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 Weekend Cometh (and more Wyatt)

It has been a horribly long week. They sprung some nasty news on us at work and with my audit next week I'm under an incredible amount of stress. It seems that our company is in jeopardy of folding by the end of the month if something can't happen. On top of that they are planning on laying off 15% of the salaried workforce on a permanent basis starting a week from today. Hopefully I'm not one of the cuts. If I am I'm not sure what I'm going to do. The job prospects in Fort Wayne are severely limited.

This weekend we are taking Gracie to Libby Lou's for a makeover. Libby Lou's is the consummate little princess shop. You can overdose on pink just walking in the store. For like $30 you can take a girl in there, have her hair done up (including adding extensions if you so choose) makeup, nails and all that stuff. It's like a spa for 6-9 year olds. She's been dying to go and now they are going out of business so we decided to get her in. Everything is 30% off, so that is a good thing.

We need to do some Christmas shopping as well. Hopefully we can pin down a sitter for Saturday so we can get some stuff purchased. Time is running out.

Okay, back to Wyatt. I haven't done anything more with the editing but hope to read over some stuff this weekend. I would like to have the whole process completed by next week. Let's hope I can accomplish that. Over Christmas break I may think about starting a new book. This one will be written at my pace and heavy thought out. I really need to start brainstorming plots. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know. Anyway, here is the next section of Wyatt. Hope you like it.

CHAPTER 12: DECISION

The bus was packed and loaded at five o’clock in the morning on Sunday. Those who were making the trip waited until the last possible moment to show up and were all working against one another to shove their luggage into the storage area under the motor coach. The driver sat indifferently at the wheel, looking over an atlas as if this was the first time he had considered where they were heading.
Wyatt had been the first one to arrive and waited patiently outside the bus, looking for Alex. A few minutes later he caught sight of her dragging a pull along suitcase across the sidewalk. She had the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up but Wyatt could tell it was her from her walk. She didn’t look up as he ran out to meet her.
“Good morning!” she shouted as her approached her.
“Not particularly. There is nothing good about five o’clock unless it involves sleep,” she grumbled in reply.
He pulled the backpack off her shoulder and took the handle of her suitcase so he could drag it the last thirty yards to the bus.
“We’re in the second set of seats on the right hand side. You can have the window if you want it,” he offered.
“Make sure you bring my backpack,” she returned, seemingly indifferent to his choice of seats.
He went on to load her luggage while trudged up the steps, mumbling under her breath. When he was finished he climbed on the bus, only to find Alex already in her seat, her head resting against the window, her eyes closed.
Wyatt tucked her backpack in the overhead and sat down beside her, “Are you ready for this?”
“I’m not ready for anything but to go back to bed,” she mumbled.
“Well, we’ll be leaving any minute and they’ll turn the lights out. You should be able to get some rest,” he offered with little consolation.
Dr. Swanson was the last person to get on the bus. He took a few minutes to explain the itinerary for the trip out and take attendance. When everyone had been accounted for, he too settled into his seat and with a hiss of brakes being released, the bus lurched forward into the morning.
They cut through the city with practically no traffic on their way to the interstate. By the time they hit it Alex was complaining about how uncomfortable she was.
“I brought my pillow if you want to use it,” Wyatt offered, hoping to appease her.
“Yes,” was her only reply.
He stood up and retrieved it from the overhead compartment before sitting down and handing it to her. She took it silently. Wyatt showed her how to recline her seat and after three or four attempts to get comfortable failed she finally ended up placing the pillow on Wyatt’s shoulder and leaned against him.
Wyatt smiled as he closed his eyes, leaned his head on the pillow they now shared too, and went to sleep as well.

At about eight o’clock Wyatt woke up and found Alex still sleeping. The sky was pale and gray, covered with a low layer of clouds that clung like heavy curtains. He could see Alex clearly now. Her hands were pulled up inside her navy sweatshirt. She wore pink Hello Kitty flannel pajama bottoms and heavy wool socks. She had kicked off her shoes earlier to make herself more comfortable and they lay on the floor, kicked beneath the seat in front of them.
Her face was plain and void of the makeup she had worn two days earlier when they had went out to dinner. Wyatt realized what a rare opportunity this was; to see this woman, this close without her knowing. He cherished his chance to stare at her, to look at her feature singularly, taking in each part of her face. He looked at her long eyelashes and marveled at the symmetrical curve each one shared. He looked at her nose, slightly oversized but wonderful in its unique appearance. He stared at the fine white hairs, normally invisible that grew above her upper lip.
Wyatt was amazed at how beautiful she had become over the months that he had known her. He flaws had completely disappeared and he realized that while others would perhaps question his judgment, he felt he was looking upon the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
It was if she knew he was staring at her because she started coming awake. Wyatt sat back and took his eyes off her, disappointed that his moment to examine her was gone, but glad she was waking so he could talk with her.
She stretched her arms above her head, hampered by the top of the overhead, and yawned, “What time is it”
“Just a few minutes past eight,” he answered. “Did you sleep well?”
“It’s still too early,” she replied, “but yeah. Thanks for your pillow.”
“No problem. You didn’t drool on it did you?” he joked.
“You could only hope,” she replied, running her hands through and scratching her head as she pushed her hood back.
“You know where we’re at?” she asked him, looking at the miles of flat, non-descript landscape.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we are getting pretty close to Ohio. Should be leaving Indiana really soon.”
That chatted for a few minutes, Alex finally agreeing to share a package of chocolate Pop-Tarts after listening to Wyatt’s arguments proclaiming their merits. They laughed as they munched on their breakfast, Wyatt teasing Alex over her complete indifference to the trip (mostly based on the ungodly decision to leave at five AM) and her chiding him over his puppy dog like excitement about going “bye-bye”.
Wyatt’s promise to himself to be productive and get a bunch of reading done was lost for most of the trip. He found that he would rather watch the movie playing on the bus’ video monitors or sit and talk with Alex as the miles rolled past. It was one of those days where the trip was excessively long, but neither of them truly minded it. Maybe it was because they were excited about getting to Washington, maybe it was the company. Regardless, it was an enjoyable trip.
At about three o’clock Alex yawned, “Hey Wyatt, let me borrow your pillow again. I want to take a nap.”
He pulled his pillow from beside him and handed it to her, “Haven’t you slept enough today?”
“I can never get enough sleep,” she answered, fluffy the pillow and positioning it back on Wyatt’s shoulder as she had earlier.
“Well, I’m going to finish watching this movie and then I’ve got to get some reading done,” he reasserted, not completely convincing himself.
She mumbled something and snuggled her head into the pillow, her body shoulder to shoulder with his. With her eyes still closed she said, “My hands are cold.”
Rather than tucking them into her sweatshirt, which was typical, and without opening her eyes, she found Wyatt’s hand and wrapped hers around it. A smile crept across her face as she soaked up the warmth stored in his body.
Wyatt was a bit taken back by this action. He was awash with mixed feelings and he didn’t know what to think. Was Alex coming on to him? Was she just cold? He couldn’t tell, but her actions during this trip so far had been a bit more direct than she had ever displayed. He didn’t know what to think, but knew that he wasn’t going to complain.
Within minutes he could hear here breathing deep and knew that she was asleep. It amazed him how quickly she had managed to pass into the unconscious. He wished he was able to do that. Unfortunately as of late it was taking him a long time to get to sleep. The last two nights he had tossed and turned, trying to decide what he wanted to do.
There was one thing that Wyatt did not like, and that was indecision. He was much better off when he knew the answer to a question. Alex was one he just could not answer. Over the last few days this had been amplified by the time they had spent together. The trip to the grocery and the dinner at Louie’s on Friday night had felt so right, so comfortable, yet it didn’t feel like the other meals or time they had shared together. It was as if there had been progress, a movement towards a place more serious and committed. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining things or not and therein rested his confusion.
In the past Wyatt had used his mind to reason things through and here on a bus, in the middle of Pennsylvania he decided to do it again.
“Control,” he told himself, “that is what this comes down to. If I want things to work out then I need to take control. I can’t allow anyone to dictate what I do, how I feel, where I take my life.”
He turned his head and stole a peripheral glance at the woman who slept beside him. She was plain yet beautiful. He knew that she didn’t look at herself as a stunning, model like beauty. She wasn’t like that at all. She was an earthy type woman, plain yet comely.
“I can’t think of anything but you when you are near me. I can’t focus, I just have to listen, watch, concentrate on you,” he considered for a moment. “Maybe I need to quit you cold turkey. This certainly isn’t working for me. Besides, you’ll be graduating soon anyway. Maybe I should just let you go on your own way?”
He sat thinking for awhile, slowly becoming depressed at the thought of her disappearing from his life, “Look at me!” he screamed in him mind. “She is sitting right beside me and I’m allowing the thought of being without her to take me over.”
In that moment, he made up his mind. He needed to distance himself from her; otherwise he would be trapped, at the mercy of this woman. He couldn’t give her that control. As long as his emotions were running wild he was at her mercy. Inadvertently she had taken control of him and he had to make it stop. Besides, she wouldn’t want that anyway.
Strangely, he felt good about his decision. He wasn’t terribly happy, but there was a certain amount of contentedness that overcame him. Wyatt was convinced that he was made to be a loner, a nomad, a drifter. He appreciated his friendships, but he could also accept loneliness and conspired to create for himself a hermitage where he could escape the control of complexities of others. He would let Alex go, finish out school and live his life the way he wanted it, free of restraints and controls placed upon him by others.
He allowed his melancholy to overtake him. It was an awful feeling, but he wrapped himself in it. It was his life. He always knew it. Why he had allowed an individual to deny him his true calling he didn’t know. It had been a mistake and he would remedy it. Wyatt slept.

The rest of the bus trip was pretty uneventful. When Wyatt awoke he feigned disappointment in himself and forced himself to read his schoolwork. When Alex prodded him to talk with her he told her coldly, “I really need to get this stuff read. Could you just leave me alone for awhile? Thanks.”
They arrived at their hotel in DC at about six thirty. The plan for the night was to just hang out in the rooms and order pizzas. A hospitality room was set up and most of the class gathered there, drank so sodas and hung out. Wyatt skipped going down, instead, he sat in his room, reading, eating snacks from his bag and the machines at the end of the hall. He was supposed to have told Alex his room number after he had gotten it (she had gotten her first and went up to get settled in). He hadn’t. Instead he just stayed in the room, trying his best to concentrate on the words in front of him. His roommate, a junior named Kyle Toomer had told him that Alex was looking for Wyatt, but Kyle hadn’t said anything, not sure if Wyatt had wanted her knowing his room number.
“I don’t know, man,” Kyle had told him earlier when they were discussing Alex, “that girl is okay, but she’s a bit weird. I figured that if you wanted to tell her the room number you’d let her know yourself.”
“That’s cool,” Wyatt replied, wondering what was so weird about Alex. “I’ll call her later. You can tell her what number we’re in if you want. I’m just tired and want to get some sleep tonight, okay?”
“No problem dude. I’m going down to Chuck and Mike’s room. Mike brought a bottle of JD and invited me down to hit it with them. You get some sleep.” With that, he left, leaving Wyatt in the quiet of the hotel room.
Wyatt was still awake at ten thirty when the phone rang. He noticed on the display that it was ringing from Alex’s room and just ignored. She was persistent and let it ring at least ten times before finally hanging up. Each ring had temped Wyatt, but he had resisted, intent on not giving in to his decision.
He felt good about himself, having defended himself against her for a night. He knew he wouldn’t be able to completely ignore her, but he was going to minimize his contact with her whenever he possibly could. He turned out the lights and thought about how he would confront her when it inevitably happened tomorrow.
“Control,” he thought. “Just stay in control.”

Wyatt woke up at six the next morning and slipped out of bed and into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. He knew they started serving breakfast downstairs early and intended on getting down there before anyone else. Kyle was sleeping deeply and Wyatt didn’t figure he would be waking up soon. He took his time showering and getting dressed. He slipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him and made his way down to breakfast.
Wyatt was surprised to see Professor Swanson sitting at one of the small round tables reading a copy of the Washington Post and sipping on a steaming cup of coffee.
“Morning, Dr. Swanson,” Wyatt greeted, as he made his way to the bar where a spread of cold foods was laid out.
“Oh, well good morning Wyatt,” the older man answered, “I’m surprised to see any of you students up this early.”
“Yeah, well I’m not big on sleeping. Besides, I got enough on the bus trip yesterday. I’m excited about getting started today,” he replied, loading up a plate with a bagel, cream cheese, and a couple of spoonfuls of fresh fruit.
Wyatt set hi food down on a nearby table and the professor ushered him over, “Come sit with me. I’d rather have someone to talk to than read all this garbage the papers report.”
Wyatt smiled, picked up his plate and made his way over. He had always liked Dr. Swanson but other than class, never really spoke with him.
“So Wyatt, what are your plans for the day?” the scholarly old man asked over his glasses.
Dr. Swanson had been very lax on his itinerary for the time they were actually in Washington. He was insistent on them each making a trip to various points of interest but was not restricting them to a particular schedule. They had been given a “walking test” to take, insuring they had visited the prominent areas of concern to the class, but beyond that they were free to explore on their own.
“Well,” Wyatt began, “I want to visit Arlington today. I heard the weather was supposed to be good and figured that would be a good start. My grandfather was killed in World War II and I want to visit his grave.”
“Arlington is a pretty big place. I doubt if you’ll be able to find his marker without help,” the professor replied.
Wyatt knew he was being challenged, “I’ve been here before. My folks brought me here a few years back. I think I should be able to remember where he was buried. I figure it is the least I could do, you know, visit my grandfather.”
Swanson nodded his head, “That’s very noble of you. Then what?”
“I don’t know, I figured I walk over to the monuments, check out Lincoln and the Wall,” Wyatt replied, referring to the Lincoln Memorial and the nearby Vietnam Wall.
“Lot of walking,” the older man replied. “You going with anyone? Maybe your friend Alexandra?”
“Yeah, it’s a lot of walking, but I’m used to it. I loved walking the Freedom Trail in Boston and it is pretty long,” he replied, ignoring the questions.
Dr. Swanson seemed to get the hint, “Well, if you want company I’d be happy to come along. I may need to stop and rest a bit, but I’m still in pretty good shape. I like to attach myself to different groups each day, so I appreciate you letting me tag along with you.”
Wyatt smiled at the professor, “That’d be cool. When did you want to get going?”
“Well, let me get another cup of coffee. You can finish up your breakfast. I seriously doubt anyone else will be up before eight so we might as well get going early,” he answered.
This relieved Wyatt, he had hoped to get up and out before anyone else. This was working out pretty well. Besides, this would give him an excuse for when he finally ran into Alex.

March 30th – Dear Starlog

I had a pretty good day with Professor Swanson. I knew he knew a lot about history, being a PhD and all, but I was completely unaware of how much trivial information he knew. He told me all about the monuments including how they were built and stories about them as they were being built. We walked all around Arlington and he was able to tell me something about some people buried there that I would have never even given a second glance had had he not pointed out their stones. We were able to find my grandfather’s stone and I think that impressed him.
He asked me about Alex and I told him we were just friends. I don’t think he was completely convinced, but what else could I tell him? We are just friends. Sure, I think there could be more, but I know she doesn’t want it. It kinda made me mad. Matter of fact, I kinda resent the way she has played me. I guess being with someone like Dr. Swanson allowed me to be honest with myself. He’s an impartial figure and while I wasn’t willing to share everything, it was nice to be able to talk to someone without worrying about what I said. He’s a good guy.
Alex found me when we got back. She didn’t seem mad, just a bit disappointed. I told her I was sorry for not getting a hold of her last night. I told her I had a monster headache and crashed early. I also explained to her that I met Dr. Swanson in the breakfast room this morning and learned that he was going to be walking around Washington by himself and felt bad. I figured that after the long trip that she would be sleeping and guessed that it wouldn’t be a big deal if I hung out with him.
I still don’t think she was too happy with me, but frankly, she’s going to have to accept it. I’m not here to entertain her. I’m not her puppy that she can play with when she wants to. I’m in control of myself now and you know, I had a good time today. I really liked just walking around with Dr. Swanson. I did tell her that I promised that we could hang out tomorrow.
I don’t know what she did today, but she survived. It was hard looking at her because I know she was disappointed but you know what? Quitting anything is hard. Smoking, drinking, gambling. Each of them has their own challenge and I’ve got to face up to this one. I know I’ll get through it. I managed today and it turned out. I don’t really care for the lying though.

Wyatt Klinker Section 9

Okay, this is a whole lot easier. All I really have to do is post the next chapter of my book. That makes it real easy. It is a whole lot easier than going home, sitting at the computer ans typing for two hours while trying to keep the kids in line and keep Angie from going crazy (due to said children). I also have a bit of an empty feeling. I'm going to miss writing my story. It almost feels like a child that has finally moved out of your house. Sure, it's nice they are gone, but you do wish them.

Over the next week or so I plan on reading over my book and editing sections of it. I doubt I will do any rewrites. While the story isn't my favorite, it is complete, and that makes me happy.

I've already began formulating ideas for a new book, this time one that doesn't live under the constraints of time and word counts. I want to try to improve my writing and hope that somewhere in my head there is a story worthy of being printed and bound. I think I can do it, and I'm buoyed by the fact that my next novel will not be my first. That really feels good to type that. If anyone who reads this likes to write, I encourage them to try Nanowrimo next year. It is tough, but an incredible rush when you finally finish.

Okay, I've got a lot of work to do here today, so I'm not going to drag this out. Here is the next chapter of my book. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

CHAPTER 10: PICTURES

At the beginning of the term Dr. Swanson had told all the students that once again the school was sponsoring a trip to Washington D.C. for the HIS322 and his other class, HIS403 Presidential History. Wyatt had planned on going all along and was excited to know that the trip was a mere week away.
While Wyatt had been to Washington before, he was actually looking forward to the spring break excursion for more than one reason. First, going on the week long trip meant he didn’t have to go back home and confront his aunt, uncle and cousin again. Secondly, he would be given the chance to go back to the east coast, a place he missed dearly.
After their talk a month previous things had really cooled between him and Alex. He still talked to her in class but only met her for lunch once of twice a week as opposed to sharing a meal with her almost every day. He had been bothered by the fact that she didn’t press to share more time with him, but then he realized that she didn’t share the same feelings he had. She had also cooled on what she said around him. They had stopped talking about personal stuff and settled on discussing the mundane.
Wyatt was happy however to find out that she had planned on going to Washington as well. He was actually overly excited and had to force himself to relax and convince himself that just because she was going to DC didn’t mean things were any different. In fact, he actually became melancholy think about it.
Of course she was attuned to his feelings, or so it seemed, and immediately realized something was wrong. After class she grabbed him as they were leaving and asked him if everything was okay.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he lied.
“No it’s not,” she pressed. “I know you well enough to know when you’re bummed out.”
Wyatt had to think fast, “Well, Wednesday is my birthday and I miss my parents. It’s my first one without them.”
Wednesday was in fact Wyatt’s birthday, but in truth he really didn’t care one way or another. After age twelve his parents didn’t do much with birthdays so they didn’t really mean much.
Alex’s faced turned to a frown. She wrapped her arms around him, instantly flooding Wyatt with emotion. He loved having her arms wrapped around him and didn’t want her to let go.
“I’m so sorry Wyatt,” she comforted him. “Is there anything I can do?”
Wyatt didn’t allow himself to fantasize and instead just answered plainly, “No, I’ll be okay. I’ll get through it.”
“Do you want to meet me for dinner?” she offered.
“No, Dave and I are already planning on ordering pizza and hanging out with some guys on the hall,” he lied.
“Okay then,” she replied matter of factly. You let me know if there is anything you need. “Oh, and if I don’t tell you on Wednesday, happy birthday.”
With that Alex turned and walked away, leaving Wyatt to just stand outside in the cold, utterly frustrated with how his emotions were pulling him apart.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell her how you feel,” Dave counseled Wyatt as they both sat in their room munching on pizza and watching the basketball game on television.
“Geez Dave, you sound like a woman,” Wyatt chided, throwing a pizza crust at his roommate.
The two of them had become good friends and Wyatt didn’t have a problem opening up to him. He had shared his feelings about Alex as well as all the mess at home, including the progression of the Lindsey issue. Dave, when he took the time to shut up was an amazingly good listener. He didn’t offer advice unless first asked and he admitted when he had no idea what to do. Alex had become a constant point of discussion between the two.
Dave picked up the thrown crust and immediately took a bite out of it, offering a Cheshire-like smile.
“You are one sick SOB Dave,” Wyatt signed, shaking his head.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the other man replied, shoving the rest of the crust in his mouth.
Wyatt propped his feet up on a milk crate and took another piece of pizza from the box. Just then someone knocked on the door.
“What do you want!?!” Dave yelled; his traditional greeting to the few visitors the two had.
“Do you have to do that,” Wyatt laughed, getting up and going to the door.
He was surprised when he opened it and found Alex standing there, her left hand hidden inside her long winter coat.
“Oh, hi,” Wyatt stuttered, surprised by her appearance at his door. She had never been to his room and he never really expected her to see it. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I felt bad for you because of your first birthday and all,” she looked down, not really knowing how to address the issue. “Well I felt bad considering your parents not being here to celebrate and all so I bought you a present.”
“Is that the stripper I hired for your birthday, Wy?” Dave shouted from behind him.
Alex laughed, “That must be Dave.”
Wyatt opened the door and stepped aside so she to come in, “Alex, this is my roommate Dave, Dave, this is Alex.”
“Nope, that’s not the stripper, but she’ll do,” Dave said, pulling himself up out of his chair.
Wyatt shot Dave a look that told him that he was crossing the line.
“I’m sorry. Hello Alex, it’s nice to meet you.”
Wyatt allowed himself to relax, “It’s good to see you, I really didn’t expect you to come over.”
“Well, I didn’t either, but I really felt bad for you so I brought you a present,” she pulled her hand out of her coat and revealed a tall bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. “I thought first I would contribute to the delinquency of a minor.
She pulled the paper bag off the bottle to reveal a bottle of champagne, “Do you have glasses?”
Wyatt retrieved a stack of Styrofoam coffee cups from the top of Dave’s refrigerator, “This is all we got, I hope they will do.”
“I really like this girl Wyatt. You should have invited her over earlier,” Dave contributed as he once again settled into his chair.
Wyatt flopped down on the floor, allowing Alex to have the seat he had vacated when she arrived. He watched her as her boney fingers pulled the foil off of the cork. They were long and delicate, the nails painted a subtle pink color. He allowed himself to be mesmerized by her movements.
Once she got the foil off she handed the bottle to Wyatt, “You have the honors of popping the cork, Birthday Boy.”
The bottle was one of those less expensive champagnes and had a plastic stopper which took a little wiggling to remove, but didn’t require a bottle opener. Wyatt struggle momentarily before he felt the cork give way. He held on to the cap as he heard the tell-tale pop as it was removed wholly from its nesting place in the bottle.
“Sorry it’s not chilled. I picked it up on my way over,” she admitted as she pulled three cups from the stack, setting them out on the same milk crate Wyatt had used as a foot stool earlier.
He poured each glass, bringing them as close to the top as he could without allowing a prolific amount of foam to spill over. Each took a cup but before they could drink, Dave offered up a toast.
“To the best person who has ever kicked my ass. Oh, and to a pretty decent roomie too,” he said as he lifted his glass.
The other two touched their cups to his and drank deeply, enjoying the bubbly sensation of the champagne. It was the first Wyatt had ever had and he was immediately smitten with its sweet taste and soda-pop fizz.
“Oh, my turn,” Alex blurted after topping off everyone’s glass from the bottle.
She thought for a moment before raising her glass and speaking, “I propose a toast to overdue library books, cold November evenings, and freshmen with the guts to hit on upperclassmen.”
Again they repeated the glass tipping ritual, Wyatt giving a smile to Alex and she returned the same.
“Really Wyatt, I’m glad I met you. You are a good friend and I’m going to miss you after I graduate. Oh, that reminds me, I got you a present.”
Dave raised his eyebrows at mention of a gift and Wyatt shot him a look that said, “Don’t you dare say whatever is running through that perverted head of yours.”
Alex didn’t notice the exchange as she began looking through her handbag. She found what she was looking for and pulled out a small package. It was wrapped in rich blue paper with a fluorescent pink ribbon. She handed to Wyatt and explained, “It’s not much but I wanted to get you something.”
Wyatt wasn’t accustomed to receiving gifts and took it, staring at the ribbon and the paper. He was stalled, wondering what it was.
“Well open it dummy,” she told him, leaning forward to watch him.
Wyatt took his time, first removing the ribbon without damaging it. Find the tape that held the paper to itself, he pulled it apart and extracted the gift.
“What is it,” he asked, not sure what the small electronic device was that he now held in his hand.
“Push the button on the side,” she instructed him.
He did as he was told, and a picture of Alex sitting at her desk in her down room appeared on the screen. After about five seconds the image changed to another shot of her, this time posing for the camera, her smile shining.
Wyatt spent a few minute looking as the image continued to change.
“It’s a digital picture frame that you can carry in your pocket,” she explained. “I saw it at the drug store and thought it was pretty cool. I didn’t know if you’d like it or not. You don’t have to keep those pictures of me on there; I just thought it would be better to give it to you with something on it.”
“No,” Wyatt interrupted, “I really like it. And I like the pictures too. Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. You’re a good friend and I like spending time with you,” she said, her voice serious.
Wyatt didn’t know how to reply. This was an odd position he was in. Luckily, Dave broke the tension when he suddenly blurted out, “Oh shit, I forgot my report for my finance class tomorrow. I’ve got to get over to the computer lab before it closes so I can run it off.”
He grabbed his coat, slipped on a pair of sneakers without bothering to unlace them and made his way to the door. “It was nice meeting you Alex, thanks for the champagne.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. Sorry for interrupting you and Wyatt’s little party.”
He waved her off as he went out the door, “Not a problem”. He then left, closing the door behind him, leaving Alex and Wyatt alone.
Even though the television was still on, there was a dead stillness to the air in the room. It was a tension built on indecision. This was an opportunity for Wyatt to stress his feelings about Alex, but fear was also prevalent. He didn’t want to scare her off. He decided to play it safe.
“Thanks again for the gift, it means a lot. I certainly wasn’t expecting it,” he stated plainly enough, looking again as the scrolling pictures.
“Wyatt, I meant what I said. You are a real good friend and I do like spending time with you,” she said as she got out of the chair and sat down on the floor beside him. She took his hand. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I like being your friend and I don’t want to ruin it by letting it become something more serious. I hope you understand because your friendship is super important to me.”
Wyatt was screaming inside, “Why don’t you feel the same way about me that I feel about you! I don’t care! Why can’t we have something more!?!”
Instead, he just said meekly, “It’s ok Alex. I understand. I don’t want anything more than our friendship either. It is important to me too that we stay friends.”
She didn’t seem to notice his deceit, “I’m glad Wyatt. You are such a sweet guy.” She then leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. For an instance before her lips touched his cheek he could feel her warm breath on his face and became awash with a sense of euphoria. For a moment he allowed his eyes to close and soaked up her energy. As the kiss ended, he felt a deep depression overcome him. As she pulled away he forced a smile.
“Well, I’ve got to get back to my dorm. I’ve got a bunch of reading to do,” she said as they both stood up. “I’m glad I got to share a bit of your birthday with you.”
“Yeah, I’m glad you stopped by. Thanks for the champagne and the gift,” he replied uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Oh, you want me to walk you back to your dorm?”
“Oh no, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind the walk,” she replied, pulling her coat back on.
“You sure?” he asked, “Let me at least walk you down to the door.”
She nodded and the two made their way down the hallway to the bank of elevators.
“I’m looking forwards to our trip to DC next week,” she stated, a bit of excitement in her voice.
“Yeah, I am too. I still need to go out and pick of stuff for the trip. I’ll probably do that Friday night,” he revealed.
“Oh! I’ve got to do that too. You mind if I go with you?”
Considering the feelings racing through his mind, he would have rather said “yes, he did mind” but he couldn’t force himself to deny her, nor deny an opportunity to be around her.
“Sure, you can come, maybe we could grab something to eat while we’re out.”
“That sounds like fun. What time, six?” she asked.
“Yeah, that sounds okay with me. We can talk about it more in class on Friday.” He answered as they reached the front door.
She turned to face him, “that will work. Happy birthday Wyatt. I’m glad you didn’t have to spend it alone this year.”
As she spoke he looked into her eyes and saw a flicker of something there. It was as if she was holding back, not revealing everything to him. He refused to believe it and shook the feeling off.
“Thanks Alex, I enjoyed spending time with you. This was a good birthday,” he replied.
She wrapped her arms around him and stood there hugging him, rocking her body back and forth slightly. He wanted to say something but didn’t.
When they finally separated she looked at him again and that same look was there. He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead he just smiled and said, “Be careful walking home. I’ll see you later.”
“Yup. Have a nice night,” was her only reply as she turned and left. She looked back once to see if he was still standing there, watching her, but he was gone.

March 25th -Dear Starlog

Alex just left and I can’t help but feel that she wanted me to kiss her when I walked her out. This is so confusing. I know we would be perfect together, so I don’t know why she won’t just let go. I know she’s graduating, but Rockford isn’t all that far. I think we could make it work. Besides, she could easily find a job here in the city. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just desperate.
Well, I’ve got to take what I can get. Right now it just means being friends and being happy with that.
What the hell am I saying? She has been clear that she doesn’t want anything more than a friendship. I’m acting like a stupid little freshman. I have two more months of class then the summer will be here. I should make the best of what time I have left here because going back to live with my aunt and uncle is going to be completely depressing. I think I’ll just find a job to keep me occupied all summer. That way I don’t have to be around much.
I am looking forward to going to Washington on Sunday. It has been at least eight years since mom and dad took me there on our summer vacation. It was fairly interesting then, but of course that was before I really had an interest in history. There are a few places I would love to go, namely the National Archives and the Smithsonian. The monuments are cool, but once you’ve seen them once they aren’t that big a deal. Of course, if Alex wants to go see them I’ll take her, but it doesn’t much matter to me.
I suppose I should get some sleep. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to get some stuff at the library. I don’t know why I’m even going to try though. I know that, like most nights, I’ll lay awake thinking about her. I always do.

I am a Novelist!

At 9:57pm on Saturday, November 2008 I was officially recognized as a novelist. After twenty nine days of writing I finally completed my 50,000 words necessary to win Nanowrimo.

I can't really describe the feeling of accomplishment I am experiencing. I loved writing this book and it feels so good to know that I accomplished something I've always wanted to do. I'm not going to spend a whole lot of time gloating about this, but I will tell you that I couldn't have been happier with the way my book turned out. Granted there is a lot of editing that needs to be done, but I'm up for it. The end of the book, which I was most worried about actually turned out way better than a I thought. I will be posting subsequent chapters as I go along so you will see. Right now I'm just happy I was able to accomplish my goal of writing a novel.

Wyatt Klinker Section 7

Well, this weekend I ran headlong into a brick wall. I'm 33,000 words in and I am feeling drained by writing. I know I need to keep pushing, but with only a week to go, this hill in front of me seems so high. Right now I sit 6,500 words behind schedule with a mere 6 days to get caught up. I know that Thursday is going to be a completely loss and tonight is going to be impossible to get work done, so it is pretty daunting. Everyone I've talked to has said that after you cross 35,000 words it is all down hill and it becomes a lot easier. I would have thought I would start feeling a bit of that, but I haven't. Instead I've felt pretty oppressed.

The positives that I have working for me: 1. Angie only works late tonight, which means Wednesday night will be freed up for writing as long as Dad and Janie wait to come down until Thursday. 2. I have absolutely nothing planned for Saturday, which means I could get a lot of writing done then. 3. Megan will be home tonight and be able to help with the kids, so I may be freed up even more in the evenings to get writing done. 4. And most importantly, I work so much better under pressure that deadlines have never really bothered me.

Gracie has been a big backer of mine. She is always standing over my shoulder asking me how many words I have now, I many I need, and how long am I going to be writing. Sure, she wants me off the computer so I can spend time with her, but hey, she keeps me thinking about where I am and what I have to do.

I hope I can do it.

That said, here's the next chapter. Any support you can give would be appreciated.

CHAPTER 8: GREG

It was evident that it hadn’t taken his Uncle Rich long to convert the room over the garage back into a weight room. In fact, they had actually expanded the collection of free weights since he had moved away to college. It was also evident that they had no intentions of making the room back into Wyatt’s with his return home. The weight bench that had once been tucked into a corner to give Wyatt more space was now in the middle of the room, sitting on a red plastic mat. The new free weights sat underneath the television on a heavy black rack rather than filling up space in the walk-in like the old ones had.
The bed sat in the same place, just like where it had been when he’d left. A clean set of sheets and two worn blankets were folded neatly, waiting Wyatt. He laughed at the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Here his aunt paid a housekeeper to work forty hours a week for her, yet it was evident she had told Chaya to just leave the bedding for Wyatt to tend to.
Wyatt didn’t really care. It wasn’t as if he had never made a bed before. He just thought about how petty his surrogate family was and for a moment a wave of grief washed over him.
These feelings had come often at the beginning, soon after he had learned about his parents, but since going away to college they had been far less seldom. This place however was forever associated with that day, and just being here weighed on him.
“Three weeks, that’s all,” he said to himself as he unfolded the sheets and began making the bed. “I can handle that. I’ll just stay up hear and avoid everyone.”
After putting his things away and making his bed, Wyatt flopped down on the weight bench and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the next three weeks would hold. Lindsey was prominently at the forefront of his thoughts.
It wasn’t long before his Aunt Carla called out to him, hollering that dinner was ready.
Wyatt was surprised to see the table set with the nice glassware. He initially thought that perhaps they were treating him, seeing as this was the first dinner he had eaten at home since Thanksgiving (well, not really, they had went out for dinner then). Instead, Wyatt was surprised to see Lindsey walk in from the den holding hands with a tall, handsome boy.
“Wyatt, this is Lindsey’s friend Greg. He goes to her school” Carla introduced.
Wyatt looked the tall boy over and extended his hand, “Hi, I’m Lindsey’s cousin. Nice to meet you.”
“How ya doing Wyatt?” he replied, shaking the proffered hand.
Wyatt didn’t know what to think. Here was his solace, a guy that Lindsey seemingly liked (enough to ask to dinner anyway), that would take the pressure off of him. Wyatt was positive that given a choice between him and Greg, that she would choose Greg. This should have made Wyatt feel good, but instead he felt the slight crush of jealousy.
Lindsey, regardless of her relation to him, had been something of a milestone for Wyatt and while he felt a great deal of shame for what they had done, he still cherished the memory of those moments. It was an emotional tug-of-war he fought with whenever he saw her and the presence of Greg simply intensified one side.
“Wyatt, Greg plays basketball for our school,” Lindsey announced during the meal. “Did you ever play when you were in high school?”
“No, I didn’t play any sports,” he replied, glancing at her.
“Yeah, he’s really good. You should see him play,” she continued. “He played football to.”
“Wow, he’s must be quite an athlete,” Wyatt played along.
Greg looked up from his plate, not saying anything.
“He’s a senior. He wants to go to Northwestern when he graduates.”
“Oh yeah, what do you want to study?” Wyatt asked.
“I was think about psychology or sociology,” he replied, his mouth full of food.
“Well good luck, college is a lot different than high school,” Wyatt didn’t like what was going on. He got the impression that Lindsey was parading Greg in front of him.
Wyatt remained quiet through the rest of dinner, simply listening and watching as Lindsey and Greg talked with Rich and Carla. Occasionally Lindsey would cackle at something funny and grab Greg’s arm. Or he would say something that she would feel emotional about it and put her head on his shoulder. Each time she did so she would glance across the table at Wyatt, attempting to judge his reaction.
Wyatt hurried through his meal and excused himself, explaining he was tired after a week of exams.
Greg relayed that he was happy to meet him, and under the auspicious stare of Lindsey, Wyatt returned the sentiment.
“I’m sure Greg will be around while you’re home Wyatt,” Lindsey added as he turned to walk away.
“It will be nice to have him,” he replied diplomatically, not allowing her to get under his skin.

Wyatt avoided Lindsey whenever he could. For the most part it was pretty easy. She was rarely home. She was normally at Greg’s and on the rare occasions she was home, he was usually with her. That made it easy for Wyatt who just stayed in his room. Aunt Carla had evidently gotten used to Wyatt’s presence because she was home much more often; at least she was when Lindsey was home. It hadn’t occurred to him that she didn’t trust Lindsey either until one night when he was laying on his bed watching television, Uncle Rich came into his room.
“Wyatt, you got a second?” he asked from the doorway.
“What’s up Uncle Rich,” he replied, turning the volume down.
“Well, um,” the older man seemed uncomfortable; “I wanted to ask a favor.”
Wyatt seemed a bit confused but at the same time flattered. Up until this point he had been nothing other than a fixture around the house. To think that he could be useful to either of his guardians was a definite change.
“Sure, what do you need?” Wyatt was curious.
“Well, Carla and I are going to a company Christmas party and we were wondering,” he allowed his voice to trail off. “You see, um, Lindsey is having Greg over and I, well, we were wondering, do you think you could keep an eye on them?”
Wyatt considered what he was asking.
Rich continued before Wyatt could answer, “I mean I doubt anything is going on between them, but I don’t know, I guess I just don’t trust high school boys with my little girl.”
“Sure, Uncle Rich. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. They’ll probably just watch movies, but I’ll keep an eye on them,” Wyatt thought back to the night Lindsey had visited him in his room and could feel his face start to flush.
“Thanks Wyatt, I really appreciate this,” he said as he turned to leave. “I don’t know why I should be worried, Lindsey is a good girl.”
After Rich had left Wyatt laid there thinking about Lindsey and Greg. It seemed to him like a strange relationship. According to Chaya, they had only started seeing each other a day or two before Wyatt had come home. It seemed to Wyatt like his Uncle Rich was a bit paranoid.
“Oh well,” he thought, “at least she’s leaving me alone.” Yet the whole idea of her getting serious with a boy rubbed him the wrong way.
He fell asleep that night thinking about her, about him, and about the mess that had happened between them. His last wish prior to falling asleep had been that he never would have come back here because he knew that Lindsey, if anything, was a weakness and temptation constantly hammered at him. Greg’s presence had just made it worse.
The next day was uneventful, Wyatt simply hung out in his room, reading or watching television depending on his mood. College hadn’t offered much free time for personal reading and he cherished the lazy winter break where he was able to knock out a stack of books with little interruption.
Before he realized it his Aunt Carla was knocking on his door, “Wyatt, we’re leaving. Please stay out of trouble while were gone.”
She turned to leave, but looked back, “Oh, Lindsey and Greg are downstairs in the den watching a movie. I don’t know what it is, but you might join them and see if it’s anything you’ve not seen.”
“Sure thing Aunt Carla,” he said, at the same time thinking, “Oh, so she doesn’t trust her either.”
Wyatt took his time wandering down to the den. He stopped off first in the kitchen and gathered some cheese and crackers to munch on. While he wasn’t set on destroying Lindsey’s evening, he wasn’t going to make it easy either. He had no loyalty at all towards his aunt and uncle, but Wyatt had promised to keep an eye on them and he wasn’t one to break promises.
“Whatcha guys watching?” he asked as he walked in and flipped on the lights in the previously dark room.
The two of them shielded their eyes from the light as Wyatt sat down in a recliner, the plate of cheese and crackers balanced on his knee.
“Wyatt, turn off the light,” Lindsey whined.
“Oh, sorry,” he said apologetically as he stood up, reached the switch and flipped the lights back off. “You guys want some cheese and crackers? It’s Gouda cheese. I don’t really like it, too smoky for me, but it isn’t horrible with crackers.”
His idle chatter evidently irritated Lindsey because she just whined again, “Wyatt, we are watching a movie, be quiet!”
“What movie is it?” he ignored her.
“It’s some zombie movie,” Greg answered. “Hey, I’ll try some of that cheese.”
His request garnered a nasty look from Lindsey as she attempted to ignore Wyatt.
Wyatt passed the plate in front of his cousin and Greg took it, setting it on his lap and proceeding to stack cheese upon crackers.
Lindsey looked at Wyatt and he could tell she was angry. Her brow was furrowed and her lips pursed. He knew he had gotten a rise out of her. He felt a bit guilty, as if he had pushed to far.
“I’m sorry Lindsey, I’ll be quiet. You mind if I watch this with you?” he heard her sigh audibly.
“I would rather you leave, actually,” she responded.
“Well, its Friday and there is nothing on regular TV, so I’ll just be quiet and sit over here and you won’t even know I’m in the room,” he replied, not giving ground.
She huffed and glared at him. All the while Greg sat there quietly, munching on crackers, watching the movie. She turned back to the movie and Wyatt could tell she was fuming.
They sat watching the movie for about a half hour, Wyatt commenting occasionally. For a little while he and Greg carried on a conversation about the stupidity of the characters before Lindsey shushed them, bring that to a close.
Shortly afterwards Lindsey said she was cold. Wyatt asked her it she wanted him to turn on the fireplace and she ignored him, getting up and grabbing an afghan off the back of a chair. She unfolded it and sat back down, covering up Greg and herself as she cuddled up close to him. He was pretty clueless to her attentions, riveted by what was happening on the television. She reached up and pulled his arm around him, stealing a glance at Wyatt as she did so.
In truth Wyatt didn’t really care. Her affections were all innocent and Wyatt was cool with that. So far he had done his job.
After awhile Wyatt was thirsty and decided to grab something to drink. After announcing what he was doing, and offering to get them something, he walked into the kitchen.
Lindsey jumped up and followed him, “That sounds good, I’ll help you.”
Entering the kitchen Lindsey closed the door between it and the den, “What are you doing Wyatt?”
“Nothing,” he replied innocently enough.
“You know you are messing with me, and I don’t particularly like it. Why can’t you just leave Greg and me alone?” she confronted him.
“Hey, I’m not doing anything, I just want to watch the movie is all,” he feigned innocently.
“That’s bullshit,” she exclaimed, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t carry back to Greg in the den. “Can’t you leave me alone so I can spend some time with my boyfriend?”
“No, I can’t,” he said honestly, because in truth he really had no other answer.
“What’s wrong with you?” she questioned.
“There’s nothing the matter with me, I just don’t feel like sitting in my room for the tenth straight night sitting around doing nothing. Is there something the matter with that?” he challenged back.
She stood staring at him for a few seconds, apparently trying to read his thoughts. Then a smile crept across her face, as if she had unlocked the answer to a riddle. She nodded her head at him.
“Greg makes you jealous, doesn’t he?”
Wyatt laughed, “Yeah right.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” she continued to smile.
“Why would he make me jealous Lindsey.”
“Well maybe because he is getting all of my attention and you aren’t getting any,” she said, her voice teasing him.
“Lindsey, what the hell is wrong with you? Why is it you think I want you so badly? I don’t, I never have,” he blurted back at her, losing his patience.
“You didn’t seem to mind kissing me all that much this summer, in fact, it seemed to me you were having a pretty good time right up until you started acting like a baby and got all scared.”
“Lindsey, listen to yourself! You’re my cousin, doesn’t that mean anything to you?” he countered.
“It didn’t seem to matter all that much to you when you had your hands all over me,” she barked.
“That was a mistake, and you know it. It was you that came into my room, or don’t you remember?” Wyatt was frustrated. “I stopped because I knew it was wrong and I knew you wouldn’t.”
“You’re a liar Wyatt. You got scared, and now you are all upset because I’m seeing someone. You are mad because you weren’t man enough when you had the opportunity and now you’re trying to take it out on me and Greg.” She pointed at him, “You had your chance, and you blew it.”
Wyatt was tired of arguing with her, “Whatever.”
“Fine, Greg and I will go up to my room and watch TV, you sit down here and just leave me alone,” she returned.
“No you’re not, you’re staying down here. I don’t want you going up there with him,” he ordered her.
She glared at him, “You really think you’re my boss? You think you can tell me what to do? Wyatt, you are nothing. You only stay here because my parents feel sorry for you.”
Wyatt felt the verbal jab, even though he was acutely aware of its truth. He had always realized that he would never be more than a guest here, a tolerated, if not unwanted guest, but hearing it still had an effect on him.
He felt compelled to hit back, “Hell, I don’t care if you screw his brains out Lindsey. The only reason I’m trying to stop you is because both your mom and dad asked me to keep an eye on you because they don’t trust you and they knew you would do something like this.”
“That’s bullshit Wyatt and you know it,” Lindsey yelled at him, “my parents trust me more than they ever will you. I knew you were jealous of Greg, but trying to convince me that they trust you more than me, that’s just sad.”
“Lindsey, just take it easy,” he tried to calm her.
“I’m going upstairs,” she announced, heading back towards the den.
“No you’re not,” he countered, sliding to block her way.
“Get out of my way, Wyatt,” she scowled.
“Lindsey, don’t do this, I promised your parents,” he let the words trail.
“Exactly Wyatt, MY PARENTS! Not yours, mine. I’ll deal with them, they’ll deal with me. If you were still in school this wouldn’t be an issue. They have no problem “trusting” me when you’re not here. You’re pissed because I have a boyfriend and you can’t have me,” Lindsey’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I gave myself to you Wyatt, and you threw me out. I thought you felt something but I was wrong. Now get the hell out of my way,” she pushed past him and back into the den.
He stood there, angry and frustrated. Should he pursue her and make Greg leave? “To hell with her, to hell with my uncle,” he thought to himself. “She’s a big girl; if Uncle Rich wanted a babysitter then he should have hired one.”
Wyatt made a beeline to his room, slamming the door as he got there. Moments latter he heard Lindsey’s bedroom door slam as well, signaling to him that she had carried through with her promise to retreat to her room.
As Wyatt sat there on the edge of his bed he replayed their encounter in the kitchen back through his head. Why had she insisted on thinking that he was jealous? He didn’t care who she dated. He should have never told her that he was supposed to keep an eye on her. That just made her angry.
“What should I do now?” he thought to himself as he sat there rocking back and forth.
He had half a mind to go and apologize, but fought with himself. He didn’t see why he needed to; she was the one being stupid.
He lay back on his bed and flipped on the television, looking for something that would occupy his mind. He flipped channels for about a half hour but he couldn’t get the argument out of his head. He needed to talk to her again, to clear it up. Resolved, he got up and headed for the door.
The hallway was quiet, her door still closed. As he approached he could hear the sound of the television, turned up incredibly loud. He got an extremely uncomfortable feeling as he rapped on the door.
“Go away Wyatt,” was all he heard come from the room.
This didn’t deter him; he had to talk to her, to make her understand everything, to clear up all these issues. Wyatt disregarded her message and gripping the knob, turned it and opened the door.
Their clothes were piled on the floor beside the bed. Wyatt knew immediately that he had failed his uncle. Lindsey glared at her cousin over Greg’s bare shoulder as for a moment he continued to bounce up and down on her, their naked bodies hidden under the covers, “Get out Wyatt!”
Stunned, Wyatt just closed the door and retreated to his bedroom, “Oh, Lindsey.”

January 7th - Dear Starlog

Tomorrow I finally go back at school. Frankly, these last three weeks at home have been horrible. I’m not sure I can stand to be around Lindsey anymore. Not just that I caught her having sex with Greg, but because I know that I cause her misery when I’m around. The night I walked in on her and Greg I initially just went back to my room and tried to forget what I saw. Needless to say that wasn’t real easy.
At about eleven-thirty I heard her bedroom door open and Greg leave. I don’t know why I cared but I still wanted to talk to her. When I heard her bedroom door close again I went to her room. It was pretty obvious she was crying. I didn’t have the nerve to knock.
I’ve spent the last couple weeks just avoiding her. Christmas morning was horrible for me and I’m pretty sure it was the same for her.
I’ve heard her crying in her room more than once over the last two weeks. I’m not sure it has anything to do with me, but it is likely.
After that Friday, Greg stopped coming around. Aunt Carla told me that they broke up that same weekend as our argument. Both her and Uncle Rich were disappointed because they really liked him, especially after I lied and told them that Lindsey and Greg just hung out in the den while they were gone that night.
It makes me feel ashamed that I wasn’t able to protect her from herself. Of course, I’m really not qualified to do so. Hell, I can’t even protect her from me. I knew that she had feelings for me all the way back to that day on the veranda, but I never did anything about it. In fact, I just made the matter worse by not stopping her when she came in my room.
I like to think that with me back at school I won’t have to worry about this any more. Unfortunately I’ve been dealt a pretty shitty hand and my uncle’s house is now my home. With that comes Lindsey. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate not having control?

Wyatt Klinker Section 6

The last couple of days have not been good for writing. First off, I missed work yesterday because I was sick. Angie, Balin and I all have some kind of crud. I actually thought it was going to be a good opportunity to get some writing done, but I was lazy. I didn't really do anything and as a result, I'm a bit behind. As of right now I am about 3200 words off of my pace. Now that's not bad. I've already managed to knock out about 1700 words today during lunch. I think Angie is taking Gracie to a movie the PTA is sponsoring tonight and if I can get Balin to behave, I might be able to get back where I need to be. If not, I have every intention of getting back to my pace (hopefully ahead of pace) by this weekend. I don't have a lot of time left but the good thing is that I am on my way back down off this writing mountain. I've passed the halfway point and now all I have to do is finish. Wish me luck.

Next section now. Enjoy...

CHAPTER 7: ALEX

There is a certain rhythm about a college campus, be it one set by the constant stanza set for by the class schedules or the movements by students from one class to another. Often times students become friends and travel in the same footsteps they created days before, only in partnership with another. They tend to eat at the same time, go to the library the same day of the week, and create a predictable schedule of life. This was Wyatt’s world, something that appealed to his core persona.
As part of his weekly schedule, Wyatt would go to the library to sit for an hour or so on Thursday nights reading his literature homework. Dave was a huge fan of some hospital drama and was insistent on watching every week. On top of that, Dave was one who interacted with the television, shouting or grumbling at the characters, or worst still, making predictions about the outcome of the weekly storyline. He had tried to draw Wyatt into his weekly ritual but had given up when Wyatt had simply told him that there were some things he would not think of changing about his roommate. Not sure what to think about that statement, Dave had just given up with a shrug.
Wyatt sat in his usual chair, fighting through the complexities of Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying. It was a difficult book and he found his eyes growing heavy quite often. When he thought he would fall asleep he would set the book on his lap and look around, taking a few minutes to look at the people around him.
It was late fall and the sun had set hours ago. Yet out the window to his left Wyatt saw under the light post the figure of a woman walking across the grass to the front door of the library. He watched as she approached. There was something about her that held his attention. She wasn’t gorgeous, but she wasn’t ugly either. Her nose could be described as hawk-like, a bit too big for her narrow, almost boney facial features. Her hair was cut relatively short, and was swept back off her face. Parted in the middle, Wyatt could see as she approached that it was a brownish-red in color. Her shoulders were hunched from the cold, her hands tucked inside the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt. She held a book close to her chest, as if to ward it from the cold.
Wyatt followed her with his eyes until she disappeared from view for a moment as she passed through the doors and into the library proper. She carried the book to the front counter and deposited it in return slot. All the while Wyatt watched her.
He noticed that though she was relatively tall, she was very slight in build. Her hips were narrow under her faded jeans and the fingers of her hands were long and nearly skeletal. Her skin was pale but flawless. Her walk was neither graceful nor clunky. She just seemed to move with a musical like cadence, formal and assured.
She turned to leave and Wyatt pulled his focus away, afraid she might catch him staring at her. He picked up his book and pretended to be reading, glancing every once in awhile to watch the young woman.
It was evident she was dreading going back into the cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed the backs of her biceps as if to will the warmth back into her body. After a moment or two of that, she blew into her hands, warming them with her breath.
Wyatt didn’t know why she compelled him to watch her, but she did. Before long, he spoke, not realizing he was doing so until it was too late.
“You know, there’s another chair here, you can sit down and warm up before you go out.”
She turned and looked at him, not knowing if he was talking to her or not.
“You look like you’re freezing to death, come on, sit down for a second,” he felt buoyed by his initial outspokenness.
Wyatt had never been very outgoing. In fact, he felt best when he just blended in with his surroundings. Every since the fight with Dave though, he had grown more comfortable with asserting himself, be it in class, in his study group, or out in public with his hall mates at dinner. This however, speaking to complete stranger, complete female stranger, was a new sensation.
“I’ve got to get back to my room. I just needed to drop off a book,” she replied, a smile flashing across her face, then immediately disappearing.
Wyatt loved her voice from the first word she spoke. It was deep and sultry without effort. He stared at her, a smile plastered across his face.
“What?” she asked, wondering why he continued to look at her like that.
Wyatt shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Sorry about that, I zoned out there for a minute. I didn’t mean to stare.”
She laughed and Wyatt suppressed a shiver. “You’re strange.”
Wyatt smiled again, “I don’t know if that is a compliment or not. Sure you won’t sit down and warm up before heading back out there?”
“I don’t know, I’ve got a ton of homework to do,” she seemed to wrestle with herself internally.
“Well you need a break from it, right?” he offered, trying to give her a reason to stay.
“Well, this walk over to the library was supposed to be my break,” she parried.
“Oh, come on now, what is another five minutes?” Wyatt surprised himself with his tenacity.
The girl looked at Wyatt, then at her watch, then at Wyatt again before shrugging then flopping down in the chair across from him.
“I usually don’t talk to strange boys in the library,” she said, smirking at him.
“Well, before meeting you I didn’t actually think I was strange,” he answered back, returning a smile.
“I’m Alex,” she said, offering her hand.
“Hi, I’m Wyatt, nice to meet you,” he said as he shook her hand.
“Geez,” he said, “you’re hands are freezing.”
“My whole body is freezing. I should have worn a jacket but my dorm is right across the street and I was just going to run over for a second,” she took back her hand and thrust both into the pocket in the front of her sweatshirt.
Wyatt allowed himself to think, “I wish I could help warm you up,” but instead said, “well, it is November.”
“Watcha reading?” she asked, glancing at the book on his knee.
“Stuff for my lit class. It’s pretty boring.”
“Yeah, I hated lit,” she replied, “you aren’t a major are you?”
“No,” he quickly answered, “I don’t think I could handle four years of this stuff.”
“Tell me about it, I struggled with the two semesters I took,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Oh, you’re not a freshman?” he blurted out, cringing as he realized what he was asking.
“Oh no, I’m a senior,” she returned, “I take it you are?”
Trapped, Wyatt admitted, “Yeah, I am.”
Alex just smiled at him, not knowing what to say, “Well,” she said glancing at her watch again, I’ve really got to get going. It was nice meeting you Wyatt. Maybe I’ll see you again around campus.”
“Sure Alex, it was nice meeting you,” he replied, not believing how stupid he had been.
She got up and walked out, using her shoulder to push against the door, allowing herself to keep her hands tucked away inside her pockets. As she pushed through the door she flashed a smile at Wyatt and shook her head. All Wyatt could do was offer her an incredibly insignificant wave as she disappeared back into the cold.

December 16th - Dear Starlog

As of two o’clock today I can say that I have officially completed my first semester of college. The unfortunate thing is now I have to go back to my uncle’s house for winter break. I tried to get my RA, Tim to let me stay here, but he said that the dorms would be closed down and the heat basically turned off. I tried to tell him that I could handle it but he just spouted off about liability and all that garbage. In the end, it was just a no, so I guess I head “home”.
I’m not sure what my grades are going to be, but I’m pretty confident. Although I hate algebra and had to get a tutor for part of the semester I think I scored a solid “B” in that. Art appreciation was not a boring as I thought it would be (though I doubt I will be striking up any conversations about Manet and his style of impressionism compared to Monet anytime soon) and I know I got an “A” in there. The final was just matching artists and titles to various pictures and I aced that. Geography was my favorite class and I figure I should get a pretty good grade in there except I know I screwed up my Southeast Asia map on the final. Oh well. My last class, lit, was okay and I did alright in there too. I kinda cheated and skimmed the last couple books we read for class but I think the strength of the first half of the term will carry me to at least a “B”. Truthfully I wouldn’t be surprised if I got an “A” or “A-minus” in there too.
Looking back I have to say that college isn’t all that bad. For the most part it is pretty anonymous. Once in awhile I open my dorm room door and someone wanders in, but for the most part people just leave you alone. Same with walking around on campus, people generally stick to themselves and that’s cool with me.
Dave left yesterday to head back to Michigan. He was looking forward to being home for a few weeks. He has turned out to be a pretty decent guy. He is still a slob, but I can live with that. It is funny about him. I noticed that people tend to look at Dave the same way they look at my friend Steve, the one in the wheelchair. It might just be Dave’s stupid t-shirts, but I think it is just Dave. He draws attention to himself, even when he is doing nothing at all. I’ve heard people talk about charisma and the natural attraction people have toward others. I wonder if that works in reverse. Do anti-charismatic people like Steve in his wheelchair or Dave with his goofy looks and vulgar t-shirts do the same thing? What does that say about me, someone who is generally overlooked wherever I go? Is there a color spectrum for charisma with most people floating in the middle where others spike at the extreme poles? I don’t know. I guess if there is I’m happy to be right in the middle.
I think I’m going to stay here in the dorms as long as I can before they kick me out. That may just be until Friday (oh, today is Wednesday) but that’s fine with me. I know there are a couple of guys down the hall that are sticking around. I may hang around with them. I just don’t want to go back to Aunt Carla and Uncle Rich’s.