Acceptance.

Not everything is meant to work out. Not every company that you work for, friendship that you start, or living situation that you enter is supposed to last. Nothing is guaranteed in life. Nothing. If we are lucky, truly lucky, these things that we imagine are permanent will last for a few decades. Some people remain at the same company for 50 years and have just as long marriages. But, in the end, death or other circumstances will eventually end that, too.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing. I have had to walk away from toxic jobs, relationships, and even friendships in an act of self-preseveration. I even moved halfway across the country when work completely dried up in the state where I spent most of my life. Doors close and open; and if we are truly fortunate, we know why. Because, let's be honest, sometimes even hindsight isn't 20/20.

It's been an interesting month for me. I spent the first half of it homeless. I won't go into details, but there was a lot of spontaneous couch surfing and last minute moving. Even where I'm at now isn't a permanent situation, but I accept it for what it is. Change has happened daily and often with little to no warning. Doors opening and closing with almost neck-breaking velocity. And through all the turmoil I have begun to accept that I don't necessarily have to know the "why" things are going the way they are and just accept that change and death are the two only fixtures in life.  I'm not going to lie- I've been undergoing a very strong bout of depression all month. Self-doubt, immense anger, and bitterness have clouded my head for much of this month. I have been cutting myself off from people by choice because I know that I have not been the best to be around. There's been times when I just couldn't handle being around the human race, so I walked away. No warning, no explanation, just left. And I came back when I was in a better head space.

There has been some good things that have come from this. I know who my friends are now and just the extent of how much they love me. I'm probably the closest to my mom than I've been in a long time. It's one thing to suspect who has your back and a whole other thing when they follow through-even when, in the beginning, they found out through the word of mouth of others. My "safety net" (if you will) is strong. Much stronger than I ever would have expected. And the love and support I have received from them has brought me to tears more than once this month. I have felt so alone and they have undeniably proven that I'm not. Which was something I desperately needed to have affirmed. It is also looking like there's a strong change that I'm going to become a custodian for one of the local schools. Hardly glamorous, but the pay is almost $2 more an hour than I have ever made and the benefits are spectacular. It's also a Monday through Friday job. No more uncertainty for my schedule. Which will also give me the freedom to write-which is something I've waited years for.

If I get the custodian position, it means that I'm walking away from 15 years in the customer service and sales field. I'm walking away from the one solid profession I have held since my senior year in high school. That...has been a hard pill to swallow. I'm damn good at what I do, but I've reached a point where I'm pretty much un-hireable if I continue down this path. I don't have a college education or a tech background and I've reached a point where my experience is pretty much pointless because of this. So I'm walking away from a decade and a half of my life and accepting defeat. To know that, no matter where I apply, the positions I apply for, I'm "unworthy" of what their looking for in a candidate has been hard. This door is finally closing, and it may be closing for good.

On the flip-side, it also makes me realize that, if I were to continue to pursue, and receive, these sales positions, then I will never become published. The life of a salesman is constantly changing and schedules are in constant fluctuation. You are on the constant hunt for the bottom dollar. And, work-life balance? If you're lucky, you can land a job with semi-regular hours that will give you the illusion of this. If I become a custodian, I will finally gain that freedom in my life and still receive a nice paycheck to boot. I can finally, actually, become the writer (and author) I've always imagined I could become. I can finally buckle down and complete NaNoWriMo. I can finally see my name in print; which is something that hasn't happened since high school. I can finally create the worlds and breathe into life characters once again. And I can finally start doing what I was put on this Earth to do.

This month has been painful. This year has been full of chaos. I have been filled with uncertainty and doubt for most of this period. But no storm is permanent. Not all pain is perpetual. If there has been one thing that this month has re-taught me is that to accept that the illusion of control we assume we have, we really don't. Things change, people chance, circumstances change. Even pain is an agent of change. So, I end this post with a quote: "If you're going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill.

A Life Less Ordinary

I taught myself conversational Vietnamese one afternoon because I was bored. True story. I was working at a book store in North Bend and it was a pretty dead day. There was a a small Vietnamese phrase book that covered things like ordering food, asking where the bathroom was, etc. It had the Vietnamese words, then how to pronounce them, and the English translation. It took me about a half hour to completely master it. I also know a smattering of French, my German is rusty (but warms up with ample practice), and I should really get around to learning Spanish. That's the first thing you should know about me.

I've dabbled in quantum and astrophysics. When I was in high school, I deduced that actual time travel would never occur on Earth because of the constant gravitational pull slowing down the process. Using Newton's Three Laws of Motion, I figured out that one would have to be in deep space, void of any possible gravitational interruptions for it to be truly possible. But, humans will never achieve it and live, due the fact that it would require the force, speed, and subsequent heat of that of a nuclear explosion. Later on, in my early twenties, I discovered the book On The Shoulders of Giants by Stephen Hawking and it became my instant favorite book. It still is up there on my list. I highly recommend you check it out. It's a fascinating read. That's the second thing you should know about me.

I saw my dad die when I was 23. It still is the most traumatic and life changing event that has happened. He had an asthma attack and died before the paramedics even reached the house. It had only taken them 15 minutes to get there, but it was already too late. I learned that night just how quickly and suddenly life ends. And most of the time, without warning. I've battled crippling depression and insomnia ever since. That's the third thing you should know about me.

I took care of my grandparents (his parents) during my mid-twenties. I was working full time, made a stab at college, and lived and took care of them all at the same time.  Grandma had full on dementia and Grandpa was a diabetic who took terrible care of himself. Towards the end of her life, he was the only one that she even recognized and she passed away in a care center five years after my dad died. Grandpa's heath took a understandable turn for the worst and he wound up getting thyroid cancer. He passed away five years after she did and I was in Texas at the time. One of my biggest regrets was that I was not there with him at the end. That's the fourth thing you should know about me.

I up and moved to Texas at the beginning of 2012. I had been pretty much unemployed all of 2011 and it wasn't looking like the economy in Washington was going to improve in the foreseeable future; so I just moved. Packed up and left. My sister lives down there, so I stayed with her for a bit. Within three months, I was working at a bank and building myself a nice little career. Adjusting, as best as I could, considering how different the two places are. But it wasn't long after I moved down there that I started feeling the pangs of home sickness. It gradually grew stronger and stronger until I was absolutely miserable being down there. Despite how improved my life had become, I missed home. And when my grandfather passed away and I was half a continent away, that was the final straw for me. So, at the end of 2013, I moved back. I do miss Texas and Washington isn't the home it used to be, but I wouldn't trade either experience for the world. That's the fifth thing you should know about me.

I'm a salesman by vocation. I've been doing it since immediately out of high school and I continue to do it to this day. I've sold everything from Cutco knives to financial services. From books to Proactiv. It works well with my jack-of-all-trades mentality. Also, as most salespeople are, I'm a very impatient person. More correctly, I'm patient when I need to be, but even that wanes if gone on too long. I'm also admittedly charismatic and have no problem talking to strangers. However, if you ever see me at a party, I'm always watching people first. Observing. Analyzing their every move and word. That's the sixth thing you should know about me.

I may be a salesman by vocation, but I was born a storyteller. In elementary school, I had a couple teachers tell me how impressed they were with my writing skills. In junior high, I wrote a story that got an award with the local Kuwanis. In high school, I was on the newspaper for two years. I've had three blogs (four, if you count the one on LinkedIn), a Twitter account with a few celebrity followers, and a couple dozen (at least) poems. But the real goal is to be a novelist. That's always been my dream. That's the seventh thing you should know about me.

There's other facts, like that I'm left-handed, travel as frequently as possible, enjoy history immensely, love old movies (some of the best movies ever made were in black and white), love classical music, love books, etc. But, those things and more are things that I would much rather you learn as you get to know me. All this post was was a small window into my world.

Flash Fiction Experiment #1

So of the best writers out there all have the same advice when it comes to writing: Just do it. Hemingway took it a step further and said "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." Which leads me to this very moment: an experiment. They say that a 1,000 monkeys could bang out the works of Shakespeare, given enough time. This experiment is going to be a bit shorter than that. Just me, a whole lot of insomnia induced sleep exhaustion, some random music (I think I'll go with some chillstep to give it a cool vibe), and zero clue as to what I'm about to write. So, without further ado, here goes:

Bret Sanders sat at the bar, watching the room. Couples were laughing, one guy was trying way too hard to impressed the clearly uninterested blind date he had found on the Internet the previous night, and there was a girl in the corner reading the latest John Grisham novel and sipping on a dirty martini. Do people still drink those? he pondered as he continued to trace the room with a growing bit of uneasiness in his gut. 

His contact was late. His contact was never late and tonight he was precisely five minutes and thirty-seven seconds late. The second hand on his Rolex ever kept ticking forward, despite its owner's growing annoyance and apprehension. He normally did these jobs sober, but if his contact was going to continue to delay him, he may have to buckle and at least order a beer. After all, the bartender was already cocking an eyebrow at him for sipping on his ice water. No need to draw any attention to himself if he didn't have to. Nothing good could ever come from being remembered. 

A shrill, tinny pseudo-orchestra erupted next to him and the woman sitting next to him quickly snapped up her phone, making that annoying tone cease. The bartender shot her a look and he took the brief opportunity to examine the beers on tap. Coor's. Budweiser. Sam Adams. All standard fare. His eyes found Guinness and he gestured to the bartender for a pint. The man grunted and filled his order. That's okay. I"m not here to make friends. The sooner she gets here, the sooner I can get out of this sorry excuse for a watering hole. 

His burner cell buzzed once again his hip. He flipped it open and the text message contained one word: Made. Suddenly the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees and his eyes scoured each face and body movement. No red flags. He turned to the bartender and shot him a look. He returned it with utmost surprise, and, before he could respond further, a bullet took a subsonic path from one temple through the other. The woman with the rancid ringtone screamed as he dropped to the floor. She almost immediately joined him, with a matching mortal wound where her right eye should have been. He glanced over and saw Book Girl was not where she was sitting. Even amiss the now chaos of people fleeing for their lives, he could see she was not among them.

Knowing if he remained there a second longer, he would also wind up a chalk outline, he rolled out from his position and under the nearest table. Glass shattered above him from a high powered projectile. He reached behind his back and dislodged the 9mm that he had taped to his back earlier that night. The shooter, whoever it was, had to be in the room, somewhere. And since the guy took out two innocents almost immediately, he must be close. Before he had a chance to peek out and assess the situation, there was more gunfire, but this time to is right. 

Shots were now being exchanged above his head. If he didn't act now, he would only have himself to blame for his own demise. He kicked out the chair in front of him and it struck a running target. Whoever it was collapsed after taking two rounds from two different shooters. He aimed his Glock at the now revealed shooter at the far end of bar. His first shot hit the bar and the second hit his target in the gut. He fired off a third and fourth, which struck his target in the chest, emitting a stray of red.

A hand above him knocked the table out from above him and he saw Book Girl pointing an identical Glock at him. "Don't shoot! You've been made!" 

"Who are you?!" He shouted at her, still pointing his pistol at her chest. 

"I'm the one who just saved your ass. Go take a look at who you just shot. That was your contact. You've been made, and if you don't get out now, you'll have the same fate as your bartender friend."