Friday, April 22, 2016

Quickening Fairy

I love the long-winded eloquence of books sometimes, fiction or not. It’s like I can organize my own musings in some kind of sensible string.

The key word in those last two sentences is “sometimes”. There comes a time when you need an obvious proverb. An Aesop’s fable. Even a parable from Jesus! Just something quick and short and on-the-nose like that. The world needs more of that, don’t you think?

Why, for example, can’t there be a short explanation for the meaning of life that sums up good and satisfies (like a Snickers bar)? The long explanations go ‘round and ‘round, examining all the angles, but I’m not sure they settle anywhere. I don’t even know what I read in some of those situations.

Perhaps one day.


What do you think is the balancing point between artful weaving and getting to the point?

Also, what should I do with my life next semester? I’ve put off registering for classes too long for my own happiness. They need to be diverse enough to help me be a well-rounded writer, but related enough for me to actually finish school one day.

That, my reader, is a point I wish I could reach already, instead of the back-and-forth of decisions and consequences.

Anyone want to wave a wand and make my mind up for me? That would be great.  


Friday, April 15, 2016

Hopeful Fairy

wonder if big authors ever buy their own books once they are in print. I wonder if they sit with a cookie and a coffee and savor the story like I do. One day, when I am published, I am going to have a book club. In that club, we will read my books and stories by other writers, published or not. Because wouldn’t it be nice for others to see that a famous published author is still human and still reads and still doesn’t understand every metaphor in every story?

You know, dear reader, a club like that might be necessary now, after what I saw a few evenings ago.

It was entirely too good outside for me to stay in. So, like one of the characters I have been playing around with in my head, I made the bold choice to go outside and just meet somebody. As luck would have it, Danika had her door open to clear the air from her failed pie. I know this because she got the jump on me and called me in.

Before it really settled that I was in a stranger’s house (albeit a very friendly stranger), she had me batting the air with a dish towel and spilling the usual meeting-a-new-person facts about myself. And then Tyrone came in. And Chandler and Kelly and Spectra (that is really her name) and Amy and….

It was a dinner party. And it was...amazing. I like people and all, but I like them more when they are fictional. That evening made me think that maybe, possibly, I should get out just a little more.

But what I saw that spurred this post: Danika, the life of the party, even in spite of her lackluster baking efforts, got a moment alone to start cleaning up dishes (she is the perfect hostess and would NOT allow guests to do anything but enjoy themselves). Her face was different, though. The energy was gone (and I know it wasn’t the dishes that took it). She is probably only a couple of years older than me, but she looked like a lifetime of struggle had etched itself into her face and shoulders.

For whatever reason, one of her random comments from when she burned the pie came to me: “Gaah, I never, ever get this right.”

It seemed normal enough. I’m sure I said something affirming in reply. But I wonder now how long she’s been struggling to get that pie right, looking at the perfect picture and missing each time. I wonder what else she is struggling to do. Or be.

I bet that hers would be one of the more interesting stories in my book club. Maybe it would even be her break into act two of her life, where things finally start to change for her. Especially when she sees that she’s not the only struggler.  


Friday, April 8, 2016

Mr. Canezzle is a Magical Hobo

Once again, I find myself with no time this week to write. I felt that with this being the case, I would post another story from my childhood for you to enjoy.

A Prequel To "Mr. Canezzle is a Teacher" By Lily Schreiber

Mr. Canezzle The Magical Hobo was on his typical corner performing tricks and illusions for the people on the sidewalk. 

“Is that not such a good name?” Mr. Canezzle thought. “Sidewalk, it’s a place where you can WALK beside all the buildings. So why did everyone seem to be running today?” 

But just as soon as he asked, the answer hit him…literally. A newspaper came flying out of nowhere straight into Mr. Canezzle’s face, making Mr. Canezzle drop his rabbit he had just pulled out of his hat. The rabbit hit the ground and took his chance; he ran to freedom! However, when he reached the road and saw the danger that laid ahead, he quickly moved back to his hat. In which he decided that captivity was not all that bad. 

But now back to Mr. Canezzle. The headlines of the newspaper that hit Mr. Canezzle said “Cat Saves Man Stuck In Tree.” 

“Aha!” Mr. Canezzle said “They're all late for work because they had to stop to read this article. That’s why they are running.”

Now this answer seemed logical to Mr. Canezzle, and it could be the reason everyone was running…but probably not for right below the headline “Cat Saves Man Stuck In Tree” were the words “Day Light Savings Time” And that was really why everyone was running. They all (except for the bosses) had forgotten to reset their clocks and now were almost an HOUR late for work!

Back to Mr. Canezzle who is completely still, in a trance of some sort...but what could have created this trance? Could it be the giant spinning hypnotizing wheel on the other side of the road? Or maybe the man waving his pocket watch back and forth, back and forth? No, it was none of these things, indeed, the “Cat Saves Man Stuck In Tree” headline head caught his attention and he was now intently reading the newspaper. He was so caught up in the newspaper that he failed to notes Mr. Smith, the high school English teacher, who came flying by him at a full flag run into “Radio Show”, a rip off of “Radio Shack”. However, as soon as Mr. Smith, the high school English teacher, entered “Radio Show” an alarm went off saying he had won a prize for being the one-hundredth person to enter “Radio Show.” You see “Radio Show” did not get much business on the account that “Radio Shack” was just across the street, and most people went to it.

To fully understand what happened next, you must know a little bit about this town Mr. Canezzle was in. So this town had only one hospital, The Mount Everest hospital, or Mount Everest as the locals called it. Now The Mount Everest hospital was the only four stories building in town, and the Emergency Room was on the top floor. (The hospital was originally only three stories, however, It turns out when they made the building they forgot the emergency room. Thus, they simply decided that they would add another floor on top for the ER. Besides riding in a helicopter to the ER is so much better than a car). So when someone had to go to the ER they (the locals that is) would say the person was taking a trip to the top of Mount Everest.

Okay, you know about Mount Everest hospital and the Emergency Room we can go back to Mr. Smith, who is overjoyed at winning a lifetime supply of dry erase markers. So Mr. Smith in all his excitement went running out in the streets to announce his winnings to the world, however, when Smith ran out the door to “Radio Show” he failed to see a small rabbit hopping across the sidewalk. Yes indeed this was Mr. Canezzle’s rabbit who was trying again at freedom…only to find that cars were not the only things he had to worry about, there were also shoes. And the first shoes Mr. Canezzle’s rabbit found were Mr. Smith’s. Seeing the danger of the shoe that was threatening to make him permanently part of the sidewalk, Mr. Canezzle’s Rabbit ran back for his hat, in the process tripping Mr. Smith sending all two hundred and thirty-seven pounds of Mr. Smith hurling to the sidewalk. Now Mr. Smith was not the most graceful man on the earth…no not at all! Mr. Smith landed right on his arm, putting it at an odd angle. 

Mr. Canezzle, hearing the commotion and seeing his rabbit looking very guilty as it ran back into his hat, decided that he must do what he could do to help the poor man. Mr. Canezzle dropped his newspaper, pick up his rabbit and hurried over to Mr. Smith. 

“Tell this Man you're sorry,” Mr. Canezzle said to his rabbit. “Tell this Man you're sorry,” Mr. Canezzle said again as he healed the rabbit up to Mr. Smith. The rabbit’s ears twitched a little and then fell limp, which is rabbit talk for I am sorry. “Thank you, now go back to your hat and stay there!” Mr. Canezzle ordered the rabbit. “Mr. Sir. Dude, are you alright?” Mr. Canezzle asked Mr. Smith, who now appeared to be in great pain. 

Now when Mr. Canezzle noticed that Mr. Smith’s arm was broken, he was overwhelmed with compassion and know he had to do whatever he could to help him, after all, it was his rabbit that made the accident. 

Now let us skip through time about three hours. Okay, now you are, yes you, you're sitting in your English class. It’s your last class for the day before you can go home and do all that homework your algebra teacher gave you…yeah. Well, as you sit there waiting for your teacher, who is already 5 minutes late for class. You begin thinking about how you can break the news to algebra that you think he should stop looking for his X because you don’t think she will be coming back. 

Then suddenly the classroom door flies open. In walks a well-dressed man…well you assume his clothes were nice at one point... It also seems this man has no fashion sense on the account that he is wearing striped suspenders, a plaid shirt…and a belt?…Hold up! This man that has just come into your classroom is wearing suspenders…and a belt…with a plaid shirt. 

“Hello, class,” the plaid shirt, suspenders-wearing, man began, “I am Mr. Canezzle, I will be filling in for your normal teacher today on the account that he has won a radio show contest, and is taking a one day trip to the top of Mount Everest.”

You find this quite strange, because your teacher, Mr. Smith, is strongly agents radio, has a great fear of snow and does not like the feeling you get from going outside.


Now you probably are wondering why Mr. Canezzle is in your classroom. Right. Well, see when the ER people got to Mr. Smith, Mr. Canezzle overheard them say Mr. Smith was a teacher at the high school. Being so overwhelmed with compassion for the kids that might have to get out of school early because they had no teacher, and wanting to fix the mistake his rabbit had done, Mr. Canezzle took the place as the teacher for Mr. Smith. However, as for the story Mr. Canezzle told about Mr. Smith, well that is what Mr. Canezzle calls situational truth. See Mr. Canezzle has learned that depending on the situation if you just give part of the facts of what happened then people will draw a different conclusion as to what happened. See Mr. Canezzle just told you that Mr. Smith "won a radio show contest, and is taking a one day trip to the top of Mount Everest," which is completely accurate. But without the info about Mount Everest hospital and the Emergency Room, you would think Mr. Smith was really on his way to the top of Mount Everest because he had won a radio show contest. But really, that's not what Mr. Canezzle told you. See, the statements Mr. Canezzle said was entirely accurate; your logic is just what was false.

The End

Friday, April 1, 2016

Trigger Fairy?

I should give adults more credit. My neighbor's father had positive, constructive, useful feedback on my story. I applaud the man for being mature enough to put any personal opinions about me aside for the review. Of course, it is possible that his son has not said anything to him about me. It is also possible that the weird, stony looks he gives me are a declaration of his undying love. Yeah.  

Talk of adults makes me think, though. I never thought they had brains or feelings or the need to go to the bathroom. But I do. Technically, I am one of those. But, dear reader, I do not in any way feel like one.   

I love the freedom to do anything, any time it pleases me. It is like potential energy, though. The bow is drawn, the arrow pointed. I just don't know where to shoot. I have looked into the future and I am famous there. I have many best-selling novels there. People love me there. I am a writer.  

But I also wonder what will be next. What should I prepare for now so that when that one dream is real, all the others can be as well? Is it inconceivable that I might tire ever so slightly of that future life?  

I want to be like Leonardo Da Vinci. I want to be great. Writing is magnificent because as any character, in any world, I can be.  

Just, how do I make it real?  
Youth really is wasted on the young.