The Mind of a Struggling Writer

It had been a rough day already. It had all began when my cellphone had died so my alarm didn’t go off.   I rushed to work half an hour late, to be greeted by an unpleased look from my boss. I explained the situation, but I was still informed I would be wrote up for being late. He gave me another reason as to why I could not wait to get out of that hellhole. Resigning myself to my present fate, I took my seat at my cubicle. Another day of sitting on my but staring at a computer screen for eight hours. I logged into the computer, and plugged in my headphones into my phone, which I then began to charge. In a few moments I could at least have my music to make the day go faster. Then began the monotonous wait as computer part orders appeared on my screen. My job at the present moment was to order parts for a major retail computer company. The customer’s computer came in, the computer technical would order a part, the order came to me, I checked it, and then copy-and-pasted it...

Every Thursday     It was another typical Thursday for John Burke as he made his way through the traffic of Louisville's International Airport (or SDF for short).   People piled out of taxis or Uber vehicles, unloading various pieces of luggage. Families were headed on vacations, while other people were headed on business trips. Some were hugging with smiles and excitement; others that tears as they parted ways. John wondered how many of these travelers were saying bye for the last time. Once, he had seen a couple throwing verbal parting shots at each other as the husband stormed into the airport; from what John gathered to start a new life with some other woman. It was never a dull moment.     Travelers hurried their way through the corridors to check in at the airlines. John saw one flustered traveler arguing with Alice at the Northwestern check-in line. It looked like John's work day was starting a little earlier than usual. As he appr...

In January 2016, my uncle Kenny died. After several years of fighting Parkinson’s Disease, he lost that battle. It was a chilly winter day when I had the honor of placing this man to rest. From the years that he had raised me up as a child, it was with great humility that I set him down. As Vince Gill sang “Go Rest high on that mountain…”, I openly wept for that man. My aunt Donna kept a brave and happy face for the family, because we knew his hurt was over and he was with the Lord. When I walked past him, Kenny looked as healthy as when I last saw him. The funeral home had done a great job on him. When it was our time, he was so very light. Part of that was surely the weight he had lost, but also the five other men that helped me carry his burden. He was laid to rest at the family plot on the hill, overlooking the Green River. If there was a slice of heaven on earth, that was it. My biggest regret was that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know my uncle Ken knew I loved him...

Over the last few days I have tried to digest the news that has rocked the world we live in. On the day I was teaching 11 year old children how to find the truth in a news document; on the day I enjoyed a juicy medium rare steak with my fiance on our second anniversary; these events seemed trivial. The food and wine had the after taste of ash in my mouth. Why? The answer is simple. A great act of terror was done, and the world mourned. On the day of November 13, 2015 several hundred people in Paris were the victims of a terrorist attack. As the beasts of ISIS claimed responsibility, the world had flashbacks of September 11, 2001. Justice must, and assuredly must be done to those who are guilty. And applause to the Parisian government to attacking ISIS installations today and in the future. Now, lets get to the rub of the argument. Many people want to paint all Muslims the same; anti-American, wanting to impose Sharia law, woman beaters, anti-Semitic, anti-Christian. While yes, this...

I haven't posted here in a while. I have been super busy with work and school. Luckily I am now finished with class, and Spring Break began today. With my new teaching job, I have realized it is not going to leave me much time to write during the school year. I was planning on this, though I do wish I had more time to focus on my writing, but it is what it is. I'm making a good living and have been the happiest I have been in years with my new career. So I have decided that during breaks from school will need to be my productive times. Which means two weeks in Winter, a week in the Spring, and then roughly 2.5 months in the Summer will be my key periods for writing. It doesn't seem like a lot of time, but if I stick to the plan I believe I will have a much more productive year. I can defiantly get a couple of smaller projects done this week. My goal is to finish a short story collection I started last year as well as make headway into a novel. I'm also going to try ...

I like many people have been following the case of Micheal Brown, the young man that was shot by Officer Darren Wilson. During the late hours of November 24, 2014 the Missouri grand jury decided not to indite Officer Wilson on several counts including murder down to manslaughter. The evidence that the jury investigated found no cause to put Wilson on trial, as it would appear he acted in self defense. Though my emotions ran high, I at first abstained from commenting on social media about the events for many reasons. However, as the media now is trying to make comparisons to the tragic shooting of a 12-year old boy in Cleveland has made me feel like I need to say my peace; and where else but my blog. lts start with Ferguson. Here is what we know, either from surveillance photos, statements, and forensic evidence (given I am taking some license to create a cohesive narrative).  Mr. Brown and a friend walked into a convenience store where he stole a pack of Swisher Sweet cigars (yes...

New tattoo regulations prompts KY Guardsman to Sue