![10PM on a Friday Night… Goodnight Everybody!]()
by Richard Timothy | Jan 24, 2010 | Adolescent Shenanigans, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid
This weekend hit a transitional moment in my life… Ohhh sounds ominous doesn’t it? Truth is, it’s probably just a fluke or a random phenomenon, enous, eni, no ena… yeah phenomena, I think that’s right. So a phenomena in opposition to what is a staple of my aging night life.
It’s kind of sad really. In the earlier version of myself I was quite a professional night owl. Of course I had very good teachers. My parents were always up until midnight or one, or two in the morning, or… actually 2AM on a weekday was usually the latest anyone would stay up when I was little. The thing was it was normal. I remember having a conversation with one of the local cops who said that one thing he could always count on was that the Timothy house would always be lit up well into the middle of the night.
The late night teen years encompassed the most concentrated collection of late nights and consecutive all-nighters. I think my record was three days without any sleep. It’s not that I have had anything to do or any homework, or any Atari games to keep me up. No, I think it’s because I wanted to write really bad teenage poetry about girls I had crushes on that I believe the parlance of the time was “didn’t even know I existed.” After the half way through the second night, I think the motivation shifted to, “I just wanted to see how long I could go without sleep.”
It was on the third day of no sleep where I had my first and only hallucination. It was during my art class, 5th period, right after lunch. I was working on a pencil drawing of a lady in a dress almost in a profile view and with her arm hanging down to the side, in front of the dress.
Everything was fine and normal. I was shading along the dress next to the arm and then it happened. The arm became three dimensional and popped out of the drawing, just hanging there in front of the dress. I wasn’t worried or confused was to why my a portion of drawing had decided to become three dimensional, I was just annoyed. I kept trying to shade the dress around the arm, but the arm kept moving to where I was shading, constantly getting in my way. So I started grabbing the arm and moving it out of the way so I could shade the dress. I kept losing my grip and the arm kept moving back to get in the way again.
This lasted about five minutes, until I heard someone saying my name. It pulled me out of the intense focus I was giving drawing. I looked up and sitting across me was one of the other kids in class. “Yeah?” He started explaining what he saw and wanted to know if I was alright. Apparently the action of my grabbing at my drawing, trying to push the arm out of the way was a little visually disturbing to the boy.
I told him I was just a little tired. Adding, “Damn it.” when I looked back down at my picture saw what I had being doing to my drawing. It was starting to look like the dress was coming through the middle of the lady’s arm. I commented I should probably go home a little early and started erasing my artistic result of my hallucination in art class. Once I got home I took a 13 hour nap.
Things have not changed all that much from my youth apart from the all-nighters. I mean I do get to bed a bit sooner, usually midnight. Going to bed early is being in bed by 11PM. So when this Friday arrived let’s just say it had been a full week, which left me a touch worn out. I thought about taking a nap, but got side tracked with a new book I’m reading. After thirty or forty pages my eyes started reminding, through a series of uncontrolled shutting that, oh yeah, I was going to take a little nap. Knowing that I had missed my window of napping opportunity I decided it was time to get some sleep instead.
I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. I looked at my clock and make sure the alarm was turned off so I could sleep in a bit and, guess what? It was just barely 10 o’clock. Un-bloody-believable, 10 PM on a Friday night, I was going to bed earlier than I have in almost 10 months (being ill the only exception). I thought about it for a few minutes, then came to the conclusion, “Bugger it”, I was tired.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: art class, lit up house, and man sleeping.
![10PM on a Friday Night… Goodnight Everybody!]()
by Richard Timothy | Jan 21, 2010 | My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I’ve been thinking about a conversation my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh and I had a few days ago. And you know, since starting this blog thing, you’d be amazed how many times a week I hear the sentence, “And no, you can’t put this in your blog.” as the closing remarks to some of our conversations. This conversation, however, was not one of them.
I guess one of the things to start out with is to explain a little about my love, my Angela. I think it would be safe to say that we would still not be married if she has not proposed. I always get mixed reactions when I tell people this. Men commonly give me a sort of “well done” nod of approval. Women on the other hand usually give me a “you romanceless lout” look, but it usually passes once they get to know me.
We actually met at work. We even shared an office for a while. And No! There was no hanky-panky at work. I’m a professional damn it… better make that a we. We’re professionals damn it! I know it’s a bit cliché to admit we had an office romance, but, well, yeah we did.
We did keep it mostly hidden. I mean our boss knew obviously. Mainly because she was the one who introduced us and had, on more than one occasion, subtly implied to me that she thought we would make a good couple and would like to see us go out… No, it wasn’t a boss to employee request, like “Get this newsletter finished and mailed out by Friday.” So, like, “Take Angela out to lunch this Wednesday and tell her how beautiful she is.” And come to think of it, it wasn’t subtle at all. It was much more of a matter of fact statement and suggestion, you know, in a wink, wink, nudge, nudge kind of way.
Once our professional relationship evolved to a private relationship I’m sure more people at work figured it out, but there wasn’t a lot anyone could say. I mean the president of the company’s wife use to be his receptionist, which is much more cliché than our situation. In clarification of his character though I will point out that he was not married at the time, making his situation much less cliché than the married boss sleeping with his secretary, so kudos to him for that.
Anyway, back to the conversation Angela and I were having. It was about self progression or development, but more than that. It was about investing in yourself. For a lot of people, college or a trade school is the big self investment. For others, buying books and reading about things that ignite a spark in them to make a change or start a business is a self investment. It doesn’t have to be a self help book, or a comprehensive comparison of world religions, but maybe for some it does. That’s the nice thing about investing in ones self. It’s all personal and very subjective to each individual.
Angela has gone to a number of trainings and seminars as part of her self investment, and they have been amazing experiences for her. I have even accompanied her to a few, and I have always gotten something out of them. Sometimes it’s just a nugget that has helped open a door inside, letting me reevaluate and adapt some knowledge of who I was to become who I am. Then sometimes it’s like walking into an old room that has not been visited in years and you walk over to the window and open the blinds. Light fills a room in your mind that has been dark and dusty for far too long. Sometime you cry, sometimes you laugh, and sometimes you just quietly sit there.
I think one of the things about self investment is being ok with attaching a monetary value to it. Whether it’s spending $300 to go to a writing conference or $10 for a used book on eBay, I am making that purchase because I know I am worth it. When people pay for something they are going to be more invested in it. People want to get their money’s worth, and they are much more willing to do the work required of them to make sure it’s as worthwhile as possible.
I’m pretty sure that if my college education were free I wouldn’t have completed nearly as many homework assignments as I did, and my all nighters would have consisted of a lot more libation and togas a lot less retention. But because I was paying for it my all nighters consisted of studying and writing and rewriting the same paper just to make sure it was right and that I was learning what I needed to from the class.
Self investing is not just a belief, it’s a personal knowledge. I know I am worth the 40 dollars I spent on a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda. It opens up my heart when I read it. It gets my brain processing word painted imagery so vivid that I can almost taste the salt from the sea and feel its mist caressing the skin on my arms. It ignites my love for words and inspires me to create, and write, and share.
Honestly $40 is a very small investment based on the way it assists me not only as a writer, but as a person. Likewise, when I purchase books on writing, or on being a writer, or things that focus on writing tools that can be used to strengthen the development of my characters, all these are self investments. And if I paid for the book, you can bet your ass I’m going to read it, and mark it if as well. Some books help, some might not, but I’m willing to invest in the time and money to continue to expand myself as a writer and a person.
In Angela’s case, she is opened up by investing in herself through programs and processes and the interaction that goes along with that. Then again that is what she is all about. Inspiring others to be who they really are after the fear is removed and their true self worth looks them in the eye. She loves to assist people in facing and accepting their greatness, then with open arms give to and receive from the world. Angela is about empowering others, especially other women, so they can empower themselves, and eventually empower others as well. Everyone deserves to connect to their own greatness and share it with others. She is a living example of that.
Sure I’m biased when it comes to talking about my amazing, beautiful Angela, but I believe in her and in the message she has begun sharing with the world. She is putting together a woman’s conference at the end of February. (Yes, a woman’s conference, sorry guys.) So today I’d like to invite you to take a look at her site. Read a little about what she is doing to assist and empower women. Check out all the amazing people she is bring together to talk and present their messages of love, and hope, and healing the world one person at a time. I honestly believe her conference is something all women not only should experience, but deserve to experience.
Please go to Illuminated Woman to see what it is she’s doing.
http://illuminatedwoman.com/
Thanks for checking out.
Let me know what do you think?
Image Sources:
Illuminated Woman
and Google Images, key words: conversation, office romance, investing in yourself, and man reading.
![10PM on a Friday Night… Goodnight Everybody!]()
by Richard Timothy | Jan 18, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Pratchett Perspective
I have much love, adoration, reverence, befuddlement (mainly because I don’t think that word is used enough these days) and gratitude for the writings of one Mr. Terry Pratchett, of the Sir variety. I remember when I was first introduced to his work. I was sitting in my college dorm room reading along and the next thing I knew I was laughing out loud, so much so that I began a bit of literary rewinding. Once I got done laughing, I’d turn back a page, began rereading the section, and then start laughing all over again.
I’m certain that my appreciation of this man’s writing will be addressed on more than one occasion, but today I wanted to talk about one of the things I love most about the Discword series, and that is all the literary cameos you get from book to book. There are over 30 books in this series now, and that’s just it, the core of all these books is the Discworld. Then you have all these stories about the people that live there.
There are books about the reluctant and cowardly hero Rincewind. There are books about Death and his granddaughter. There’s Sam Vimes and his band of misfit coppers, The City Watch. There are books about the Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax and the other witches on the Disc. There are so many more characters too. They are personalities that you either partially, mostly, or completely identify with, because they either remind you of yourself, or someone you know… or someone you hope to someday know… or in some cases hope to never know.
Regardless, you find yourself connecting with these people, and because there is more than one story about them, usually, you get to know them better and better. Cheering them on every step of the way. Even if what they are attempting something that is one chance is a million… but it just might work.
So in getting back to my main point, one of the things I love about reading the Discworld books are all the cameo appearances from characters you’ve met in other books. There you are, reading along about something happening in Ankh-Morpork and all of a sudden there’s a member of the City Watch chatting with the hero of the book. And there you are, giving a mental nod or wave to Nobby Nobbs, because, Hey! You know him.
And how could we forget the eclectic collection of cameo appearances by the one and only Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, and all the Dibbler egos, or cultural counterparts, found on each Discworld continent. There is Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah from Small Gods, and Al-Jiblah from Jingo. Also, Disembowel-Meself-Honourably Dibhala of Interesting Times fame. I’m sure there’s more, I still have a few more books to get through, and I am looking forward to finding out. It’s like running into an old high school friend while you are visiting some random city. Sure it’s a bit of a surprise and the conversation is usually short and in passing, but you are genuinely pleased to have seen them.
Such is the case with these literary cameos. The appearance may not last that long, often it’s a sort of hi, hello, how are you, and then back to things as normal. That part of its magic and appeal thought. The Disc is a whole world of characters and personalities that keep popping in every now and again for a short visit just because they happen to be in the area, and most of the time you’re not even expecting them. Well, at least initially that’s the case.
Now, it’s just part of the process. Part of the experience that is reading a Discworld novel. I might occasionally ask, “I wonder who it will be this time?” when I start reading a book I haven’t read before… or haven’t read for a few years, but it doesn’t late long. They show up when they do, whoever they may be.
So, to all you readers that have read one, some, most, or all the Discworld novels, I’d like to think that you, like me, take comfort in the knowledge that someone you know will be dropping by to say hi. It’s a thought that always brings a smile to my face every time I crack open a Discworld book. Well done and thank you sir, er, I guess Sir Terry… Pratchett. It’s always a pleasure.
What are some of your favorite Discworld cameos?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Terry Pratchett, Discworld, and Disworld Death.
This weekend hit a transitional moment in my life… Ohhh sounds ominous doesn’t it? Truth is, it’s probably just a fluke or a random phenomenon, enous, eni, no ena… yeah phenomena, I think that’s right. So a phenomena in opposition to what is a staple of my aging night life.
It was on the third day of no sleep where I had my first and only hallucination. It was during my art class, 5th period, right after lunch. I was working on a pencil drawing of a lady in a dress almost in a profile view and with her arm hanging down to the side, in front of the dress.
Things have not changed all that much from my youth apart from the all-nighters. I mean I do get to bed a bit sooner, usually midnight. Going to bed early is being in bed by 11PM. So when this Friday arrived let’s just say it had been a full week, which left me a touch worn out. I thought about taking a nap, but got side tracked with a new book I’m reading. After thirty or forty pages my eyes started reminding, through a series of uncontrolled shutting that, oh yeah, I was going to take a little nap. Knowing that I had missed my window of napping opportunity I decided it was time to get some sleep instead.
