Hello old friend.

Well, I couldn’t give it up for long. The writing but has bit me and she doesn’t let go easy. I have a new blog now called schematastrings (I have a bit of a thing for alliteration) it’s here on wordpress. It’s a little different from this blog however, it’s more reflections than anything else and much less nerdy.

Speaking on neediness I am in the process, now that I’m on winter break, of finishing the superhero profiles book I started some time ago. I hope to have it done by the end of the week and thank you so much for your patience.

And, Happy New Year.

Confessions, Rescheduling, and a Goodbye

Dian Rye is a pen name. He isn’t just a pen name however, as soon he became his own character who just happens to write and have a blog. Regardless, it isn’t a name I want to use anymore for writing because there is no need. Why should I have an online life that is different from my real one? My real name is Sydni Sobers. I’m not thirty, not male and don’t work at a pet shop. I’m a college kid. And a developing writer. 

The second thing is about that book I promised would be done by the end of this month. The Profiles book. Unfortunately, it will not be ready by then. The reason being that the computer I had been using most of the year decided to die and with it a lot of my articles and other things. This computer that I am typing on now is new and I will start the book anew. I will have a digital copy available that I will post a link to here. It will be a Pay As You Wish, meaning you pay as much as you think the book is worth. If you think it’s total bull and want it for free you can have it for free but if you think it’s amazing and one of the best superhero books ever then pay as much as you thing that is worth.

The last thing is I won’t be writing on this blog anymore. You’ve probably guessed this as I’ve been absent for months but I simply don’t have the time to do this and keep up with any college work I have to do. While it is still summer there are other projects that I’d like to do as well and managing a blog and writing a short story every week and keeping up with my art is just bit much. 

So with that I bit you adieu. 

Goodbye all and thank you.

Crash

You wake up, blind and frantic and twist and turn in the bed in what could be interpreted as a seizure. Finally, you struggle out of your covers, now laid to wayside on the floor and get up. You have errands to run, people to see and the day seems too short for your long to-do list.

You take a quick, cold shower and call to remind your building manager that he still hasn’t fixed the pluming to your apartment. You don’t eat breakfast, instead, you make bad coffee. It is watered down and it’s that brand you hate but it was cheap- on sale- and you didn’t have time to search for the good kind, and it sucks. It’s really bad coffee. 

Still, the coffee works and you’re out the door. The taxi driver ask where you’re going and you say as always that ‘Big obnoxious building down by the square’. The driver chuckles as always and you give a half-hearted smirk. Something’s different about today. You can feel it. Maybe it was the coffee but something’s off. The driver starts going and your are still busy thinking about everything that could have put this day off. 

Maybe it was his boss’s new tie he wore yesterday. It had an odd color to it, some badly died shade of crimson that managed to look gaudy and wash-out simultaneously. Perhaps it was your date with Lorna. She seemed a bit preoccupied… she had barely eaten you think. But then again, you were too busy looking at your phone to really notice. Although the steak you ordered was a bit under-cooked… 

Your phone buzzes and you flip it open to a frantic text from your boss who tells you that sales are down by 15%, and you need to come here right now so that you can help fix it and what was the status for the store on Miller street and there’s and opening up in Hager’s Town that you need to go to and –

You look up just in time to see the truck driver’s wide eyes, as his truck crashes, straight into the side of the taxi. 

Then, nothing.

Consumer vs. Creator

I have a pile of folders in which I keep my writing ideas. Over the years it’s become quite full and I haven’t gone through but one or two of those ideas I once cherished. 

I like the internet. On it I can learn anything and communicate with anyone; but I find that most of my time on it is spent watching mini-documentaries, or reading yet another article on some start-up in Silicon Valley. TV is great as well but with it’s endless amount of channels I spend what should have been a half hour mindlessly watching my fifth cop-drama unfold on screen while knowing that it was always that awkward guy in the corner who did it. 

The point is this. While the internet and TV are wonderful things they don’t necessarily lead to any growth, to any creativity. Instead you are invited to sit down and passively enjoy what it offers clinking on link after link, video after video, movie after movie. In the meantime, you aren’t creating anything. You are absorbing. You are taking in knowledge or ideas, and they are being stored up in the attic of your mind where they will never really be used. 

Remember that pile of folders I told you about? For the next month or so I will preform my own minimalism experiment. I won’t be trowing away any of my clothes, tossing out my worldly possessions or anything like that but I will be recycling. Everyday I will exhaust one of my ideas in those folders. Effectively, I will be limiting my time spent on the TV and on the computer through doing this because I will be too busy writing.

I’ll be too busy creating to consume.


If any of you other bloggers, writers, or artist would like to do this with me please comment below. 

With Her

The stormy weather returned and with the booming thunder and splattered rain she appeared. Her entrance was always grand but it never paled her. She arrived at his door in a red petticoat and white leather gloves and bathed in an invisible glory and seductive presence that only a women could wear. She wore it well. She said she just came by for a night or two though her monstrous suitcase said otherwise. She only smirked when he asked about it and said she had the habit of over-packing. He knew you couldn’t over-pack a weeks worth of clothes.

They would have tea together in the yard. Large blankets laid across the short spring grass that just sprung up to say ‘hello’. Tiny teacups with Gypsum, and  Earl Grey, Green for the afternoon, and Ginger when the sun just rose, clinked and chimed with the conversation and mirrored their laughter. She had an infectious laugh, high and unabashed he could hear it from the other room. He ‘let’ her stay for a while, more then the few weeks for which she had packed so eventually she had to go and buy some new ones. He paid for them all of course after her halfhearted attempts to stop him. They both knew she had to money and she would look for a job soon enough.

She found one at the dentist office as a receptionist. She was always good with people and even managed to calm one boy down who was furiously crying over a cavity yet to be filled. She charmed everyone with her imperfect smile; slightly gap-toothed but all still pearly white. Her co-workers loved her and he would go to pick her up to the dentist asking if she could stay another hour or two ‘you see there’s these two kids that need fillings and’.

She was a doll. His doll. Everyone’s doll. And she was dead. 

Muddled

I’m a little sick today.
My head is muddled.
It’s sinus pressure they say-
They talk too much.

Perhaps I’ll be able to write poetry.
Poetry only makes sense when I’m sick.
My head is too slow for words;
Expressions will do just fine.

The Folly’s of Our Kind

I can’t tell you what my favorite book is. Nor can I tell you my favorite book from any genre either. 

What I can tell you is what book, to me, summarizes humanity. 

It’s a very well-known book and often regarded as a classic and for good reason for it is indeed a masterpiece. It is sad but romantic and the writing style gives the story both charm and beauty.

It is the Great Gatsby. 

While this book is set in the 1920’s and so may be a bit dated it still feels very fresh and relevant to me. It may be because of the vivid descriptions or because I have a good imagination but I can always see those very same characters as they play out their lives. Also, Fitzgerald was able to capture how humans are trapped by memory. Even people who rarely have time to think will occasionally find themselves wondering what their life would have been like if they had done this… or that… or both. In Gatsby’s case, even a man who intends to distract himself from thinking will still end up wondering the same things. What if we hadn’t made that mistake? Would it make any difference? Would she even care? All of us want to correct our wrongs. This book also convey’s how we all want to be time travelers. While it may be physically impossible for humans to actually travel to the past we all have times in our lives where we find ourselves traveling back to a fond memory. Or, one that isn’t so fond at all. Memory haunts and delights us. It is our eternal cage and for an introvert like me one that I can’t escape easily. 

Gatsby is an idealist. He has the heart of a young boy inside the body of a man. He wants the world and seeks to attain it. He wants Daisy without even thinking for a moment that she belonged to someone else. He always thought she still loved him. That that love would be enough. While the degree is varied many humans are like that. We wish for the unattainable and when we find that it is lost to us… well, it’s hard to pick ourselves back up. Humans are fragile creatures after all. We’d rather ignore our problems and faults then deal with them. 

Dealing with them is too painful. Too harsh. 

And they are “careless people…smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness… and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

Aren’t we all like that?

 


 

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