Archive for the ‘ Writing ’ Category

Egocracy of Eloquence

I am a(n) (ego-)driven guy.

Sounds familiar. Most males are, well males from western cultures are anyway. I personally think thats it’s a combination of nature and nurture. And the fact that testosterone does odd things to us. Of course so does the individualistic society into which we are indoctrinated, so sorry: enculturated.

My personal experience with nurture being that of a community of special forces alpha-dogs probably didn’t help: they tend to believe that spec-ops guys are the supreme creation of the universe and each one of them thinks he’s better than all the rest.

Growing up within such a tight knit, if slightly insane, group at a series of Fort Wherever’s brought a whole new meaning to the ‘my dad can beat up your dad’ spiel, it did however encourage the growth of my vocabulary and it definitely built a lot of self-confidence, I’ll give it that.

All argument aside: I know that I can be arrogant, I know that I have a healthy ego, albeit one that can get away from me; especially when we’re talking about one of the ten or twelve things that I do best. Its never really about the idea that I’m better than the person I happen to be speaking to; I get genuinely excited about things I’m good at and I tend not to realize when I’m being arrogant about something that comes very easily to me and that others have to work at. Which, unfortunately means I come off rather badly at times.

There are remedies, or so I’ve been led to believe. You may remember that there was a fairy tale princess that needed some rescuing; as it turns out, she does a bit of rescuing herself, ya know-on the side. The moral of that fable being this: I’ve been courting this theory of modesty lately and I’ve got to say it’s a been (and will continue to be) a difficult transition: I feel incredibly self-conscious when I try to be modest, like I’ve got this really expensive new jacket on and it looks really great but everyone knows that the coat just isn’t mine.

For the first time in my life I am actually much more concerned with how someone else feels about me, than I am about how I feel about me.

I’m sure I’ll get used to it. It is, of course (what isn’t?), a process. At any rate I’m sure that my new humble sport jacket is just the right thing to wear to all this summer’s ritzy events.

I enjoy metaphor. Clearly.

Speaking of, chapter eighteen is coming along well/well it’s coming along*.


This is one of those awesome posts that I’ve cut into pieces over the course of a couple of days. I find that my favorite thing about my wordpress app is *save draft. It assuredly gives me the freedom to gain some perspective without losing the moment. I appreciate that greatly.

Normally I’d say keep it real here, but I think that its time to retire that particular valediction. And while normally I’d express utter disbelief if someone were unaware that the polite bits that bookend a letter are a salutation and valediction, today in honor of my attempt at leaf-turning I’ll merely allude to the fact that I could have.

Today I believe that I’ll simply say:
❤ ry

(Someone help me figure out something fun/cool/super-arrogant-sounding-but-not-belittling to say after my posts, merci.)



I write. Sometimes beautiful things, words placed so evidently eloquently, whispering sweet nothings in your mind; in my voice. Words that barely convey the lyrics in my heart but filtered as they are through two they become one with a love that is all-encompassing and infinite and yet somehow still contained by this finite, earthly shell.

I write. Sometimes with a quickening sadness; bitter experience flowing down the page like water, like an avalanche of pain running down a mountain: each successive word becoming a phrase to frame a refrain of sanity-saving verses; to flush out of hiding those (personal) demons that hunt for my soul in the dark recesses of my mind.

I write. I write words that make emotions apparent, transparent, so very clear and open. Sometimes I find redemption in words, sometimes I find that I atone for every action wrought from anger or pain that I’ve ever thought of or placed upon this world.

I write. I write because I enjoy placing words in front, in back, around and inside of other words to form ideas; to hopefully make some sense of me. Conceptually I enjoy the exercise of sentences, paragraphs and sections; chapters, books, chronicles; series becoming stories becoming (his)story.

I write. Not only do I write because I love to play with language(s): I write because inside of me is a driving force, a primal need; something shimmering-stirring (is it darkness or is it light) that aches to break free the bonds of my mind to speak to the world.

I write. I write, simply because I must.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry


The new Hollywood Undead album American Tragedy is pretty sweet. Of course I’ve grown up listening to that curious amalgamate that is rap-metal. In other news I’ve always thought that they could have come up with a better name than that.

Hmmm maybe like rapetal, or maybe metap hahaha whatever they call it I still rather enjoy it. Perhaps because I can’t really sing either and it allows me to keep a career as a rapetal artist on my list.

Yes, I am writing about the most mundane things I can think of. No, I’m not avoiding anything. Where are these questions coming from?

Anyway I’m thinking of shaving off my douchey beard. Almost every author has a sweet beard in his bio-pic on the inside back cover of the dust jacket. However, my irishness does not allow me to grow an awesome beard.

There, something I’m not awesome at: facial hair fail.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry

Prolific and Gifted

I rather enjoy that title, it’s actually a Method Man quote. I do love me some Wu.

Well, Public Enemies was a little more dramatic than it needed to be, and I’m still a little annoyed at the g-men who shot Dillinger in the back. I mean seriously, what a bunch of giant pansies. Can you say premeditated? I wish I’d been alive and a lawyer back then because that was a serious breach of both Dillinger’s civil rights and an example of the very loose interpretation our Government has of the social contract. Just sayin.

Ah on to other things, today I think I may run until exhaustion fells me in my footsteps. It is a glorious part of the human condition (at least for me) that when I’m physically exhausted, my brain does not function. It’s part of why the military runs you so hard in bootcamp: break down the old so they can build up the new.

I rather like that idea. I’m not a fan of the old me and I enjoy the idea of building something glorious from the broken moldings and strewn bricks he has left me to create a foundation with.

I also still feel incredibly pretentious referring to myself in the third person.

I wish many things. But I’ll share this one: I wish I wrote novels as fast as blog posts.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry

Righting, wrighting…Writing!

Today was pretty good: work went super quickly and was, as always, pretty fun.

In other news:
Rocked a personal best 5k and mile today, and it was my third mile so somebody has his first ever negative split. I know, I know; the hell you say. The hell I do.

Really need to motivate myself to write some more today, I almost think I’m avoiding it because I know today is going to be very hard on some of my characters and if you know me you know that my creations are very real in my mind and I will legitimately feel bad about what I’m going to put them through.

Yeah I know.

Anyway, I’ve got some breathing room since I get to write on my own schedule, of course I’m also driving myself to finish this one so I can write the next one. I’ve got stories literally bursting out of my mind. They scream for release and demand my attention when I try to think of nothing.

Keep it real kids,
❤ ry