Story in one sitting

I woke up in a haze of disbelief. The aliens had attacked with such boldness. The bump on the back of my head was killing me...The aliens had taken my truck, my lawn mower and my girlfriend. I grimaced at what might happen to the old F-150. It was vintage and I had just had it painted sea-foam green. Two grand. A real piece of work. And now it was being probed by long green fingers. It made my blood boil and the knot on my skull tingle. "They must be extremely advanced though" I thought as I rummaged around the beer cooler.
They did make a whopper of an error in taking Cindy though. Ah. So goes life. You gotta take the good with the bad. There would be no enjoying sweet if there wasn't no sour, right? I straighted up and tapped the top of a cold one. I smiled. Those buggers are gonna learn that soon enough all right.
Now don't get me wrong. Cindy was a Doll. Happy as a silver dollar. But, she chewed up the couch so bad that I had to chain her to the ball hitch of the Ford! Just to teach her, mind you. They call it positive reinforcement--learned it in college. I took a sip of my frosty brew, and wondered if the aliens had colleges too? I could just imagine it "Zorg, take it to light speed! It is essential that we make it to Alpha Centauri before the eclipse!" A pause, and from below decks the concerned voice of an alien engineer. "Captain, it appears that the earth woman has chewed into our photon reactor--we'll be lucky to get to the moon! Permision to chain her to the stabilizer" Heh! he! You know? Hah! Dadgum it. Thats why they took her. She must have still been chained to the Ford! I walked outside. Whoo boy. Chilly. The dawn was coming and light was spilling over the horizon. Reminded me of the spaceship. I sat on the steps of the trailor and thought 'bout the weirdness of the night. I looked up at the twinkling morning star and whispered, tunefully to my self a bit of a song that always took me through the rough days. "What a wonderful world..."

For the Genuinely Bored

After re-reading this, I realise that the Types Test was developed by Myers and Briggs not Jung.

So,
I remember once walking down the hallway of my beloved old dormitory and hearing people say things like "Oh! so you're an ENTP? How interesting! I'm a INPS." Yavapai was an Honors dorm at the University of Arizona, and so I was accustomed to hearing things that made little or no sense to me. At the time, I figured that they must have been talking about some nerdy roll-playing computer game. I now know that they were talking about Jungian Personality types. Let me briefly explain.

The letters mentioned, correspond to adjectives such as "Extroverted", "Feeling", "Perceiving" ect... All combinations combined(handy how that works eh), there are 16 personality types, all of which are characterized by certain idiosyncratic social and emotional tendencies.
There are the "Visionaries" for example, who are extroverts and are extremely driven to lead and scheme and so forth. There are the "Pedagogues" who are perceptive and lively. I, being curious, recently took a Meyers-Briggs personality "test" online and was intrigued to see that it had pegged me as an "ISFP". The "Peacemaker".

Now, certain family members might not agree with Meyers or Briggs on this assesment, but all in all it jived with me. After looking at general personality attributes of the "ISFP" type as explained on various websites, I decided, though not perfect, the results were pretty consistent. Now, of course, Jung's system isn't perfect. There's no "Peeping Tom" or "Sexual Deviant" personality type, but of course all of the sixteen types do have inherent weaknesses. I found some of "mine" funny.

To wit: May have skewed or unrealistic ideas about reality, May be unaware of appropriate social behavior, May be oblivious to their personal appearance, or to appropriate dress, May come across as eccentric, or perhaps even generally strange to others, without being aware of it, Under great stress, may feel out of control and fearful, dwelling on the "dark side" of things.


Hah! Me? Stressed? Never! *sarcasm. I have plenty of positve traits as well, but wouldn't get such a kick out of writing those. Anyhow, I thought PeaceMaker was apropos because I am in the process of trying to join the PeaceCorps. It must be fate.

Anyhow, go ahead! Take a personality test online! (Mine was courtesy of a Facebook application called "MyTYPE). Compare your results to mine, and see how your type relates to my "ISFP."

Pt. deux of "Character sadism

So, There I was. Reading "Police Beat." You can always tell when kids have started to get back from spring break. "Three students were referred to the office of the Dean when they were found by officers in a state of extreme intoxication. They had been staring at a wall for ten minutes and were covered in vomit" - This would be an example of a fairly mild day on the job for the beloved campus police. Usually, they have far more serious matters to deal with.http://wc.arizona.edu/papers/96/38/01_50.html
ect... Ad entertainment ad infinitum. Amen.
Sometimes though, the details are uncanny, arouse suspicion, and you relize that they're talking about, perhaps, your very own roomate. Moments like those are to be kept and cherished. Many people dear to my heart have achieved fame and recognition of the PB variety. So, what could have been interesting enough to pluck me out of Beatland?
Well, Soren had just said something to the effect of "Today we will be talking about Alfred Hitchcock". I was excited. I like Hitchcock to a certain extent, but what's more important, I'd actually seen some of his films. What happened over the next few lectures changed the way I think of creating stories. We spent a great deal of time (for lack of a better word) in a psychoanalysis of Hitchcock the Person. We really delved. For example: As a child, for fun, he would sit and map out Bus Tansit maps of London completely from memory. Needless to say, young Alfred didn't have many friends. Many years and fully developed neuroses later, he began to make films. Soren told us how he always made beautiful blonde women objects of suspicion and deception. He lived vicariously through his leading man characters (like Cary Grant) who were handsome and had no problem with either taking or leaving these women. But, he also relished beating these good looking characters to a pulp. (The scene in North by NorthWest where Grant in his nice suit throws him self repeatedly on the rocky, dusty, ground as he tries to escape a cropduster which, as it makes low fly-bys, shoots at him with a machine gun came to mind) Was this his way of getting back at who knows what he believed caused him to have the jowls of a manitee? They weren't imposing regal Churchill jowls either. They rather looked like curtains of fat. Well. How, you may wonder, did this information give me a new perspective on writing? Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not a misogynist. Nor am I particularly dissappointed with my looks (I've been told that I have "cute lips"). I realized though, that, as a writer, I have complete control over the landscape of my imagination. I can pardon or damn. I can raise from the dead. I can fly. And, I think that, at least for the next little while, I will take a cue from Hitchcock, and relish in my tyranny.

My idea for a great story (Aka Character Sadism)

Well, Actually it's not an idea per se, but rather an ethos about how I plan treat my characters (my poor little creations if you will) and world in which they will struggle to survive. I like to write in my downtime, and recently have been stymied by loathsome writer's block. Anyways, yes, I will create a world of suffering when I finally concieve of a setting that appeals to me enough to punish it. Why will they be made to struggle you may ask? Why would I cause my brainchildren pain? Am I full of bitterness and cruel impulses? Let me backtrack to a memorable college lecture that has really stuck in my mind and created, for whatever reason, a lasting impression on my literary brain. The truth of the matter is, that I was sitting and a doing a crossword in my Art History and Cinema class. The teacher, David Soren was a wonderful teacher and may I add, an exceedingly sensitive soul. But, he had what I now think of, a slightly unsettling fixation on a now much forgotten silver screen dancer whose name was Vera Ellen. The reason that he lectures on Vera Ellen, is that he grew up in the entertainment business and was fortunate enough to make the aquaintance of many talented stars. He, himself had been a vaudville dancer or something of the sort, and certainly knew a lot about the craft. Dancing that is. Sometimes, petite Professor Soren would show us a little jig, or pehaps an irish clog in a truly graceful fashion for a man who must be in his mid sixties. Not very tall and seemingly frail, he can be surprisingly passionate when lecturing, dancing, sing, telling jokes ect. He was seemingly the perfect elder gentelman professor type, with his soft leather shoes and his soothing voice and obvious need to influence the younger generation that they may be better. He also had a dog named "Angel". Angel followed him everywhere he went and I'll be damned if Angel didn't have the sweetest, most understanding expression on her fuzzy, whiskered, gently smiling, yellow lab face. I'm pretty sure that I'd let Angel babysit my kids if I had any. The lecture hall was very large and sat perhaps 400 people, and when he would do a delicate tap routine or say something sweet about someone who he admired like Vera Ellen, half of the kids in there would sigh and say silly things like "I wish he were my daddy." The female half anywas. But, I stray. Anyhow, one of the textbooks assigned for the course was a book called "Vera Ellen, the Magic, the Mystery." On the cover is a glossy picture of her smiling face, her expression both sad and vivacious. Soren REALLY likes Vera Ellen. One of his life's goals, was to make sure that "she was not forgotten." Well, I will most likely never forget her because every Tuesday and Thursday morning from December to May I heard about Vera Ellen at least once or twice during his passionate performance-filled hour and a half lectures. When he lectured on Post-Impressionism and it's influences on German Expressionist Cinema, somehow inexplicibly, Vera Ellen would pop up dancing poigniantly (and perfectly because "she worked harder than anyone") though her troubled life and though our imaginations. Not to mention the one lecture who's full ninety minutes was devoted to "Bunny". (I'm really not positive how she got that nickname.) Where was I? Ah. Lecture. So, Professor Soren was gently entrancing the students as he cooed paenisms to Vera. Meanwhile I was concentrating very hard on a crossword from the "Daily WildCat." (The Daily Wildcat is by far the best college newpaper in circulation by the way. Go ahead look online.) They have a section called "Police Beat" which has always amused me on sundry twisted levels. It may tie to my character sadism which I've unsucessfuly trying to explain. So I was reading "Police Beat" and doing my crossword, when my ears perked up....
Ok I'm at the library, and had no Idea that this was going to ramble so much. I'll finish up later...

Safe Ride adventures

So, I originally was going to use this for a volunteer application to the peace corps. It makes me seem cool and collected. What can I say? I like make myself sound like the opposite of the neurotic weirdo that I actually am. The Peace Corps wanted to hear about an experience in which I had to use "skills" in order to "adapt" to some situation and surroundings in which I was unexperienced. Too bad I didn't follow the directions very well. Instead I skimmed the paragraph and totally ignored the title of the section which was "Cross Cultural Experience"-- or something akin that sentiment. So, I couldn't use my little adventure to boost my chances at putting on the peace corps pants, but I wrote, what I like to think of, an entertaining, short first person account of what a typical first day on the job experience is for me. So here it is. My first blog. Taken from real life. Uncut. Poorly Edited. Brilliant. Meant for the government.

"I had an experience while at the University of Arizona that I will not soon forget. It was during the second semester of my sophomore year that I was employed by the University’s “Safe Ride” program. The Safe Ride program is a student run organization, which is, in turn, patronized by the greater student government. The goals of Safe Ride are to provide safe, accompanied passage for students and faculty who travel to and from campus during the evening hours.
The night of my first shift was pleasant. I talked to passengers and participated in whimsical banter over the walkie-talkies. Things were going reasonably well for a first shift of a new job. I remember that towards the end of the evening, I was dispatched to pick up two girls at the student union who were both traveling to the same apartment block. The MeadowView apartment block was located on 2nd street and Lee—not the best area of town. I picked the girls up and headed out towards my drop. As I passed through an intersection which was about a block from the Meadowview, I was startled by a car came hurtling out of the darkness and almost t-boned me. It had blatantly run a stop sign, and I expected it to speed off. Instead, the car sped up next to the van as if to pass, but instead edged close to the van until we were more or less in the same lane. The car was old and had tinted windows. At that point I began to worry a little.
I radioed that I was having trouble, but couldn’t get through. I pulled into the parking lot of the apartments. The lot only had one entrance, and was otherwise hedged in by the back fences of surrounding houses and on one side, by the apartments themselves. I turned the van around in the lot to face the entrance. The other car had finally passed us when I had pulled into the parking lot, but had turned around and was now perpendicular to the entrance and blocking it. The passenger of the car had rolled down his window and was glaring menacingly. My two passengers were surprisingly calm, but were anxious that that I get in contact with someone. At this point, I had no Idea what was going to happen. I figured that either this was a case of road rage, or that we were about to be robbed. The passenger of the other car began to open his car door. All I could think of to do was hold up my walkie-talkie so that he could see it as I finally made contact with the dispatcher. When the guy saw the walkie-talkie he closed his door, and the car slowly drove away. I was told to return to the campus in order to speak with the police about the particulars of the incident.
I feel as if I responded to this challenge with common sense. I had not been trained to handle a situation like the one just recounted. I was told simply that I was to use the radio in the case of emergency. As it turned out, I was told that it was wise to have stayed in the vehicle and that I didn’t try to do something drastic such as instigate a confrontation or try to lose the other car. If I had not had passengers in my car, or had I not been on the job, I may have handled the situation differently. But, I was conscientious of my situation and of my duties, and modified my actions accordingly."

And there you have it! It's all true.
I used a stripped down and less chatty version for a state department app.
They require names and phone numbers.