Quill & Claw/Pen & Paw

Roland kept noticing he had to go the bathroom. The feeling kept returning, even after relieving himself and coming to Marcie's house. He checked his shirt, he checked his fingernails. He ran his fingers through his hair again. It may have been Marcie's house, but in her own way, she was late. She had stayed in the kitchen after all the coffee and water was served. Still, she insisted, the food needed to be reheated. Mollie kneeled on the couch to Roland's right and stared out the window, through the lace curtains. "I can still see the flag. That stupid bright flag. How he dares! I can see it through the blue, blue," she paused, "Marcie, this curtains are very, very clean. Did you do this yourself?" "No, husband treated me to that drapery cleaning business, you know, from television?" she yelled over no noise. Sharon did not look up from her Bible. She had crossed her legs and pulled her dress over the knee. It tick-tocked with a large wall ...

Well, I'll go ahead and be redundant. We're doing another one of those IF writing activities. In this one, I have to cancel one aspect of my job, what would it be? Considering my woes as of late at my place of employ, my first instinct would be to yell SHOWING UP. But, to be serious, I'd say that we've lost sight of working with children. I spend most of my day planning and working when I'm supposed to be interacting with kids and making the smarter. Politcians whine and the world watches how we handle education giving it importance. They make unilateral decisions, regardless of who or how it effects the kids....and then everyone complains about how education is a mess. Yet, for all those whining, no one seems to want to go back in, get their hands dirty and see what is happening on the front lines. It reminds me of a President who decides to invade a soverign nation without thinking. He send in the troops, children of his people, without remorse. He then claims no...

Okay, okay, okay, at the coffeehouse again. And to encourage my friend to write, we're going to address the book "If" with our next available journaling. He never really writes for any reason for his own (I probably should follow his example!) and I'm just curious as to what he pens. This is our way of writing for another person. He's picked a topic which I'll list next and we'll both write responses. He, in his journal; myself, right here. "If you could have survived any historic disaster, which would it be?" Let's be realistic here. Not a whole lot phases me when it comes to fear. I mean, I've been reading Mr. King since sixth grade, I saw Halloween in elementary school. Yeah, sure, maybe it's helped me develop into psychopath into training, with tales of bloodletting I sometimes write, but it also has helped me develop a fairly tough skin when it comes to the scary stuff. I love watching my students talk about some horror movie li...

The first time I ever saw a real life corpse, I found the whole experience not-very-earth-shattering. I mean it was almost a bit anticlimactic. He just lay there. Sure, there was a small hiss coming from his chest and lips, but nothing beyond that. If I hadn't been told he was dead by the paramedics that arrived later, I probably would have written the whole experience off as a man in a very drunken stupor. But that wasn't the case. I had known the man, don't get me wrong and he was the kind of son of a bitch you get a vibe from when you first meet him. He's cute, sure, with short blonde hair and lanky, fit frame. The words roll off his lips like he practiced saying crap from the day he could utter the word "Ma, get me a beer." Our meetings were always impersonal. I just kept away from the dude. The first time I bumped into him, I, quite literally, bumped into him. I had balanced most of my things from the dorm on top a tray I had found in a gara...

It is here, Brother Montrose realized, having been absorbed by his thrice reading of the Timothy gospel. He had picked up the book and decided these passages would calm him the most while the ship pulled up to the dock. He looked to the men on the ship and turned to the fortress' portal. The portcullis had been brought from Macao and was not original. If had be built for this particular environment, it would not have stuck out at the lip of the brick and tile building. The arch doubled up near the trellis, giving the illusion of a maw readying a decent bite of food. The gangplank of the small boat was no more inviting. On the upper potion, waiting for him, were two samurai in full regalia. Father Hernandez had warned him that the men would be dressed to such an extent, but the Father's words did no justice to the showmanship. The reds and yellows of the Shogun's house and colors draped the ship and these two men sent to great him. Brother Montrose requested to greet the boa...

Okay, okay, remember when I used to this with my best friend and his blog? It must be a few years ago--when I first started publishing online back in 2004. Well, we used our own personal 'top tens' for books and movies. Television was never tackled. There's a reason for that. I hate television. And, for some reason, I love writing about things I hate, right? Not always. I didn't think that addressing my 'favorite' television shows would make sense. But my best friend persisted and I relented. So, yeah, I hate television. I see no possible reason to sit, passively infront of a box. Really. I'm terrible at relaxing, if you've not ever figured that one out. For me, if I'm going to sit down and do nothing, well, I better just go to sleep. Look at my vacations. I never go to Hawaii or Mexico, where the choices are limited to the beach and the beach---and nothing there by tanning. I go to the Disney parks, chock full of activity after activity. I like to t...