"Living With Pits"

       As I was tied up in bed yesterday due to a nasty stomach bug, one of my dogs wouldn't leave my side. Granted, she never leaves my side, but it was nice to know she was worried about me. I think she enjoyed a lazy day in bed cuddling next to me. However, as I sat there trying to calm the tempest brewing inside my stomach, there's one thought that stayed on my mind. I was lying next to a "vicious" breed, and all she did was lick my face now and then when her 60lb frame wasn't pressed against me. So, today, with my stomach feeling somewhat better, I figured I would write a short history about my experiences with pitbulls.

      When I was growing up, I used to fear this breed. I listened to all the reports, and never gave them a chance. I always thought they would bite me the instant I tried to pet one. However, over time, my view about them changed. It took a few encounters with certain dogs being a big sweetheart that opened my eyes. Little did I know that one day, I would be a proud owner of three of them.

The first pitty I own is a lab/pit mix named Dixie:

My wife called me concerning one of the two dogs that one of her aunts was trying to find a home for. We were told it was a six month old, female, Lab / Mastiff mix. I agreed to take it in since I heard lab, and also since the other one was a Chihuahua, there was no thinking about which one to adopted.

      After a few months with her living with us, we knew she wasn't Mastiff since she barely grew at all, but got stockier. We had a feeling she was part pitbull, but didn't matter once we knew it was true. Besides barking at everything, she's a very loving, but jealous dog. You can't pet any other dog without her pushing them out of the way. Despite her quirks, she's the first pitty I ever loved, and the one that made me see it's not the breed.

      Two years later, we help raise a litter of pitbulls, and end up keeping an all-white female we named Moloko:

 She's the first full-blooded pitbull that I ever lived with. She's also the first puppy I raised, and she taught me why I never want kids: the endless sleepless nights and the constant picking up of poop. However, as she grew up, she turned out all right. She's the kind of dog that will lick your face off before even think of biting you

      She also taught me why getting dogs spayed is so critical. We had a few offers to sell / breed her when she wasn't even a year old. We got her fixed as soon as we could because we didn't want to deal with puppies ever again, and a few months later, we learned how many pitties already need a good home. Our local shelter was offering free spaying / neutering for pitbulls two months after we had her fixed, and offering free adoptions. We were upset that we could have saved money, but I was glad we did. I didn't want to think about where she or her puppies could have ended up.

      Now, less than a week ago, we did our first true rescue of a pitty. My wife saw a picture of a 3 and a half year-old female pitbull scheduled to be put down at the beginning of October. We went down the next day, and adopted Lily:

       She's a great dog, and so far, is getting along with the other two, plus our three cats. The only downside is she's my shadow. I can't go anywhere without her following me, even into the shower.

      Overall, the point I'm trying to make is don't judge a breed, but look at the owner. We didn't get these dogs to make them the mindless killing machines they can be portrayed as. We got them because they're awesome dogs. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, and wish I knew how cool this breed truly is a long time ago. The most dangerous thing about the breed is how bad their farts are. They can peel paint, and you never hear them. My final thought is this: If you want a pitbull or any bully breed, go to your local shelter first. I will never pay some "breeder" $1,000+ for a dog when there's plenty of them looking for a good, loving home.

"Where Is My Mind?"

            Lately, a few people either asked me why do I write, or encourage me to share about my experiences as a writer. So, while cranking this fitting song, I begin to think about when I really put pen to paper, and what kept me wordsmithing till I wrote two full novels. I also begin to think about my future, and where I hope all this typing will take me one day. So, with fair warning, you're about to explore the mind of a crazy man: me.

            As I look back at childhood, I guess I was doomed to put my overactive imagination onto paper. Even as young boy, I would create worlds in my head. I always pictured myself as someone else living in different places. I remember drawing out crude settings onto paper, and picturing myself as one of the characters.

            As time went on, I quit daydreaming as much. I tried to write a fantasy story back in the early 90's, but got discouraged by my siblings. I told my ideas, and they criticized every single one. I realize that siblings will do it, but for some reason, I quit daydreaming, and stopped trying to write.

            I didn't get back into writing seriously till about 2006, or maybe 2007.  I dabbled in poetry a lot during high school, but no stories of any kind unless it was for class. I started a few novel ideas, but never got further than a few pages. I couldn't break that first chapter barrier, and caved-in. So, I stuck to poetry since they aren't as challenge as weaving a reality across 75,000+ words

My first novel (shameless plug link) got started out of boredom. I was sitting at my PC cranking Yellowcard's "Ocean Avenue", and began to write about how eerily silent the neighborhood was considering I was living in South Florida.

            Those first few pages that night finally got me past the chapter 1 barrier a few weeks later, but if I ever posted them, it would be a totally different novel. I learned so much about writing editing that first chapter like ten times. The biggest thing was censoring all the vulgar language. Also, I originally made the main character a giant of a man, which really wouldn't fit the theme the next few chapters began guiding the story.

            As I finished chapter 3, life got so hectic, it was hard to focus on anything with the story. To make matters worse, my childhood imagination started coming back. I began writing so many different novels at once that I was losing focus. I couldn't stay on course to finish one novel. The more chaotic life was getting, the more I lost track of all thoughts.

            The fall of 2008, I ended up leaving South Florida for good. I settled in Ocala, and knocked out the rough of my first novel. In less than two years, I went from chapter 4 to the very last sentence. It seems moving away from the hustle and bustle of a major metropolitan area to a small city allowed me to focus more. I even rewrote the first four chapters a bit to make the plot flow way better. I also finally figured out that I could make the commitment to write a full novel if in the right environment.

            Now, fast forward to today. I'm happy that got one novel on Amazon, and another one in the editing phase. However, I'm back in a major slump. I finished the second novel rough draft back in February, and I'm barely through chapter 1 of the third one. It seems major changes in work and life makes me lose that childhood imagination, and replace it with the bitter adult pill known as stress. The good news is the spark is coming back. I hope to finish two chapters by October.

            I'm going to end this with a few tips I've learned over my years of writing. Here they are in no particular order:

1) If you're having issues focusing, disconnect from the internet. I've wasted hours on Youtube instead of writing.

2) If this is your first attempt at crafting at a novel, I say finish the rough first before worrying about covers, agents, publishers, etc, etc. The more things you stress over before even putting words into the file mean you'll never finish the story.

3) I've been tinkering with PC's for 20 years now, and this is the honest truth: It's imagination that makes one a writer, not the technology they own. As long as it can open and modify Word files, you got enough technology. In fact, here are my guidelines about writing technology.

4) Music is the one thing I can't live without when typing. I always find it best to find a CD or song that fits the mood and theme.

5) Spellchecker is not a true editor.  Hire one if you really serious about getting your novel printed.

6) Pencil and paper are still the best way to hash out roughs. I wrote pages on paper when I was struggling at the keyboard.

7) Social Media, as I've learned, is a great way to meet more authors. Most of my Twitter account is fellow writers.

8) Do not spam over social media. Yes, we're proud you finished a novel, but no, we don't need to see the link every five minutes.

9) Write sober. I refused to get in the mindset I can only write when I'm under the influence.

10) Overall, the main thing is to never lose the enjoyment of creating your own universe to share with other people.

Until next time, keep on writing.

           

"Winds of Change"

Life is not all smiles;
Filled with sunshine.
So many damn miles
Are faced with denial.

    This is what I began writing this morning. As I look at it, I realize I'm painting a portrait of a depressing life. Yeah, my life is nowhere near where I imagined it while I was still in high school. Do I regret some of the decisions I made since I graduated? Yes. Then again, hindsight is 20/20, but looking in the past will blind you from the future unfolding right in front of you because hiding in the shadows of your past will never let you see life unfurling in the light of destiny.

    Sadly, I keep hiding in this darkness of regret and fear. I keep coming up with so many excuses that I'm creating a wall of doubt instead of building bridges to move forward, and achieve any dream I still cling onto within my heart. The more I dwell on where I am, the more I realize I'm letting my biggest worry consume my life. What I need to do is swallow my pride, and expose my soul to chaotic uncertainty. To make that leap of faith into the life I seek, not hold on to the stable ground anxiety has me clinging onto for
dear life.

    In the end, only I can make changes to find the path that will lead to eternal happiness. Life is about what I make it to be, and until I accept this, it will stay the mundane experience it is so far. I have to quit being afraid to switch things up. In other words, when you find that life is getting boring, face the tempest of chaos to escape the drought of humdrum you created. The winds of change to bring the rains of hope will never reach your spirit until you tear down the walls created by fears and doubts.

"The Jungle"

A jungle made from concrete

Sweltering in the summer heat.

Another damn sleepless night.

There is not any relief in sight.

Warm beer on the fire escape,

I curse myself for being awake.

My last joint I begin to smoke

As slumber attempts are a joke.

The morning sun begins to rise

It is irritating my insomniac eyes.

Can hear the city begin to awake.

As I sit there completely baked.

I look down at the flood of suits.

Ties they wear are a fancy noose.

To suckle from the CEO's udder

Buried by the greed-filled blubber.

Their souls fueling the profit's fire,

An empty shell when they do retire.

Broken dreams filling their wallets,

And not a dime inside their pockets.

They work to live, and live to work

While their slave drivers only smirk.

Were meant to live for much more.

To be free; not a corporate whore.