Things as they are happening

Hello everyone, I suppose I need to be a bit more diligent about writing on my blog. I hope I can make this more of a daily thing rather than a weekly thing. So, that said, let me bring you up to snuff on what is going on.

As far as the job hunt goes, it is pretty bleak. I've heard absolutely nothing from any of the jobs I've applied for, not that there are many out there to apply for. I did get a rejection letter from one company and that was actually nice. It confirmed for me that at least SOMEONE was reading the stuff I was sending out.

At home the kids are doing good. Balin enjoys having me home everyday and Grace likes me being here when she gets home from school. It is nice having Megan home because she offers some adult companionship, something that I really need at times.

I've been writing on my two separate projects, though I think I'm going to focus my efforts on my fiction simply because I'm really not quite up to the task of writing my non-fiction. It is really demanding of my brain and in all honestly difficult to commit too when the kids are around. I'm going to post the first chapter of that text at the end of this so you get an idea of what direction I'm heading with that book. I think you'll understand what I'm talking about when I say that it taxes my mind.

My fiction project is now off the ground. I wrote again today for about an hour, including a complete rewrite of the prologue as I slept on it and was very unsatisfied with the imagery. I've got the first real character and have begun to flesh him out a bit. He is a book store owner named Sean Gilbertson. He's a twenty-something that is doing the work his dad left for him when the elder Gilbertson passed away. I was going to have the book store owner be nobody, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted him to be one of the main characters. I think he will provide some tension for the story later on. I'm looking forward to fleshing the part out more.

Anyways, things are all good here. Wanted to touch base and let everyone know that I'm doing okay (though jobless).

Okay, here is the first chapter (or part) of my non-fiction. I would love to hear what you think.

What is Definition Theory?

Definition Theory is an interpretation of the way words and their meanings “work” as a whole. Merriam Webster Online defines the two words separately as:

Definition: the action or the power of describing, explaining, or making definite and clear
Theory: the analysis of a set of facts in their relation to one another

So, it would reason that Definition Theory as a conjunctive word set could be defined as:

The action or power of describing, explaining, or making definite through the analysis of facts in relation to one another.

It is the process of examining the way we use words and how they use us. It is a new frame of reference for examining the way people interact, and the way we manipulate the accepted standard to allow us to get what we want. It is a way of making people do what we want. Definition Theory, and the understanding of it, is the control of the power mechanism inherent in all things.

How’s that for an explanation?

Let me try to give a little better explanation.

Definition theory really doesn’t have a definition itself. It is like trying to explain how something tastes. You can’t find a real short way of explaining it; instead, you are required to go into a great many details to give an adequate idea of what it is. Hopefully through this text I can answer the question of what it is.

Everything we know, everything we will ever know is based on definition. Furthermore, a majority that fluctuates with time and location generally controls the very definition of things. Control of these variables grants power to individuals and groups, allowing the furtherance and growth of the ever-changing definitive truth. As individuals and as a society we grant control over definition and call those who make these decisions leaders. To have control to set definition is to have ultimate power. This power is demonstrated in the fact that all arguments are based in definition. He/she who has the power to set definition can and will win every argument.

I hope to look at a great deal of things as we progress through this text. There are so many things that make this whole concept applicable to things in our everyday life. I hope to show a great many examples of how definitive theory works, and how we are surrounded by it without even being aware of it. My ultimate goal is to provide the reader with the ability to utilize this theory to influence their own world, rather than let them be completely influenced by it. In the very least I hope to create a new awareness, a new appreciation and perhaps even a new fascination with the way our language and lives work.
Chapter 1: Throwing Away What We Know

I carry a dictionary with me just about everywhere I go. It is an extremely useful tool, one that gives me a great deal of power over other people. For society, a dictionary is a written representation of acceptable truth. Think about it, who would argue with the definition given in Webster’s? Very few, if any would. The power of that book is incredible.

One of the themes that I will continually incorporate into this text is the power of definition to control and win arguments. A dictionary is hard copy of what our language means. By using that book we can verify, clarify and support many of our argumentative stances, often without reciprocal argument.

The fact is, and certainly something we want to “throw away” from our collective thinking, is the acceptance of the dictionary as cold, hard truth. Dictionaries are forced perceptions perpetrated by men. They are a preconceived representation of another person’s truth, fed to the public as absolute. Does this mean that the words and meanings in a dictionary are wrong? No, not necessarily. It is the concept of the dictionary that is wrong.

The only reason a word means what it means is because someone else told us what the definition is. A dictionary is nothing more than a list of these words and their meanings. We are the ones with the power to accept these meanings. Unfortunately we usually accept what is written rather than go against the norm. Traditionally this is a function of society. We do so as a method of conformance (but we’ll go into that in depth much later on). Take for instance the common statement: “You can’t always believe what you read [hear].” This is generally applied to news applications. It is difficult for us as a society to sit and listen to the news on television, or read a newspaper and not take what is being read as absolute fact. Yet, there are so often times when retractions must be made because an over-zealot, or misinformed newsperson took liberties and wrote something that wasn’t entirely true. Could it be that the same could happen in a dictionary?

It is this belief that we need to “throw away” if we are to truly utilize our language and our ability to influence definition. As long as we have this proverbial crutch we will continue to use it. I’m not necessarily saying that we have to abandon the works of Webster; instead, I’m trying to allow you the ability to use a dictionary when it suits you, instead of relying on it as absolute truth.

Why are dictionaries flawed?

The essential flaws that are found within dictionaries can be boiled down into three main reasons. The first, something I’ve already touched on, is the fact that dictionaries are a product of human beings and therefore contain a varying degree of human flaw. To prove this point let’s examine the first and most popular American Dictionaries: Webster’s.

The Bias of Webster

Noah Webster is arguably the most esteemed and recognized lexicographer in both American and European histories. Upon the release of his American Dictionary of the English Language in 1828, “College presidents, senators, and representatives hailed him; Congress and state legislatures issued congratulatory proclamations and, together with the courts, adopted Webster’s dictionary as their official standard, thus making his the ‘federal language’…” Webster, in writing his dictionary and through continued publication of his widely popular Blue Backed Speller, took his place among America’s founding fathers, as the father of the American language.

One of the things that is forgotten about Noah Webster and his dictionary is that because he was the last man ever to write a dictionary on his own (without the help of a staff or assistants) he had a great deal of leeway in the inclusion of information in his text. With this in mind it is understandable that Webster took the position that, “the business of the lexicographer is to collect, arrange, and define, as far as possible, all the words that belong to a language, and leave the author to select from them…according to his own taste and judgment.” With the ability to select words for inclusion in his dictionary, it’s apparent that Webster, as an author, commanded a great deal of power in the formation of the American language.

This power is best demonstrated in some of the changes, which Webster took upon himself to make, during the writing of his book. One of his best-known reforms was the introduction of new spelling. While this seems minor, it was, in effect, changing the way we wrote the words of our language. The change of the spelling of the word “honour” to “honor” is relatively unobtrusive, but had Webster been able to push through all of his reforms, we would be spelling words such as “ache” as “ake” or “women” as “wimen”.

Not only did Webster have the power to implement the new spellings to words, he had the ability to introduce completely new words to the population while at the same time effectively removing other words from the American vocabulary. Webster was the first to introduce Americanized words such as soapy, lengthy, skunk, hickory and chowder in his dictionary while at the same time omitting words, found in Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language (the previous standard for dictionaries), such as fishify, jackalent, jeggumbob, conjabble and fourta.

The most pertinent thing that Webster controlled, above and beyond the introduction of new vocabularies and spellings, was his somewhat prejudiced methods of defining terms. Webster was not only driven by the need to create a national language through his dictionary, but to inspire his readers through spiritual and patriotic revival. Examples of definitions include:

Happy, a….The pleasurable sensation derived from the gratification of sensual appetites render a person temporarily happy; he can be esteemed really and permanently happy, who enjoys peace of mind in the favor of God.

Witness, v.t….To see or know by personal experience. I witnessed the ceremonies in New York, with the ratification of the constitution was celebrated in 1788.

An American Dictionary of the English Language was written not only as a supplement to the language we spoke, but as “a well-spring of truths that promised his countrymen an increase in ‘the wealth, learning, moral and religious elevation of character, and glory’ of their country – a self-contained educative institution designed to serve as a secular companion to the Bible.”

Those definitions that Webster saw as vulgar were precluded from his dictionary, paving way for the establishment of a new supporting language of American slang. In Webster’s eyes “one might not legitimately seek to fix the language but clearly one had the moral duty to cleanse it.” This moralistic ideal lead to the formulation of a set standard in dictionary writing, one that occurs in some dictionaries even today. For example, Merriam-Webster’s Third International edition in 1961 lacked any of the obscene “four letter words”.

Censorship in other forms has shaped our dictionaries and influenced our ability to learn. For example, in Texas, all schoolbooks are reviewed by the state, and because of inappropriate definitions, have removed books such as the American Heritage Dictionary from the bookshelves, thus influencing further editions and the appropriateness of the definitions contained within. Furthermore, an illustrative sentence in Webster’s Second New International (1934) suggesting that “electricity had replaced gas” was excised from the reprint after complaints from the gas industry. The fact is, historically definitions have changed or been removed from dictionaries based on personal bias of the writers, editors and even consumers.

Further deceptions can be demonstrated simply by examining the titles of the many dictionaries that appear on store shelves. Tapping into the unprotected name of Webster, dictionary sellers influence their buyers with titles such as: Random House Webster’s, Webster’s New World, Webster’s Comprehensive Dictionary 2000 ed., and Langensheidt’s Universal Webster. Countless other examples exist. The only true dictionary that is the direct descendant of Webster’s 1828 work is the Merriam-Webster dictionary, which bought the publishing rights to the great dictionary in 1841.

Dictionaries have never been divine creations as it has been compared, but are instead creations of men. Some of these men were brilliant scholars and professors, while other contributors were more delusive. One such example was Dr. William Minor, a clinically insane murderer and resident of the English mental hospital, Broadmoor. Confined to a cell, he contributed more than 10,000 definitions to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The fact is, dictionaries are very deceptive and thus should not be considered “absolute truth”. The thing to remember about them is that they were written by human beings, forcing us to realize that they are just as susceptible to personal opinion and bias as any other book. What Webster was doing in the beginning was not only documenting our language, but in effect, deciding for us how our language was to work. Since then it has been nothing more than trickle down education, as his book still commands the same authority as it did in 1828.

This does not necessarily mean that the modern day dictionary is steeped in the personal rhetoric of Noah Webster. For the most part the dictionaries of today are pretty much standardized and unbiased. Instead they simply state the definitions, yet there will always be some editing involved.

Dictionaries as a foundation are very selective. First off, there are simply too many words in the American language to include in a truly functional dictionary. In a society of smaller, faster and easier, we have trimmed down the very content of our dictionaries, creating varying complexities in our books. These are then assigned labels, providing a marketing tool, yet effectively watering down the books. Go to a bookstore and look at the dictionaries there. You will find collegiate dictionaries (lexicons aimed at college students or grads, with the intention of playing on the formal and advanced education of the consumer), or “pocket dictionaries that boast thousands of definitions yet fail to admit that the essential meanings of the words have been diluted down so much that the complete “acceptable” meaning of a word is not even conveyed. Other dictionaries market themselves as a “student dictionary” or “concise dictionary” all the while tapping into the unprotected name of Webster to help lend credence to their product.

What this has created is the second reason for why dictionaries are essentially flawed:

The Inconsistencies of Definition

In a general sense, we’ve always accepted the “truths” that the dictionary presents. The problem with this is that the dictionary as we know is severely limited. Without realizing it we set definitions more often than a dictionary does. We do so because the definition as printed in any dictionary is done so within a vacuum. Definition must not only be analyzed in its base form, as it appears in dictionaries, but must be allowed to fluctuate in an ecosystemic structure; to change to fit its environment.

The definition of a word, though it has the ability to stand-alone and be defined, is only practical in definition when taken in context. This falls in line with Stuart Hall’s beliefs as written in his article “The Rediscovery of ‘Ideology’: Return of the Repressed in Media Studies”. In this article he states, “Definition of reality is…the active work of selecting and presenting, of structuring and shaping: not merely the transmitting of an already existing meaning, but the more active labour of making things mean.” He continues on to say, “…Things and events in the real world do not contain or propose their own integral, single, and intrinsic meaning, which is then merely transferred through language. Meaning is a social production, a practice. The world has to be made to mean.”

So how are these two things different? This can best be demonstrated through example. The dictionary definition of the word “tall” is:

“1. High in stature. 2. Of considerable height. 3. Long from bottom to top.”

While this definition works perfectly well when it stands alone, in its practical contextual use, such as in the examination of a person’s height, you need to take other conditions in to mind. If I was to say a man who was six feet in height was a tall man it may be a truthful statement, but doesn’t this change, and in effect, change the definition of the word “tall” when I place the same six foot man alongside the members of a professional basketball team? More so, doesn’t the definition of “tall” change when I compare that same man to something else, such as a skyscraper? In this case, the description, “tall” no longer applies, and in fact, the word’s complete opposite, “short” is more accurate in describing the individual.

A dictionary, while containing a wealth of information is incapable of providing a complete definition based on the contextual surrounding of a practical world. This renders a dictionary useful only for giving a guideline for words, and even then, the definitions are skewed by the lexicographer that penned it.
Words and their meanings are more practical when defined by those who use them. Take for example the word “propaganda”. According to three separate dictionaries (yet dictionaries bearing the same ‘brand’ name) propaganda is defined as:

1. Systematic spreading of ideas
2. Any widespread promotion of particular ideas, doctrines, etc.
3. Any systematic, widespread dissemination or promotion of particular ideas, doctrines, practices, etc. to further one’s own cause or to damage an opposing one.

All three of these definitions essentially define the word differently. Yet another definition, one that was created not by a lexicographer, but by two authors is recognized as an authoritative definition:

Propaganda: The deliberate systematic attempt to shape perceptions, manipulate cognitions, and direct behavior to achieve a response that furthers the desired intent of the propagandist.

While this definition is similar to the third definition presented above, it does contain differing elements, and because it is further defined in part, something that isn’t done in any modern dictionary, it can provide a more comprehensive definition. For example, the authors continue to expand the meaning by describing the words “deliberate, systematic” as, “precise and methodical, carrying out something with organized regularity”.

What all this means is that a dictionary cannot always be accepted as the absolute truth. The words of a dictionary are stagnant and unchanging; the words of our lives are pliable and ever evolving according to the situations or usefulness of change. This leads to the third reason why dictionaries are inherently flawed:

Words are evolving

To say that our language is constantly changing would be an understatement. Especially in this era, when computers have become a dominant force, whole new vocabularies, dare I say cultures, have opened up. It has been nearly impossible for lexicographers (dictionary writers) to keep up. Even as recently as the mid 80’s, words such as megabyte, Internet, and email were absent from the most highly regarded collegiate dictionaries. Today those words are used almost daily and have certainly engrained themselves into world culture yet many of the dictionaries we turn to as the authority on definition have remained the same.

Language, words and their meanings are not immune to evolution; in fact, they change constantly, oftentimes without our cognizant recognition. Words are products of human thought, as we are the only beings who have so developed a written language. While many would recognize this as great feat of intellect, it is in essence, a failure, for we have failed to completely corral our language, instead it runs free, changing and evolving without hope of us ever catching it.

There will always be attempts to bring the meaning of all words to the dictionaries, but at the speed the English language changes; it is truly a daunting task. Since Webster’s first collegiate dictionary was released in the mid 1800’s there have been ten editions published by Merriam-Webster alone. Even the venerable Oxford’s English Dictionary, “which took nearly 70 years to complete in 1928…has five supplements and then, half a century later, a second edition that integrated the first and all the subsequent supplementary volumes into one new twenty-volume whole.” Since then, two additional supplements have been written, expanding the OED from its initial thirteen volumes in 1928 to twenty-two volumes in 2000.

By falling back on a dictionary, society has made a concession to accept what is written, as fact, without even realizing that this fact is ever changing. New words come out everyday (it has been calculated that around 800 neologisms are added to the working vocabulary of the language every year.)

To complicate things further, the need to separate the vulgar, the socially unacceptable and the language of the minorities (something we’ll discuss in subsequent chapters) from dictionaries has effectively created a whole new language. This language is used everyday yet remains practically ignored by the acceptable echelon of lexicographical acceptance. Additionally, as the electronic age spreads, and we all become a bit more computer savvy, symbols and abbreviations have become commonplace in our communicative lives. We display emotions in our written language by using symbols such as :) or abbreviations such as lol to represent actions, yet rarely think about these as defined symbols, acceptable to society as the norm. They also remain absent from our dictionaries, leaving a potential void of understanding in our “perfectly defined world”.

Do these three shortcomings make dictionaries completely useless? No, far from it. In fact, understanding these flaws may make dictionaries even more useful to us. The important thing to remember is that while dictionaries may be perceived as the authority on definition, they are not. It is the human being who sets, establishes and enforces the definitions that commands this authority. A dictionary can be a great support tool, and can win an argument simply because most people do just what I’ve explained you shouldn’t do: accept definition as described in a dictionary as absolute truth. By refusing to accept dictionaries and their definitions as absolute you have been empowered. How does that feel?

New Book Has Officially Began

Well, after reading the response that my brother Brian gave me after my final posting of Klinker, I have officially started my new book. This one should be a lot of fun to write and I am doing so with the intention of writing a true novel I can be proud of. While I am only a few hundred words into it, I have a strong plot figured out and am really looking forward to the first chapters. I am going to take my time with this book, but intend on setting a goal of approximately 1000 words a day. Additionally, while I would like to print the entirety of the text here, I am only going to note my progress as this is a book I hope to eventually get legitimately published and sending to the web could cause issues. I will be happy to note my progress however and post parts of it on occasion so you get an idea of what is happening.

Okay, about the story. The story will be set in modern times, though I am not really sure of the exact location. It will be the Midwest (simply because I am most familiar with the area). It may even be Fort Wayne (and as I type this my home city becomes legitimate as a setting because of some of the things in this town). The main character, named Scott Garvey, is a normal everyday guy who happens to love old books. One day he finds a dusty old relic at a used books store, and while it is water damaged and torn, he buys it simply because of nostalgic appeal. The book however, sets off a course of events which curses Scott. As he attempts to learn what he can he suffers the progressive misfortunes dictated within the book and source of the 1900 century child's nursery rhyme:

Solomon Grundy,
born on Monday
Christened on Tuesday
Married on Wednesday
Took ill on Thursday
Grew worse on Friday
Died on Saturday
Buried on Sunday
That was the end of Solomon Grundy

I've always been fascinated by the poem and as I was sitting, thinking about what I could write about, this poem came to me and I thought it would be a good story. I want it to me steeped in riddles and mystery. I've got an active imagination and wanted something less "real life" than Wyatt, with a bit more intrigue and excitement. I also wanted a solid plot, something people could sink their teeth in to. I hope this does it.

I would love to hear what you think about this particular plot line and story direction. Words of encouragement would also be appreciated.

The Last of Klinker

Okay, here it is, finally. The last of Wyatt Klinker. I need to post this so I'm just going to go ahead and do it. Hope you enjoy...

CHAPTER 14: ROOMMATE

The last two days of the trip to Washington D.C. and the subsequent trip back were the best days of Wyatt’s life. He had awoke relatively late (nine o’clock) the next day and while he knew he hadn’t slept more than five or six hours, felt more alive than he had all week. He immediately got up, showered, and rushed downstairs, intent on being down there when Alex finally came down.
He was surprised to find her sitting in the breakfast room with Dr. Swanson, at the same table he had found her at the other day. The only difference was that she was almost giddy this morning.
“Now who’s the lazy one,” she chided him, her smile radiating across her face.
“Well, I had a difficult time sleeping,” he answered, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down.
Dr. Swanson didn’t say anything; he just wore a cherubic smile as he sipped a glass of orange juice.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything,” she asked.
“I’m getting tired of this continental breakfast,” he replied, “and I didn’t have dinner last night so I’m really hungry. Have you eaten?”
She shook her head, “I was waiting for you.”
“Well, I owe you a meal after skipping out last night, would you like to got somewhere and get a real breakfast?”
“I would love to. You want to come with us Dr. Swanson?” she asked, looking at the old man.
“Oh no, I been sitting here for an hour and half and I’ve already eaten. I want to hit the town again so you two go ahead.” He grabbed up his copy of the Washington Post, and as he walked away he patted Wyatt on the shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before turning and walking out of the crowded breakfast room.
“Let’s get going so someone else can have our table,” Wyatt said as he got up and headed for the door.

Every waking hour over the following two days had been spent together. They ended the night kissing one another in the stairwell by the pool, forcing themselves to go separate ways when it became too late to stay awake.
Each morning they raced one another to get down to the breakfast room, and when it came it came to their last day in Washington, they actually ran into each other in the elevator on the way downstairs.
It was bittersweet leaving DC. They had found one another in the city and while they were returning to a routine they both knew well, they were doing so under completely different rules. Wyatt was excited about the prospect.
The trip back was long, and the rigors of a week exploring a city caught up with them. Instead of sharing a pillow, Alex, lifted the armrest separating the two of them and used Wyatt’s chest as a pillow. He loved when she cuddled up next to him. I let him smell her hair and soak in her heat.
They got back into Chicago late Sunday night and while they were glad to be home, the prospect of getting up the next morning and going to class did not appeal to any of the class.
Wyatt walked with Alex back to her dorm, pulling her suitcase behind him and he hauled his bag over his right shoulder. He held her hand and talked about how much he enjoyed the trip as they made there way back to her building. She had to remind him about how horrible the first few days had been, but he insisted on forgetting that part. It drew a little shove from her, but he defended himself by wrapping him in her arms and holding her tightly.
“Well, I’m beat,” he told her, letting her go.
“Yeah, I am too,” she answered, looking into his eyes.
“Can you bring my suitcase up to my room for me?” she asked, not taking an eye off of him.
“Sure, but it’s pretty late, I don’t want to wake up your roommate,” he replied, returning her stare.
Wyatt was surprised when he heard her chuckle.
“What” he asked.
“My roommate won’t hear you, just make sure you’re quiet.” She said, an odd smile crossing her face.
They made their way upstairs, getting off the elevator at her floor. Like the previous week, it was deathly quiet. They moved down the hall to her room as she fished for her keys in her purse. Wyatt waited to the right of the door while she unlocked it.
“You better stay out here in the hall while I check to see if she is sleeping,” she whispered as she slid the key into the lock.
Wyatt stood there, his back to the door as she slipped inside. He could hear her moving around and hoped she wouldn’t wake her roommate. On the other hand, he realized how tired he was and as much as he loved being around her, he really wanted to get back to his room so he could get unpacked and in bed.
He heard the door unlatch, though she didn’t open it. He waited a second before he heard her speak plainly, loud enough for him to hear through the crack in the door, “You can come in Wyatt, its okay.”
As the pushed through the door he realized that there was only a small desk lamp on illuminating the room. It was enough however for him to make out Alex, standing right in the middle.
He heart jumped when he saw her. She had stripped off all of her clothes and was standing in the light of the doorway, her right arm hiding her breasts while her other hand covered her private areas.
Wyatt was speechless.
“First, my dear, you need to close the door,” her sultry voice rang through his ears. “Secondly, I guess I never told you that I don’t have a roommate. She graduated last semester. Third, I’ve got something I’ve wanted to do to you all week.”
With that she reached for him and pulled him to her.

April 4th - Dear Starlog:

It was difficult going back to classes after getting back from Washington. Truth is, both Alex and I skipped Dr. Swanson’s history class on Monday morning. We were tired and frankly, we were having way too much fun in her room.
I’ve never been one to get all mooshy and sentimental, but the fact that Alex was my first really means a lot to me. When I was with her the other night I felt the same excitement I felt when Lindsey had come to my room, but it was different. Sure, it was exciting, and stimulating, but it was something else. I was with Alex, and she is, and always will be, everything I ever wanted in a woman.
Alex was a bit worried that I would be offended by the fact that she had already had sex before. I suppose it was pretty naïve of me to think otherwise. I, of course had to blurt out that I was clueless as to what she wanted having never been with a woman before. I assured her that it didn’t really matter to me, though afterward she did explain how she had been real serious about a boy when she was in high school. She had been enamored with him and had slept with him after the prom. I told her I completely understood, considering I was completely enamored with her.
I stayed with her in her room until we both got so hungry we had to get up. Dave was surprised to see me coming in at around noon carrying my bag from the DC trip. He immediately started asking questions. I didn’t want to answer them, but it didn’t take him long to figure out where I had been.
Let me tell you something about Dave. When he gets a hold of a piece of information, he will hound you about it until you come right out and tell him to quit. Frankly, I was floating on air when I got back and he could have asked me a thousand questions had I not had to get a shower and get down to the cafeteria so I could meet Alex.
In the end he was pretty happy for me. I know I’m happy for me. He keeps chiding me when I see her and because he has absolutely no couth, tries to get details about her.
The guy in me wants to tell him how sexy she is, how hot she makes me feel when we are together, but I know better. That is something her and I will share. If there is one thing I can do, its keep things to my self. All I told him is that she is incredibly beautiful and that I am lucky to have her.
This semester has given me a whole new perspective on life. For so long life was something that was lived, day by day, hour by grinding hour. I do know that in short order, in fact, in just a couple of short months I will be going back to my aunt and uncle house to live. I am curious to see how my new relationship with Alex will change the way I live that part of my life. I have a feeling it may be difficult.

CHAPTER 15: VIENNA

Wyatt knocked on Alex’s door, knowing that she would scold him for not just coming in. She had told him countless times that he was welcome to just come in whenever he wanted to. Regardless, every time he visited he first knocked.
Typically she would yell out to come in. Today was different though, today he just heard a muffled response to his knock.
He opened the door and found her sitting at the clean desk, the one she had not piled high with papers and books, the one that remained practical. When Wyatt had learned that he inhabited both desk he teased her about having dual personalities: an ultra organized one and a crazy slob like one who would be right at home with Wyatt’s roommate, Dave.
She had tried to explain that she didn’t like to have a messy work area, but couldn’t explain away the fact that she was too lazy to go through and take care of old papers and schoolwork that had accumulated since her old roommate had moved out. Wyatt had just laughed.
There was nothing funny about seeing Alex right now though. Her face was somber and Wyatt knew right away that something was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice serious.
“Wyatt, we need to talk,” was her response and Wyatt began to really worry.
“Will you sit down next to me?” she asked, patting the bed beside her.
He obliged her and sat down, taking her hand. He loved the feel of her hand in his, even though they were typically cold. They were thin and felt fragile and made him feel strong and protective.
“What’s the matter, Alex?” he repeated.
“Wyatt, I’m so sorry,” she couldn’t raise her head to look at him.
“Alex, tell me what’s going on,” Wyatt began to panic, thinking the worst.
The first thing that shot through his mind was that she was pregnant. Here it was, a mere two weeks before she graduated and she was hitting him with news like this. He didn’t think it was possible. They had been careful. Even during their first time she had been prepared. What could it be?
“Wyatt, please don’t be mad at me,” she pleaded. “I didn’t think this was going to happen.”
He was becoming impatient and panicky, he squeezed her hand tighter.
“Wyatt, I never told you this but the reason I told you all those months ago that I didn’t want anything more than a friendship was because I was afraid of going away after graduation and losing you,” she admitted, fighting through tears.
“At the beginning of the semester I signed up for an internship and after three different interviews I figured I had a pretty good chance of getting it. At the same time, I really started to fall for you. That’s when I told you I wasn’t interested.”
He prodded her to go on.
“I found out that someone else got the internship. That was right before the trip to Washington. At first I was disappointed, but when you and I opened up to each other I realized what a blessing it was that I didn’t get it.”
“So, what’s the problem then,” he asked, confused.
“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this,” she began crying outright. “I got a call this morning and it turns out that the girl who had gotten the internship can’t accept it. They offered it to me.”
Wyatt didn’t know what to say. At first he was happy that she had been selected. Then he realized that she wasn’t crying out of joy, but out of grief.
“The internship is in Vienna, Austria,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Oh,” was all he could say. He tried to consider this news and found that it just wouldn’t sink in.
“Wyatt, I don’t want to leave you,” she sobbed, “but I can’t turn down the internship either. I would be working as a page for the American Consulate.”
“Well how long would it be?” he asked, trying to formulate a plan.
“Two years,” she cried, again squeezing his hand.
He removed his hand from hers and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to him.
“Wyatt, I didn’t want this to happen,” she cried into his shoulder, “I really didn’t. When I got the first letter saying I hadn’t been selected I wasn’t even disappointed. I knew that I could have you.”
“You don’t have to take the job,” he answered, hopeful that she would consider that option.
“But Wyatt, I really don’t think an opportunity like this would ever come up again,” she argued.
He let go of her, “it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind?” he left the question hanging in the air.
“I don’t know what to do,” she answered, breaking into tears again. “I need to think about this.”
“But you’re considering taking it?” he continued to press.
This was a disaster in the making, he could feel it. He knew that she loved him, her actions over the last month and a half had been a clear indication of that, but he also knew how much her career meant to her. In their many nights together she had shared her ambitions. He realized that he had inadvertently encouraged her.
Just a week ago she talked about how she couldn’t wait to do something with her degree. He had told her that he would follow her anywhere; that she was so talented that it would be a crime to keep her from doing something she loved. Now, here he was, trying to keep her from just that.
He stood up, and turned to face her.
“Alexandra,” he said using her full name, something he rarely did. She looked up at him through teary eyes.
“Do you love me?” he asked, his voice cracking under the strain of what he was about to do.
“I know what you are going to say Wyatt, but its not fair for you to pressure me like this,” her voice rose with her level of frustration.
“Alex, just answer the question, please.”
“You know I love you like more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” she replied, shaking her head.
“Then I want you to take this job,” he couldn’t believe he was telling her this.
“Wyatt, I don’t know,” she stuttered.
“If you love me as much as I know I love you, then take the job. If you are being truthful to me then I believe that in two years you will come back to me. Alex, I don’t have a choice here, and neither do you.”
“You want me to take it Wyatt,” she seemed stunned.
“Alex, I don’t have a choice, you’ve got to take it now. If I was to deny you this opportunity you would resent me, and I know I can’t live with that. I know I can’t live without you for two years, but at least there is a chance that way.”
Tears were clearly rolling down his cheeks. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised he could maintain his balance. He hated this, he despised himself, but he couldn’t understand why.
This was like every other thing in his life. Just when he thought he had found a comfort zone he could appreciate, some kind of something would hit him square in the face and destroy everything. He wanted to run, to just disappear, and become one of the lost. To Wyatt, life was nothing more than a series of tragedies stacked one after another. This one was the worst.
Alex sat on the bed crying as Wyatt turned, opened the door, and walked out.

Wyatt walked for hours, lost among the streets of Chicago. Amongst the skyscrapers and honking cars he felt completely alone, like he was adrift at sea. He played the last six weeks over and over in his head. Sometimes he laughed at the events, other times he cried unabashedly. People glanced at him with strange looks but he notice. His mind was completely locked on the woman who had taken him out of his comfort zone, an area where only Wyatt lived. She had transformed him and now the prospect of returning to that life, the one of the isolation, completely revolted him. His stomach churned and at one time he retched in an alley, unable to control himself.
He returned back to campus well after midnight.
Dave was still up when he arrived back at his room.
“Dude, you okay?” his roommate asked. “Alex has called half a dozen times. Is everything alright? I couldn’t get her to stop crying the last time.”
“Dave, just let me sleep, okay man?” was the only response Wyatt would give him. He slipped off his shoes, threw his coat on a chair and climbed into bed. He didn’t bother to change clothes, just pulled the blanket up and rolled over to face the wall.

The next two weeks were difficult for both of them and while they spent nearly every moment they could together, many times it was strained and they would sit holding each other, both of them crying and wishing things were different. Wyatt was particularly distraught, knowing that he wouldn’t even have the solace of the university to provide him comfort. He would be heading back to his uncle’s shortly after graduation.
Alex was excited about graduation, and began to stress after accepting the page position with the consulate, but Wyatt did all he could to try to relieve it. He assured her that he would do whatever he could in order to come visit her. He promised he would write as often as he could and keep her informed as to how things were going back in Chicago.
While they still shared a passion for one another’s physical contact, they found that they appreciated just sitting together, or taking long walks in the warm spring evenings. Most of all they simply talked about the future. She constantly badgered him to not give up on school, to come back and get his degree.
“You better not quit school,” she teased. “I’m making a new rule. I only date seniors, so if you aren’t one by the time I get back, all bets are off.”
He chuckled, but they both knew it wasn’t funny. They accepted what was going to happen and the melancholy and turned to a numbness they both lived with.

Graduation day came too soon and Wyatt sat by himself at the top of the bleachers at the field house, crying when her name was called. He had dreaded this day and now it was here. Alex had told Wyatt that he could sit with her parents, but he had passed. Initially she was a bit offended, but when he explained he needed to be alone she understood.
He did have lunch with Alex and her family, accepting an invitation to share pizza at Louie’s per Alex’s suggestion. Being the first time he had met her parents, he was surprised how much he liked them. He was so used to all the parental figures in his family talking down to him that it meant a lot when Mr. Phillips asked him about what he was studying and what he wanted to do when he graduated. They all four carried on a conversation for a good two hours before the Phillips proclaimed that they needed to get back on the road for Rockford.
The ride back to the campus was subdued, with every mile that the train ticked off agonizing for Wyatt. He sat with Alex beside him, holding her hand and watching the scenery outside whip by. Alex’s parents sat watching the two of them and saw the pain in their daughter’s eyes, a feeling shared by the young man clinging to her hand.
Their goodbye was short and teary, said in the stairwell of Alex’s dorm while her parents waited in the van in the parking lot. She kissed Wyatt deeply and told him to never stop thinking about her, that on the other side of the ocean she would be thinking about him.
He couldn’t help but think that this would be the last time he ever saw her. He ran his hands through her red brown hair, then brought his finger down her oversized nose to rest on her lips.
“I will love you forever Alex,” he proclaimed to her.
“I will always love you Wyatt,” she reciprocated.
“Come back to me, please,” he begged her. “Don’t ever forget about me.”
“I won’t,” she promised as she kissed him for the last time.
“You’ve got to get going. Travel safe, and write as soon as you get there,” he instructed her.
“”I will, I promise.”
And with that she gathered up her remaining things and pushed through the fire door, leaving Wyatt alone in the gloomy stairwell.

June 1st – Dear Starlog

Yesterday I moved back home if that is what you want to call it. I am more miserable now than I have ever been. I miss Alex, though I did send her an email today. Not sure when she will get it. I anticipate that she’ll be busy for a few weeks as she gets settled. Funny, it really does feel like she is on the opposite side of the planet from me (actually I think she’s still in Rockford for another week or two before she heads to Europe).
It is ironic that out of the three people in my life that have actually loved me, I feel as if I’ve lost all of them in Europe.
It’s been a bit cold here. I had a blow up with Aunt Carla yesterday when I found out that she fired Chaya. I guess it was actually a mutual separation. Aunt Carla said that Chaya was lazy and continually made demands. She said that no servant of hers was going to tell her how things were going to be.
I called Chaya earlier and found out that she had gotten a job at a retirement home. Not only was she going to be doing housekeeping, but they were going to send her to school to be a nurse. They were more than happy to work around her and her schedule. Chaya I guess had just asked for the same from Aunt Carla and Aunt Carla had refused. While I hate to see her go, Chaya is better off and I think it’s funny that my aunt won’t have her to push around anymore.
Uncle Rich isn’t here very often, but that’s not anything new. I figured that he wouldn’t be changing his way anytime soon.
Lindsey isn’t around much. Uncle Rich finally bought her a car (a brand new Grand Prix) and she is gone most of the time. I suppose that is best. When she is around she still doesn’t talk to me. Not a big loss.

CHAPTER 16: GONE

Wyatt wasted away the first week of the summer sitting out by the pool, reading, or simply doing nothing. Aunt Carla had attempted to bribe him into doing chores around the house, be he refused, forcing her into doing things herself. She was having a difficult time replacing Chaya simply because she wouldn’t pay the full market value for a housekeeper willing to do all the tasks she wanted done.
Today he was out by the pool, napping in the shade when Lindsey came up and flopped down in the chair beside him. She was wearing a red bikini top and a pair of gray gym shorts. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of oversized sun glasses.
“Hey Wyatt,” she said, her voice low and reserved.
“Hi Lindsey,” Wyatt responded, his words dripping with condescension. He wasn’t really interested in talking to her in the slightest. She picked up on it right away.
“I’m sorry, okay?” she said plainly. “I was a real bitch to you last time you were home.”
“I agree,” he replied, not giving an inch.
“I shouldn’t have acted that way and I feel bad about what you saw in my room that night,” she continued, ignoring his comment.
“Lindsey, what you and your boyfriend do doesn’t really matter to me. I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit. I’d just as well you ignore me because I plan on ignoring you,” he said, maintaining a calm and steady voice. He wanted her to know that he was serious, that all he wanted was to survive the next few months and get away again.
“I suppose I deserve that,” she spoke, her voice a near whisper. “I’ve not been very fair to you, and I am sorry. Please forgive me Wyatt.” With that, she got up and walked away. She looked back once, but Wyatt just picked up his book and feigned reading. He wanted her to know that he was not joking this time.

Two days later Lindsey walked into Wyatt’s room while he was watching TV and sat down on the floor beside his bed.
“You still mad at me Wyatt?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Lindsey, I’m not really mad at you, I’m just indifferent to you. I would rather you just leave me alone, okay?” he replied, never taking his eyes off the television.
“Well, I’m not happy with you ignoring me,” she returned. “I know I screwed up and I feel bad, you don’t have to take it out on me all the time.”
“Lindsey, I’m not taking it out on you. I just want to be left alone, okay?”
“Why, what’s the matter,” she asked.
“Nothing, I just want to get through the summer and get back to school, okay?”
“What’s so bad about this place,” she kept prodding, “I don’t think it’s so bad. It would be better if there was someone I could hang out with. Hint, hint,” she nudged his leg.
“Please Lindsey, just leave me alone. Okay?”
“Alright,” she said as she hopped up, “but I’m just going to keep bugging you.” With that she turned and walked out of the room leaving Wyatt shaking his head.

The next day Wyatt was in the pool, floating on an air mattress when a huge splash rocked him and nearly toppled him into the water.
“What the hell”” he thought as Lindsey emerged from under the water beside him, laughing and spitting water.
“Did I surprise ya?” she howled, laughing at her little display.
“You almost knocked me off the raft. What the hell are you trying to do?” he yelled at her.
“Oh, ease up Wyatt, its not like I’m trying to drown you,” she answered back, splashing him across the chest.
Wyatt allowed himself to relax, resting his head back on the raft.
Lindsey swam over to him, she grabbed hold of the raft and started dragging it around the pool.
“Lindsey, stop it,” he complained.
“Make me stop,” she teased, not letting go. “You can ignore me this time but you’re going to get really wet.”
Wyatt didn’t want to play this game, but he knew that she wouldn’t let up. He allowed her to drag him around the pool a bit longer. When she took a handful of water and dripped it in his face he launched himself at her.
She was surprised at how fast he moved and tried to get away, but he was a much stronger swimmer and caught hold of her foot as she turned to swim away. He pulled her back to him and grabbing her by the pony tail, pulled her under water. He held her there for about ten seconds before letting her come up for breath. She was laughing when he did, so he immediately pushed her back under. After holding her under for a brief amount of time he pulled her up, spitting and sputtering.
This time it was Wyatt that laughed, “Thirsty Lindsey? You drank half the pool.”
She immediately splashed him and dove at him, trying to pull him under. Wyatt let her get her arms wrapped around him before he voluntarily went under, pulling her with him. He felt her let go of his neck and kicked to the surface, likely sputtering some more.
Wyatt broke the surface of the water laughing. She had kicked her way to the edge and was holding on looking at him, smiling. “You jerk!” she shouted.
“Jerk? You were the one who was harassing me!” he laughed back, wiping the water from his eyes.
He watched her as she pulled herself out of the pool. She was wearing the same red bikini minus the gray shorts she had worn to cover the bottoms. There was no denying that she had a nice body, but when Wyatt looked at her, he saw Alex and his heart jumped. He knew that regardless of what happened throughout the rest of his life, all women would be judge versus her. While he was depressed thinking about her, this made him feel good, as if the memory of her alone would be enough to keep him going and the fact that others immediately brought image of her to mind.
Lindsey grabbed a towel and yelled over to Wyatt, “Are you getting out too?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” he answered, swimming to the side.
“You want something to drink?” she asked, making her way to the door to the house.
“Sure, I’ll take something,” he replied, reaching the side of the pool.
When she came back out carrying a tray with two glasses of ice, a large bottle of soda and a bottle of whiskey Wyatt almost came unglued.
It was if Lindsey could read his mind, “I thought you didn’t care about me?”
Wyatt didn’t know what to say. Every time he had played parent to Lindsey it had backfired. He forced himself to calm down and resolved not to be judgmental. Instead, he would play along, see what she did.
“I don’t care about you,” he told her, “no give me something to drink.”
He watched as she poured a healthy portion of scotch into each glass and topped it off with soda. She slid his glass over to him and took one for herself, lifting it as if toasting.
“Drink up, Wyatt,” she said, drinking deeply from her glass.
He did the same and felt the burn of the alcohol as it went down. The drink was incredibly strong and Wyatt wasn’t a huge fan of hard liquor. He exhaled deeply as he brought the glass down, drawing a chuckle from her.
“What’s the matter Wy, too strong for you? I think we have some Kool-Aid in there if that would suit you better,” she teased.
“Oh, and you are a big drinker?” he guffawed. “I bet you can’t even finish that drink, Miss Light Weight.”
“I can finish it before you can finish yours,” she challenged, lifting her glass.
“Whatever,” he waved her off.
“Come on big shot, pick up your glass and let’s do this,” she ordered, staring him down.
“Okay, but loser has to do a shot of whiskey,” he replied, confident he would beat her.
“Just a shot? I bet you five shots that I can beat you!”
“What are you going to do when your Dad comes home and finds you falling down drunk?” he asked, smiling.
“He’ll come home wondering why you’re lying passed out beside the pool. So five shots then?”
He didn’t think for more than a second before he nodded and picked up his glass.
On the count of three they both started drinking. Again, Wyatt felt the alcohol burn his throat as he swallowed the potent liquid. He finished his drink and slammed it down just a second after Lindsey had done the same with his.
She threw her arms up into the air and shouted, “I win! I win!”
Wyatt turned red with shame. Here he was playing drinking games with a seventeen year old and he had been beaten.
“You want me to get the shot glasses or do you want me to pour right into the cup,” she asked, laughing as she did so.
The look on Wyatt’s face prompted her to turn serious, “Oh no, you’re not backing out of this. A bet is a bet,” she said.
“I’m not backing out,” he grumbled. “Just pour it into this glass, no sense dirtying up any more.”
She unstoppered the bottle and began pouring. Wyatt was pretty sure that there was more than just five shots in his cup, but he wasn’t about to argue. Lindsey poured some into her glass as well, “I can’t let you drink alone.”
The two sat in shade sipping on the whiskey. It wasn’t Wyatt’s favorite way to drink the stuff, matter of fact, he didn’t care for the taste in the least. He just wanted to be done with the stuff.
“So,” Lindsey began after sitting quietly for a few minutes, “what is college like? Do you like it?”
“I did, up until the end of this year,” he answered instinctively.
“Why’s that?” she prodded.
Wyatt wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about it, but the alcohol was having an effect on him that resulted him in talking a bit more than he normally would given the circumstances.
“I had to break up with my girlfriend. She graduated and is moving away,” he revealed.
“Oh. Where is she moving to?” came the follow-up question.
Wyatt chuckled, “Vienna, Austria.”
“Wow, that makes for a pretty serious long distance relationship,” she returned.
“Tell me about it. I really miss her,” he took a long pull off his glass. The whiskey was going down smoother now and Wyatt found himself mellowing out significantly.
“What was her name?”
“Alex,” he paused, “her full name is Alexandra.”
She continued to ask questions as he poured out the answers. He revealed how quickly their relationship had evolved, how Alex had denied his because of the prospect of the job in Austria, only to finally give herself wholly to him when it looked as if she was going to be staying in the States.
In turn Lindsey told Wyatt about Greg, and how she had been a little bitch and had tried to make Wyatt jealous. She had regretted that night ever since and felt terrible about how she had acted.
They talked for an hour, sipping whiskey and refilling their glasses when they were empty.
“I’m sorry about you losing your girlfriend,” Lindsey slurred after sitting for ten minutes without saying much of anything.
“Thanks Lindsey. I was wrong about you. You’re a pretty decent girl.”
Wyatt was pretty oblivious to everything going on around him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip into semi-consciousness.
He felt like he was floating, his mind clouded and confused. It was a pleasant feeling. He was in a state of euphoria, an area of numbness. After so many days of missing Alex, he welcomed the feeling. He was surprised when he seemingly saw her standing in front of him, straddling the lounge chair he was sitting in. She smiled down at him.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Wyatt,” she said, her voice missing that sultry deepness he loved so much.
His eyes were half open and glazed as he watched her reach behind her back and undo the bikini top she was wearing. She pulled it off revealing her chest to him and Wyatt smiled. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered and he felt himself begin to respond.
Wyatt followed her fingers as she untied the sides of her bikini bottoms, allowing them to fall to the floor of the patio. She sat down on his lap and scooted forward until she was right on top of him. Her eyes were different, but Wyatt didn’t care. He buried his head between her breasts as she grabbed his hair and pulled him to her. He felt like he was on fire as she ground herself into his lap. He missed her so bad and wanted to be with her more than anything. He felt like it was a miracle that she had shown up here today while he was sitting on the patio talking with Lindsey.
His mind snapped to reality when he realized what he was doing. The alcoholic cloud that shrouded his mind dissipated immediately and he knew exactly what was happening. At the same time he heard the scream.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER, YOU PERVERTED SONOFABITCH!” his aunt’s voice was shrill and biting. He pushed Lindsey off of him and she fell to the pavement, laughing.
“It’s not what you think Aunt Carla,” Wyatt stuttered, trying to defend himself.
Her voice didn’t lose any of its intensity, “I know exactly what this is!” She glanced as the near empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. “You got my daughter drunk so you could take advantage of her. You’re a goddamn pervert! Lindsey, get in the house!”
Wyatt was stunned; he didn’t know what to do. He felt like a cornered animal. He tried to stutter out a defense but knew there was no way she was going to believe him.
“I should call the police. You’re her cousin you sick bastard,” Carla shouted. “I want you out of my house. Get out you bastard, you make me sick.”
“It was her Aunt Carla,” Wyatt tried to explain, but she wasn’t listening.
“Get your stuff and get out or I’m going to call the police and have you arrested,” her voice was barely above a whisper as she repeated her orders.
There wasn’t much Wyatt could do. He got up and moved towards the house. He was in shock and couldn’t comprehend the situation. Carla clarified it.
“Just get your shit and leave,” she commanded. “I want you gone in ten minutes.”

June 19th - Dear Starlog:

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go, who to call. I tried to reach Alex but she is gone already. Her parents apologized but seemed a bit distant. Before I hung up her mom told me that maybe it wasn’t meant to be between her and I and that I needed to let Alex live her life. I seriously doubt she has any idea what kind of hell I’m going through.
I can’t believe Aunt Carla kicked me out. Actually, I do believe it considering what she caught me doing with her daughter. I just wish she understood that I wasn’t the instigator in all this, that Lindsey is even guiltier than I am. I knew I should have kept my distance from her. I bet she did all of this on purpose. I doubt she thought she was going to get caught, but I have no doubt that she had never gotten past that night I threw her out of my room.
I don’t know what to do. Last night a buddy of mine from school let me crash in his dorm room. He’s taking summer term and didn’t mind me sleeping on the floor. I can’t stay forever though. I don’t have much money and I left my cell phone because Uncle Rich was paying for it. I don’t have anything but my backpack full of clothes and this journal. I certainly don’t have a family I can rely on.
I might try heading for New Jersey to see my uncle that lives there. I know he would want me even less than Uncle Rich and Aunt Carla, but I just don’t know what to do.

CHAPTER 17: EARL

The streets of Chicago were busy on a Tuesday morning but no more so than they had been for the last few days as Wyatt wasted away his time walking around the city. He had moved out of Shawn’s room yesterday after four days of living there. It was just too hard for Wyatt to rely on him. He had no money for food so Wyatt had been forced to beg food off of his friend and he couldn’t bring himself to do that for very long.
The sun was hot and Wyatt wanted to get into the shade so as to conserve his energy. If last night had been any indication of what he could expect tonight, then he was sure he would need it. He had tried to find a place to sleep at a church but they had turned him away. They had pointed him to a shelter but Wyatt just didn’t have the humility in him to seek it out.
He had ended up sleeping beneath an oak tree in Columbus Park using his backpack for a pillow. He hadn’t slept though. Even in seclusion of the dark and wooded area he was afraid of the encroaching city and the seedy elements of the city. He was certain that a lot of those stories of gangs and thugs had been fiction, but he still worried and failed to sleep. As the sun came up in the morning he met the day with the dread of uncertainty.
His wandering took him past Louie’s and the smell of fresh baked pizza. Wyatt was hungry and while he had a few dollars left, he wanted to conserve them for when he really needed them.
He didn’t think about where he was going, just walked, eventually finding himself at the subway station. He didn’t know why he end up here; maybe he was just used to this route having taken it more than once from Louie’s before taking the train home, both to Aunt Carla’s and college.
As he stood outside the station the bleak thought that there was no place for him to go hit him. For the first time in his life he rally had no destination. Even when he was bored or tired of living at home with his parents he knew what direction he was heading, where he was going. When he was going to college for the first year, clueless as to what he wanted to do, he still had a destination to work towards. Now he was completely and utterly lost. He leaned against the building and slid to the sidewalk, fighting to keep from breaking down.
“Son, that’s my spot,” came a voice from above him.
“What?” Wyatt asked, looking up.
“You’re sitting in my spot, boy. You need to git up,” the voice repeated.
Some about the man looked strangely familiar and Wyatt puzzled to place him. The man started to lose patient quickly however and nudged Wyatt with his boot.
Wyatt struggled to his feet, the weight of the backpack throwing him off balance. As he did so he remembered where he had seen the man before. He was the same grey bearded man that had asked him and Lindsey for change nearly a year ago to the day. Typically he wouldn’t have remembered a detail like that, but he had run into the man the same day he had heard about his parents’ death. The entirety of that day had been etched in Wyatt’s mind, even the face of the poor panhandler that had asked for a buck to get a sandwich.
Wyatt couldn’t help but stare at the man. He hadn’t changed much; in fact his clothes were almost identical to the ones he had worn that day a year ago. Wyatt did notice that he was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with a big “Spam canned meat” logo on it, which was a marked difference.
“What you looking at, son?” the man asked, uncomfortable with Wyatt’s inspection.
“I remember you. I remember you from last year when I came by here. You asked me and my cousin for money so you could buy a sandwich,” Wyatt revealed.
“Well, did you give me any money?” the man asked.
“I wanted to, but,” and Wyatt’s felt ashamed now for admitting it, “but my cousin told me not to give money to bums.”
“I hear that a lot. Part of the business I suppose. I am impressed that you remembered me though,” the man admitted. “Say, you wouldn’t have a buck or two you could give me now so I could get a sandwich or something?”
“I wish I could, sir, but truth is I got kicked out of my house and I don’t have any place to live now. I have a few dollars but I have no idea how long it is going to be before I find a place to live, so I figured I’d better save them.”
“That’s just not right, you not having a place to live. What happened to you that got you kicked out?” the man asked, curious.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable talking about it to a complete stranger, but thanks for asking. I guess I’ll go find somewhere else to rest. Sorry bout taking your spot,” Wyatt apologized before turning to leave.
“Wait, son, you kin sit wit me. There’s plenty of room. Come on, sit down. Ain’t many people coming this way this time of day anyhow. Gotta wait til they git out of work before I can start makin some money. So sit down, we can talk for a bit.”
The man waved him back, ushered Wyatt to sit beside him.
Wyatt flopped down, pulling his backpack on to his lap as he did so. The man held out his old weathered hand for Wyatt to shake and offered up his name to the younger man, “Earl. My name’s Earl Collinger. You?”
“My name is Wyatt Klinker, pleasure to meet you Earl,” Wyatt replied, taking the man’s proffered hand and shaking it.
Earl turned his head away and just stared off across the street, seemingly ignorant to the young man he just welcomed to sit beside him. Wyatt didn’t really care. He was seeing Chicago from a whole new perspective. Not often did everyday people sit down on the sidewalk of a busy metropolitan street and simply ignore the throngs of millions passing them by. Wyatt felt like this was a microcosm of his entire life. Here he was, nineteen years old and he had absolutely nothing and no one to rely on, to call on for help. He felt miserable.
That sat quietly for about ten minutes before Earl spoke.
“So, takin a look at life from the bottom, eh? Ain’t much to see down here but people lookin down their noses at you. Not a good place to be, nope. Not a good place at all. So, how’d you git here boy, and why is it that old Earl has become the only friend you got in the world?”
Wyatt went on to explain how he had ended up here, including how he had come to Chicago from Boston, lost his parents and been forced to live with Lindsey and her parents. He told him about being a student at IU-Chicago and losing his one true love to the Austrian’s. He also told him about how he had let Lindsey manipulate him and eventually get him kicked out of his house.
Earl was an impartial audience. He listened but didn’t say anything, instead choosing to just nod or grunt occasionally as Wyatt talked. When Wyatt had said all he felt he could or would want to say Earl just stared off across the street again, not speaking, just staring.
Just like before he sat there until he decided to talk.
“That’s rough son, but ya know, you still got your health. You still got your youth, and that’s a whole lot more than a lot of people like you and me’s got. World’s not a good place sometimes. But ya know what? Even us bottom dwellers got something to live for once in awhile.”
Wyatt followed Earl’s example and just listened. When the old man was done talking he just stared across the street and allowed his mind to digest the information he had just heard. He was about to talk when Earl spoke, “You said you gots some money on ya?”
“Yeah, I’ve got about twenty dollars,” Wyatt answered before adding, “but I don’t want to spend it in case I need it later.”
“Listen son, I’ve lived on the streets for about twenty years now, and the one thing I’ve learned is that you got to live today cuz you never know ‘bout tomorrow. Seems to me that a week ago you were livin the life and lookie whats happening now to ya. That twenty is going to be gone one day. You might as well make it gone on your own terms.”
Wyatt thought about that for a minute. That made sense. He could stretch the twenty dollars over a week, eating only when he absolutely had to, but eventually it too would be gone. He realized that the money was a symbol of everything that had happened in his life. He knew he had loved his parents, that given their differences they were still caring and nurturing and he had lost them before he was ready. He had never told them how he felt, or been able to enjoy some of the real milestones that life had to offer.
Alex had left him just as suddenly and while he had loved every minute he had spent with her, he felt like there was so much more to be experienced. He knew that there was a bleak chance he would see her again, and even if that happened there was no guarantee that she would want him the way he wanted her. He had lost her way too early, certainly not on his terms.
Then there was his home with his aunt and uncle. Granted, they were a pain to live with, but they were there when he needed them. They gave him shelter, food and direction. He had never told them thank you before being thrown out. Again, he lived not on his terms, but on those of others.
“You hungry Earl?” Wyatt asked, jumping to his feet.
“I’m always hungry, son. What you have in mind?” he replied as he struggled to get up.
Wyatt grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to his feet, “You like pizza?”

The two of them ate pizza and drank sodas at Louie’s, laughing and talking like they had been friends forever. Wyatt never asked about Earl’s history and Earl never offered any information, other than that he had not always been homeless and that he had actually had a wife, kids, a home and a job before things all went downhill.
When they were done (having finished the whole pizza, a first for Wyatt) and the waiter brought them the bill, Wyatt fished in to his pocket where he found the crumpled up twenty. The bill had come to nineteen thirty-five and Wyatt felt bad that he couldn’t offer a bigger tip but promised himself that he would leave and extra large one the next time he came, just to make up for this visit.
The thought of coming back here made Wyatt feel better. Prior to meeting Earl he had thought that the world was coming to an end. He was sure that it would be hard for awhile, but he knew he wasn’t as destitute as he had initially felt.
They walked out the front door together and Wyatt yawned.
“Well, I think I may head over to the park and see about getting some sleep,” he told Earl as they walked.
“Bullshit, son, yer coming with me,” the old bum replied.
Granted they didn’t know each other longer than a few hours, but Wyatt knew when Earl was insistent it wasn’t worth fighting him.
The two of them walked through the streets, making their way off of the main thoroughfares and onto the quieter side streets. They walked about three blocks before they ran into the elevated tracks of the “L”. Earl continued to lead, Wyatt following silently, knowing better than to ask where they were going.
When they got to a viaduct, Earl announced, “Well, this is home.”
Earl led him up the steep embankment and under the bridge. A hodgepodge of cardboard, sheet metal and plywood cordoned off various sections of the viaduct. Wyatt saw a variety of people milling around as well. Earl showed him to an area that looked as sturdy and any of the others and pulled aside a cardboard flap. Inside Wyatt could see a pile of old blankets, clothes and cardboard stacked to create a makeshift bed.
“You can sleep here tonight, but tomorrow you’ll be on yer own,” Earl explained.
“But I can’t take your bed,” Wyatt argued.
“Oh, dontcha be worrying ‘bout me. There’s another bed just over there. Been empty ‘bout a week. Right now it’s the guest bedroom, so you go ahead and take my place tonight. Least I can do after you fed me and all.”
Wyatt just smiled, thinking how fortunate he had been to meet Earl, “Thank you Earl, I really appreciate this.”
“That’s what friends are for, son. Now you get some sleep.”

July 14th – Dear Starlog

It’s been a month since I was tossed out of Uncle Rich’s house and I couldn’t be happier. I’m not living on the street anymore so that is a good thing and I’m all set for school to start up again in about a month and a half, so I’ve got that to look forward to.
The night after I slept in Earl’s place under the viaduct he got hold of a cell phone (he told me not to ask where is friend, Fingers, had managed to acquire it from) and forced me to make some calls. My first one was to Chaya, who was happy to hear from me. She loved her new job, though it was difficult going to school and working. When she found out that the Morgan’s had thrown me out she invited me to stay with her on the condition that I would help watch the kids when she had to work. So far it has been a great arrangement. I share a room with Eduardo, which is cool. He kicks my ass at video games whenever he gets a chance.
I feel comfortable there. Chaya is a great person and I’ve learned a lot about her. She isn’t at all shy and reserved at home. She says that I really helped her come out of her shell. I don’t think I did anything but I’m glad to see she is happier.
When I met Earl I didn’t think I had a friend in the world. Turns out I have plenty of friends after all. I called my buddy Steve and talked to his mom, Charlene. She agreed to be the executor of my family’s estate. That means that the finances that were going to my uncle to help pay for my college will not be filtered through Charlene. She told me that my folks had actually left me plenty of money, enough for not only tuition but for living expenses as well. In fact, I could probably live on the money that has been allotted but Charlene and I both agree that the money would probably be best spent by giving it to Chaya to help pay for my rent. The rest will go to my tuition.
The call to my uncle’s house wasn’t a very pleasant one. I really didn’t want to make it, but because of the whole tuition thing, it had to be done. My aunt answered the phone and gave me a few choice words. I told her she needed to ask her daughter about the night she snuck into my room. That shut her up.
Aunt Carla told my uncle that the money my parents left me should stay with them after what I had tried doing with their daughter. My uncle is such a wimp that he didn’t want to fight with her about it. It wasn’t until Charlene had the attorney call that they finally decided to signoff on the custodial responsibilities of the estate and give them to Steve’s mom. She really rocks. I love her.
Dave is coming back to school in the fall and we plan of rooming together again. He told me that he thinks he wants to change his major to philosophy, so I may have to put up with him for another year, if I was willing. I told him I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather room with. He called me a liar and I had to tell him I was serious. Then he said “Alex”. I guess I am a liar.
Speaking of Alex, I got an email from her yesterday. She really loves Austria. She said her job is horrible and she is just a glorified gopher. She did say that after time she figures they will give her more responsibility. She went into a lot of detail about the country and the people and all that but the most important thing she said was that she still missed me.

EPILOGUE:

Wyatt pushed against the crowds, working his way through O’Hare, trying to find the correct terminal. He was sure he was late. The traffic around the airport was always horrible and finding a parking spot was impossible.
It had been a busy, emotion filled week. School had just started and Wyatt was just starting his senior year. He and Dave had gotten an apartment off campus and they had struggled to get all moved in before classed started. It was going to be a busy year with a monster senior thesis due for his major by year’s end. Dr. Swanson was working closely with Wyatt and really wanted him to succeed. On top of that Wyatt had landed a part time job working for the Museum of Science and Industry.
Chaya was upset, as she normally was when Wyatt left to go back to school, but this was worse. She knew that with Wyatt having a real job and a real apartment that he wasn’t likely to move back in with her. The kids had cried when he left, even after he promised to stop by and visit every week. Wyatt was sad too. She had been so good to him and the kids were like the brother and sisters he had never had. He was going to miss them.
The Saturday before they were supposed to move in Wyatt had went downtown to find Earl and tell him about their new place. When he couldn’t find him by the train station, his normal haunt, he wandered over to the viaduct where the old man had shown such hospitality two years earlier. Wyatt was shocked to find out from one of the derelicts there that Earl had been beat and kicked to death by a group of kids who thought it would be funny to pick on an old bum. According to some of the people who saw the whole thing, Earl never even fought back, he just sat there staring at the kids as they beat him. He died later that night in the waiting area of the emergency room as the hospital staff argued over whether or not they could treat someone who was homeless.
Wyatt had gotten in touch with the city morgue and arranged for a proper casket and burial for his friend. His trust had been released to him when he turned twenty-one the previous March and he could think of nothing better to do with some of the money than to hour his old friend who had lifted him from the depths when he needed it most.
On top of all the things happening over the span of the last couple weeks he had gotten a text message with a simple note:

Tuesday, September 6 1:45pm Gate 133. Flight 663.

When he saw the area code of the number he knew exactly what it meant. He called Dr. Swanson and told him he would be missing his one o’clock class that day and assured the professor that it was a legitimate reason. When he explained the old man just asked him why he hadn’t said so in the first place.
Now Wyatt found him at Gate 133, looking and seeing that the plane had evidently not arrived yet. He sat down in one of the chairs, noticing that they were the same egg shell like seats he had sat in almost three and a half year earlier to wait for his uncle to pick him up.
Sitting there, he thought about the family that had taken him back then. He had found out from Chaya that she heard that Uncle Rich had left Aunt Carla after she found out that he was having an affair with a girl from his office. They weren’t even divorced before he proposed to the much younger girl. Aunt Carla was indignant about the whole thing of course and tried to get all she could from him, including custody of Lindsey. Of course Lindsey had just turned eighteen and resented the fact that her mother was still treating her like a little girl. Chaya had told Wyatt a month ago that Lindsey was now pregnant and living with a guy who drives truck for a living.
Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder how his life would have turned out had he stayed in Boston, had his parents not taken that trip to Europe when they did. He imagined that he would still be at home, that he would still be one that sat and watched others rather than a person who threw themselves at life and lived like it was supposed to be lived.
Wyatt thought about how life was filled with bittersweet moments; that for every gain there was a loss and vice versa. He was twenty-one years old and he had walked through his own personal Hell and at the same time he had strolled the paths of Heaven, arm in arm with an angel.
Now, as he sat in the airport, he realized that everything was in the balance. Wyatt wasn’t a big believer in karma, certainly not now after all he had experienced in life. He believed that life was what you made out of it. Yet after all the triumph and tragedies he had endured, he wondered which way the pendulum would sway now, at a time he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
The excitement started to build when he saw the monitor in the waiting area display that flight 663 had arrived. He stood and made his wait towards the gate, trying to see around both the people in front of, and the ones coming towards him.
He thought back to a week ago when he had gotten the text message from Mrs. Phillips in Rockford, Illinois. Alex’s internship was over and she was coming home.
Wyatt wasn’t sure if she would be happy that her parents had asked him to pick her up and drive her back to Rockford or not. This would be a complete surprise to her. Somehow, somewhere deep in the back of Wyatt’s mind, he felt as if the string of bad luck that had plague him had ended and that everything was moving in the right directions.
Just coming through the doorway Wyatt caught sight of a woman with reddish brown hair. He wasn’t sure if it was her or not until he caught sight of her face. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him, the person behind her nearly running her over.
Wyatt didn’t know what to think when he saw her face. It was the epitome of surprise and for a moment Wyatt thought maybe she was angry. Then she shook her head, smiled through tears that immediately started running down her face and ran to his outstretched arms.

Book Review: The Road

First off, sorry, haven't did much posting. Hopefully I'll get back at it.

Now, I just got the book "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy for Christmas. It isn't a terribly long book and has sizable print so I flew through it. It only took me two days to go cover to cover and part of me wishes I would have taken it slower. It was an exceptional story and is well deserving of the Pulitzer Prize it won.

The book is set in not so distant future, but to say it is futuristic would be wrong. It isn't science fiction, instead, it is a look at what could happen to America (or the world for that matter) if we were set upon by an apocalypse. The story is dark and lacks any sense of hope, even though at the back of your mind you're hoping that some sort of utopia exists for the two protagonists.

The world is a mess. Everything has been burned and looted. An apocalypse happened some ten years earlier and survivors are few and far between. A man and his boy (they have no names in the book) walk the road trying to survive. They push a grocery cart, mile after mile with all their worldly possessions hoping to find someplace where they can live, where they can survive. They search through abandon houses to find food and sleep in hiding, hoping their small camp fire isn't seen by others who would set upon to take their things or worse yet, their lives.

It is a sad story, yet it is beautiful in the bond shared between father and son. They are what keep the other alive and it is quite evident throughout the entire story.

The writing is fairly complex. The author has an incredible vocabulary and the first page of the book is almost too complex for me to read. It is a good thing I pushed through deeper into the book, because after the first page you failed to notice the complexity of the writing and really began to understand the story. McCarthy is the kind of writer I wish I could be.

The other thing about the book that you should receive warning is that like the raw, desolate setting of the story, so is the punctuation and grammar of the story. He uses no real punctuation, other than periods. There are few commas and he never uses a quotation mark to determine who or when someone is talking. This however works very well and as I mentioned previously, seemingly adds to the story itself.

The book is incredible. I will warn you that there are moments where you lose all hope in humanity, that you feel horrible for what the people are doing and wonder if had been better if all of humanity had been completely wiped out. Yeah, it is that bad.

Anyway, you deserve to pick up this book and read it. It is wonderful and beautiful and depressing and enlightening all at the same time. When I finished the first thing I did was turned to the first page and started reading it again. Yeah, that good.