As a child I often said I wanted to be an astronaut. Big dreams for a small boy. My mother taught me to dream, my father, to fear. As an artist I've found a great afinity with being able to lie, a.k.a. create fiction. Here, I lie to you. :)
Audible... Should we call one?
As a young and inspired writer, I have really taken this writing thing to heart. Yes, it's what I do almost all the time, when I'm not working. I love to write, I love to create, I love to live in a world of fantasy and science fiction. I work hard to make original content, free from plagarism and infringement on other artists concepts and ideas.
Why NETFLIX will survive.
NETFLIX. A burdgeoning online streaming company with more subscribers than the population of most United States - STATES. MILLIONS we're talking. HUNDREDS of MILLIONS. With a small monthly fee, they exploded onto the streaming market, one of the first and I dare say, the largest, and many others followed suit to try their hand at such corporate feats.
The SIX Basic Rules of writing. Sounds professional doesn't it? RULE ONE; There are not a lot of good writers out and about. Get that thought out of your head right now. If you're looking for a way to make money, this is not it. Writing, is not about money, or fame. Oh sure, a few lucky ones have made it to the big time. Authors you know and love, people you can probably count on one or two hands. Since I'm fantascizing about this, I'll take a crack at it myself.
I Still Call Her Mother.
How did they know we would adapt so easily? Was it our affinity for cellular devices? Our constant need to stay connected? Our strong distaste for being alone, unless we were specifically seeking independence and solitude? Maybe it was a combination of all of those things.
Death by Butterscotch
I think most people can say, the fight to educate your children well enough, directly corresponds to their age, and the dangers that they encounter. For instance; You don't need to teach an infant things such as gun safety, driving skills, or how to safely handle a skinning knife. They just don't have the ability to put themselves in a dangerous situation that involves any of those things. Teaching them the dangers of things they might encounter though, is a twenty-four hour job. Non-stop.
They say War never Changes...
War... War never changes. Whether it be Ulysses S. Grant, or that guy from the Fallout video games saying it, it's an often used phrase that means something dark and dire, gritty... an idea of helplessness. If it never changes, then you can't change it. If you can't change it, what's the point in fighting it? Fighting back? Fighting at all?
Nikki's Song Pt. 2
I held the rail and dipped one foot in, testing what I already knew. My heart and mind struggled to understand. My memories conflicted with one another. Memories of a whale, memories of a human. Images of sea monsters and drawings I'd recently collected came to the forefront of my mind. No! No, no, no! My heart wrenched into a pulp. After two years of struggling to make this happen, and now... she was gone? Over some stupid drawings? I… I didn't think she was a monster! I could never think that!
Nikki's Song Pt. 3
A hand came up to Sophia's face, hesitant. Her fingers curled, as if she had to cover her mouth but couldn’t, and then, she screamed. It was a blood-curdling, ear-piercing, wail of recognition. She knew now, exactly what was going on. That she now had some sort of extra sensory ability she’d not been born with. Extra Sensory Perception. ESP. More than that, I knew… and she… she’d been the one thinking she was going crazy…
The more we advance, the more we regress. It's all about balance, and how to balance that balance. But what happens when we achieve the goal we set out for ourselves, only to defeat ourselves in the same process? Some say progress is the only way. Others would question the risk and why to even embark on such a risky venture. What am I talking about? I'm talking about technology, and what it means for the common every day man and woman, and our children, and their children, and their children's children.
The Byron Lane Forest Fire
I was about nine or ten when my friend and I, almost started a forest fire. Stupid kids, I know, but my friends were always getting me into all sorts of trouble. Did I get them into trouble as much as they got me into trouble? I think not. But, I was the outcast, the geek, the ultimate failure in my father's eyes. I was weak, feminie looking (I think so). I sported a bowl cut and wore velvet shirts and courderoy pants. Oh, they're comfortable for sure, but when everyone else is cool, I'm just drool. Hence, I was always looking for ways to be part of the gang.