just happened so fast."

"What happened so fast? The wedding had been planned for over a year."

She dropped her head, quietly looking at the floor, as if she wanted it to open up and swallow her. The long, brown hair that I'd loved so much covered her face.

"I was scared," she whispered. "It seemed like you were too good to be true."

Jennifer slid into the booth across the table from me. She looked up at me, tears forming in the corners of her jade green eyes.

"You could have at least sent me a postcard," I said. "When I called your apartment, your roommate said you'd left and didn't say where you were going." I closed my laptop, having lost interest in the news I'd been reading about.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I wasn't sure myself."

"And when you got there?"

"I figured you'd never want to speak to me again."

"Well, this conversation proves that wasn't true." I picked up the laptop and put it down on the seat next to me.

She giggled a little, then sniffled a bit before picking up a napkin to wipe her nose. When she was done, she reached her hands across the table toward me.

"Do you believe in second chances?" she said, quietly.

I'd never been able to resist Jennifer when she wanted to hold hands.

"You know I do," I said. I took her hands in mine and smiled at her. "How did you even know I'd be here?"

"You're a creature of habit, my dear boy," she said as she smiled. "I remember the manager calling me one day when you didn't show up at your regular time."

"As I recall, you were taking care of me because I was on my couch, sick with the flu."

"Your memory is as sharp as I remember."

I chuckled a little. It had been one of the few times I'd gotten sick in the four years we had been together.

Jennifer said, "You know, I told my sister I was going to come down here."

"What did Susan say?" Susan was the member of Jennifer's family I'd gotten along with the best. We constantly gave each other a hard time about the writing projects we were each working on.

"She said, 'Be prepared for the worst, but I'll hope for the best.'"

"Good philosophy to live by." I started to pack up my laptop. "You want to go get dinner? I haven't eaten."

"Sure," she smiled. "The all-night diner down by the river?"

"You know me too well."

We got up and she waited while I put on my jacket. After I put my computer bag over my shoulder, she grabbed my other hand and started leading me toward the door. Sometimes, second chances come when you least expect them.

Day 3

Why I (Sometimes) Don't Write

Why don't I write? My muse seems to have a love-hate relationship with me.

Why don't I write? I like to think, sometimes, that I have better things to do.

Why don't I write? Playing computer games takes up a lot of my time, time I could be spending writing.

Why don't I write? The demons in my head get kinda loud, telling me my writing is no good.

Why don't I write? There are times when I get started and I realize the demons are right, at least temporarily.

Why don't I write? I do need to sleep sometime.

Day 2

Helpless

One of my friends is in some trouble, and I'm feeling a little helpless. It would help if I was a doctor, but I don't like the sight of my own blood, much less anybody else's.

I sat with him for a while yesterday and we talked about some things. He thanked me for listening when I didn't know what to say.

A nurse came in to check something. I stared at the screen, trying to use my will to force it to show my friend was doing better, but it didn't help.

Today, my friend didn't have a good day. I wanted to go see him, but I was told the doctors had said no one could come.

On my way home from doing something else, I passed right by the place my friend is staying. It made me think of him and how much I wish there was something I could do.

My friend is like family, the older brother I never had. Maybe writing this will help, trying to focus energy into helping him heal.

Just doesn't feel like enough.

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This may, or may not, be any good. Comments are welcome, if you have any thoughts on the matter, one way or the other.

Day 1

Why I Write

Why do I write? I feel like I have things to say that flow better through my hands than they might through my mouth.

Why do I write? I feel there is a book banging around in my head and if I write enough, maybe it will start to come out.

Why do I write? It's something I've been told I'm good at by people who are not related to me, thus having less inclination to lie. There are a few who are even paid to teach people to write that have said it.

Why do I write? It's a way I can get attention without people having to look at me. It's helpful on days that I'm not feeling all that presentable.

Why do I write? It's a way to pass the time that doesn't involve something self-destructive, like drinking or eating too much.

Why do I write? It helps keep the demons in my head quiet for a little while.

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This is the first day of what I hope is, at least, a year-long writing project. I figured today would be as good a day as any other.

It's my 44th birthday and it's useful as a milestone.

I know I have another blog, but I wanted something separate because at least some of the writing here will have very little to do with soccer, if anything.

So, bear with me while I try to make writing a daily habit. Who knows, maybe we'll both have some fun along the way.