The Last Night

I honestly can't believe I'm turning eighteen tomorrow. It's an alien feeling to think I graduate from high school next May. In elementary school, I used to feel like graduation was years away, and it was, but back then it felt like hundreds of years. Each year of school was different, some were more difficult experiences than others, but it has been and is still a mostly worthwhile ride. Now there is one last semester to go before I cross the finish line. Then there's college: an exciting, but even weirder thought. I want to pursue creative writing because it is my passion, I know it.

I'm not superstitious or anything, but I can't help but wonder if I will feel different after I turn eighteen. Maybe as the hands of the clock click past 3:36 pm, I'll feel changed somehow. My mom certainly hopes so. Will I be just like my normal self, like I am at this moment? Or will I be different? I can't make tomorrow afternoon come any faster, so for now I am waiting anxiously to find out.

Just as a nostalgic thing, I have a couple pictures of me from so long ago. They are photos of me at my preschool graduation, circa 1998. Sorry they are overexposed, but I guess that's what happens when undeveloped film doesn't see the light of day for about ten years.

The Village

I can't understand why M. Night Shyamalan's The Village is so widely disliked. Correction: unappreciated. I love this movie. It has the feel of a Twilight Zone episode, so naturally I like it for that reason, but there is much more to admire beyond that alone.

What makes the film most terrifying is its precise manipulation of sound. The Village manages to create shock not through loud explosions, but small noises such as the crunching of leaves or twigs to make the audience wonder, "What is that?". It helped me realize just how easily scared I am. It's really fear of the unknown, a concept that Hitchcock applied to his films. Shyamalan has clearly learned from the Master. I'm relieved to know a modern director can grasp what really frightens people.

Another thing I enjoyed about the movie was the absolutely beautiful music. A James Newton Howard score, it focuses mostly on strings. The music can at one moment relax me (on par with George Winston) and then the next have my heart racing. It contributes a lot to why I like the film. The soundtrack is on my ipod, of course! :)

Also worth mentioning is Bryce Dallas Howard's performance in the lead role of Ivy Walker. Simply brilliant.

My Grandpa Knapp has been visiting us this past week for Thanksgiving. We watched The Village tonight. I was glad that he loved it and that the twists surprised him (as they did for me the first time I saw it). We both appreciate good movies and have a mutual taste for Hitchcock films, making for some pretty engaging conversations. I wish we could do this more often.

Harry Potter

Just minutes ago I came back from seeing the latest Harry Potter movie. I feel like I'm wasting time with this stupid introduction, so...my reaction to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1.

The film is very dark and epic as I expected it would be going in. There was some humor injected here and there that helped it from being too serious, but not always. Daniel Radcliffe is a little too dramatic ("I will do this" or "We will do that"), but the performances from the leads are good enough by and large.

It's clear that JK Rowling had plenty of creative control over the production. It was an excellent decision to split the story over two films, since Deathly Hallows is certainly the most detailed book in the series. I was happily surprised at how much was kept in the film; the things that didn't make it aren't really missed. My only complaint is that the camping scenes before they break the locket drag a bit and the whole part with Ron leaving Harry and Hermione seems to have the sole purpose of adding an extra half hour to the film. To be fair, these were also problems with the book. I would always prefer an accurate adaption to an inaccurate one, so I consider it a minor quibble.

My favorite part of the film was when we learn about "The Tale of the Three Brothers". I thought the animated way of telling the story was interesting and delightfully creepy (with a very Tim Burton-inspired vibe). The whole scene where our heroes visit Luna Lovegood's dad was exactly what I envisioned just from reading the book.

I loved this movie. It's the best film adaption since Prisoner of Azkaban. I'm going to see it twice on the big screen, but I want to wait until the excitement dies down a bit. It was worth seeing on opening day, but I don't want to have to force my way through a sea of people to find a place to sit next time.

Short Stories

For all of my optimism about my novel, I haven't gotten past the third chapter. Right now my progress is at a standstill. Was I a bit too ambitious? Maybe. I have put my novel in a white envelope where all of my unfinished work goes. They say that if you are unsure about your writing, the best thing to do is let it sit for a while and come back later. In the future when I review my work, hopefully I will be struck by some wave of inspiration.

I feel a bit guilty for neglecting my blog during the past month, but I have been consumed with writing my would be-novel. Now, to stay productive, I decided to begin with short stories as baby steps. Short fiction is an entirely different type of creative writing than the novel. They are shorter, obviously, which makes them easier to write in one way, but harder in another. There is very little room to write backgrounds for characters beyond what is absolutely necessary for the story itself. As much as possible has to be revealed through the actions of the characters. It's a difficult task for a new writer like me. Practice, practice, practice...but isn't that the point?

I finished my first short story last week and am very proud of it. I think of it as Twilight Zone-style science fiction. What I like about writing scifi is that you can go in pretty much any direction in terms of storyline. The genre also works well with social commentary, something I admired Twilight Zone for. I like my stories to be food for thought. I think the show's creator and primary writer, Rod Serling, was a genius. It took guts to stand behind his work and fight censorship. His writing continues to inspire me.

I started writing my next story today and I think it will be better than the first one. Although I strive to put quality over quantity, my goal is to complete four stories by December. Having a goal keeps me working.

I included an interview with Rod Serling when he had just begun Twilight Zone, before it was a huge success. I like his strong-willed attitude toward his work. I would recommend watching it.

Novel Progress # 1

So...it is day five since I decided to try my hand at fiction. This is amazing! I have never had more fun with my writing before. I have written three chapters so far. Working on this novel is almost addictive. Once an idea for the next scene comes to mind, I feel as though I must write it down before I lose it. It is satire, so the direction the plot is going is basically set in stone, but sometimes I feel as though the story is writing itself and I'm just along for the ride. I know this is going to be a rewarding experience. I can't wait to see it in its published form.

At the moment, I am probably acting a tad too big for my britches. I want to stay optimistic and maintain self-confidence (I'll NEED it when I take my baby to the publishers). I can do this, but I'm in it for the long haul. I have two books on writing fiction, The Practical Writer and How to Write a Damn Good Novel, II. From what I've read so far, the latter is particularly useful as a reference on how to create emotion in your reader and build suspense, which is all-important where my book is concerned. It had better help make my novel damn good, because I would like to write my Pulitzer Prize acceptance speech alongside it! ;)

Before I get too carried away with publishing deals and bestseller lists, I have to sit down and write the novel. It's good to have the people I trust most read my first draft, second opinions have led to a ton of much needed changes. My first draft is entirely handwritten, later I'll type it up into a manuscript and continue cutting this part and pasting that part until it is good enough to submit for publishing. I'll cross that unstable bridge when I get there...

I'm sorry, but I can't share chapters or excerpts from my book publicly yet. If you want more information about what I am satirizing with my novel, follow the link here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Fire_of_Smyrna

Meanwhile, I need to get back to work! 

Writer's Blog

"Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up for work." --Chuck Close

I sure hope that isn't true because I feel suddenly inspired. I want to write a novel. I don't think of myself as an amateur writer, though the idea of being a full-fledged novelist is intimidating. As both a guidebook and a way to soothe my ego, I ordered The Practical Writer. The book goes into detail about the process of turning the outline for a story into a novel and then how to publish it. The emphasis is on the professional approach that is required for a novel to be bought by a publisher, which is exactly what I want to learn. I hope The Practical Writer can prepare me for both the inevitable rejections and the joy of acceptance.

I have only just begun the basic concepts of my novel. For the time being, my novel is only a single page of loose leaf paper. Could be worse...JK Rowling started out with napkins. I know from experience that the easiest time to quit is during brainstorming, so I have to believe in myself and back it up with hard work.  I am trying to create characters and fully understand them before I even start outlining. Another good plan is using notecards to organize the scenes in the story. That way I can quickly rearrange things to change the pacing if necessary.

It took me a while to figure out exactly what I wanted to write. I was inspired by Giles Milton's book, Paradise Lost: Smyrna, 1922. I immediately threw out the option of writing a history, because it had already been done so well. I contemplated writing historical fiction, but eventually settled on writing a satirical novel. I like the idea more and more as I think about it. In this case, a satire is really my lazy man's nonfiction. I bet it will, regardless, still be a challenge. I hope that I'm up for it.

Autumn Arrives

There are things I love about Autumn. The leaves change colors, Thanksgiving will be here before I know it, which means I get to visit with my extended family. Did I mention pumpkin pie? I learned today that pumpkin is actually a type of squash. Weird, I know. I tried pumpkin pie from a real pumpkin once and it's not much different than the canned stuff, just a bit chunky. That makes me wonder if cans of pumpkin just sprout from the ground alongside frozen pie crusts. I remember the pumpkin shortage last year, it just added to the insanely busy workweek at Publix before Thanksgiving. I got 25 hours that week, it was worth it!

I'm happy it's October. The only thing is that the weather changed so quickly. Only two weeks ago I was praying for an end to the ninety degree heat. I got my wish with perfect temperatures, but it was too good to last. On the drive to school this morning, my teeth chattered as gripped the steering wheel. I don't want to notice the ten minutes it takes for the heater to kick in. That's acceptable in January, not October. Oh well, it's worth it to savor this time of year. It will be over before I know it...

Favorites

 I read a lot of books. If I find a book I enjoy, I can become inseparable from it. There are few activities I like more than quiet afternoons when I can curl up under a blanket with a good read. This is something that really relaxes me. If I'm not careful, I might listen to December and fall asleep. It's the "George Winston guarantee".

When I finish a book, I want to feel sad that it's over. That is the standard I use to differentiate a good book from a great book. I was emotional after I finished Big Chief Elizabeth for the first time, which was a factor in what makes it my very favorite book. First impressions are very important, if I don't become immersed in the story fast, it is easy for me to quit reading it and try something else. It isn't fair to some books that grow on me more slowly, but that's the way it usually works. I just need to be more patient.

The downside of the first impression approach is that I have read books that I finish once and immediately say "That is one of my favorites!" while the book was fresh in mind. Then the excitement wears off and then I wonder what was so special about that book that I made it one of my favorites. A good question to ask at that point is "Would I read it again?". Maybe, maybe not. This isn't something that happens to me often with books, but it has before. On the other hand, there are some that quickly become my favorites and I don't regret it at all later.

I am currently reading They Poured Fire on Us From the Sky. I read it in English class Sophomore year and disliked it. The main reason was because I was forced to read it for school, which takes a significant amount of the enjoyment out of almost any book. I thought the way they compiled the three perspectives was confusing, but, I was also not really engaged in reading it. I want to learn patience, so I'm giving it another chance. Fifty pages in, it benefits a lot from a second reading. I really like it.

I'm looking forward to the next book on my reading list, The Shadow of the Wind, a novel by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. I rarely read fiction nowadays, but it is really good from what I've heard. I ordered it online and expect it to arrive on Wednesday or Thursday. I can't wait!

Calling at Roanoke

In June of 2008, our family drove across East Tennessee and the entire state of North Carolina to the Outer Banks, a whopping 12 hour drive. We made the smart decision of splitting the drive into two days, stopping in Raleigh on the first night. I had been looking forward to our vacation for about a year and could hardly stand the excitement. The next day we had almost reached our destination, but first we had to drive over the sound to Roanoke Island and then cross the sound again to get the the rest of the Outer Banks. I could write about everything we did over the course of our week, but I decided to do it in parts as a way of anticipating our trip next summer. I want to talk about Roanoke, anyway.

On the third or fourth day, we went back to Roanoke. It was by far the hottest day of the week we were at the Outer Banks, and everyone except me would rather have stayed inside our beach house's air-conditioned paradise. I persisted because I had been intrigued by the true story of the "Lost Colony" ever since I first heard it back in 8th grade American History class. The history nerd in me wouldn't pass up the chance to visit the place where it happened.

We arrived at the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site, which was a in a forested area that was basically a state park. We didn't waste time in getting out of the heat and into the main building, where we browsed around until a ranger told a large group of us the story of the Roanoke colony:

In 1584, an English colonial project for North America was being planned. It was backed by the flamboyant Sir Walter Ralegh, who sent a group of explorers to search the American coastline for a suitable spot for the colony. They soon fell in love with the Outer Banks, particularly Roanoke Island. The island was protected by the barrier of the Outer Banks, which minimized the risk of attack by the Spanish, the soil was good for agriculture, and the explorers received a warm reception from the native Algonquian tribes that lived in the area. On the return voyage, they brought back two tribesmen, Manteo and Wanchese. Manteo was curious about the English way of life and worked with Thomas Harriot, an important member of Ralegh's team. He and Harriot worked together to learn each other's language.Wanchese was less eager to learn, he saw himself as a prisoner during his time in England and later deserted the colony.

For the most part, things looked hopeful for Ralegh's enterprise. A second expedition was sent to the Outer Banks in 1585. Sir Richard Grenville, who took the colonists to Roanoke, appointed Ralph Lane to be the governor. Their ship was wrecked when it tried to enter the Outer Banks through dangerously shallow waters. Nearly all of the food and farming supplies were ruined by the seawater. Despite the accident, they arrived on the island and met the chief, Wingina. The colonists were in need of food, and requested use of the tribe's food supply. Wingina obliged, but soon the extra mouths to feed, along with several violent clashes between natives and colonists, would stretch his tolerance of the English to its breaking point. He eventually planned an attack on the colonists with the goal of wiping them out entirely. Governor Lane caught wind of the planned massacre ahead of time, so he responded with a massacre of his own. The colonists' main target was Wingina himself, so they chased him into the forest and beheaded him. With the tribe practically obliterated, the threat from Wingina was gone, but so was the food supply. The colony was in an awful situation, so they jumped at the chance to return to England with Sir Francis Drake who was passing the Outer Banks on his way back from the Caribbean. It was unlucky that Sir Richard Grenville came back to Roanoke with a new food supply shortly after their departure.

Grenville left 15 soldiers at Roanoke to hold down the fort and went back to England. The Roanoke experiment was deemed a total failure by Ralegh, so he chose a new site, Chesapeake Bay. The next expedition was sent in 1587, this time led by an artist named John White. Governor White was a weak leader, so when the expedition pilot, Simon Fernandez, did not want to go to Chesapeake Bay, White tried to avoid a confrontation by handing over command of the expedition to Fernandez. The colonists were dropped off at Roanoke Island, which was 50 miles south of their planned destination. Fernandez set sail almost immediately, leaving the colonists to fend for themselves. The 15 men left by Grenville were gone, the only clue was a skeleton found near the fort. The colonists found out that they had all been killed by warriors who were the remnants of Wingina's tribe. White's daughter gave birth to a baby girl, Virginia Dare, the first English child born in North America. Things soon got worse for the colony, the food supply ran low and one of the colonists was found dead, murdered by hostile natives. The colonists unanimously decided that Governor White should return to England to request more supplies.White reluctantly agreed. Before he left, the colony planned that if they should leave Roanoke while White was away, they would carve the name of their location into a tree along with a Maltese Cross if the move was made by force.

Due to several delays, John White's return to the colony did not happen until 1590. He finally made it back to Roanoke Island to find that the colonists had disappeared. The fort had broken down and was empty, everything that had been used to build the houses was gone. Some of his possessions, which had been placed in a chest and buried for safekeeping, had been dug up and looted. Even a few of his precious watercolors had been left exposed to the weather and were ruined. The only clue left behind was a word carved into a post of the fort: CROATOAN. There was fortunately no cross. White could only assume that the colonists had gone to Croatoan Island, which was not far from Roanoke. White planned to visit Croatoan the following day, but his luck had run out. A nasty storm came up which forced his ship far enough out to sea that it wasn't worth going back to the Outer Banks. John White never tried to return again. The mystery has remained unsolved ever since.

The ranger finished telling the story. I was spellbound. I drifted over to the souvenir shop, where I bought a copy of John White's watercolor map of the Outer Banks (which is remarkably accurate). I found out later that my parents bought me Big Chief Elizabeth, which is about the Roanoke colony, and is also my all-time favorite book. Before we left Roanoke, we stopped at an oasis also known as 7-Eleven. I guess the real reason the colonists vanished was because they didn't have Slurpees!

The Snooze Alarm

My backpack is a tough old broad. On the front it says "THE OTHER SIDE OF 2000", it might be worth good money at an antique store. I'm joking, I would never get rid of it, it is one of my prized possessions. After eleven years of carrying my school things my backpack is unfortunately showing its age.

Although carrying 50 lbs of textbooks is its main purpose in life, it also makes a surprisingly comfortable pillow. This afternoon in AP European History, I brought a book and my ipod, fully prepared to stay awake, or so I thought. The book couldn't hold my interest and my ipod had the low battery screen, so I lifted my backpack onto my desk and dozed off. I was drifting into sleep, but could hear the distant noise of Coach Whitefield criticizing our latest batch of essays. I guess I was only half-asleep, but I needed my rest, I didn't get much last night.

But my snooze was too good to last. Before I knew it, I heard the doorbell sound on the school intercom. I groaned as I wiped away the string of drool connecting my backpack to the corner of my mouth. Even if it was only for a little while, getting to sleep was great! I don't know what I would do without my backpack, it's priceless. :)

Banned

Is it right to ban books? I think most people would answer, "yes, but within reason." Banning books is a good thing in some ways, but is bad thing in others. I can understand where libraries are coming from with limiting their selection of books. They probably don't want people coming to the library to stock up on porn, instead they want to fill the shelves with books of good taste. Joking aside, supporters of book banning have a point. Parents should want to protect their kids, right? Is it going too far for parents to impose their will on the libraries if they deem a book inappropriate for their children? I think it should be the parent's responsibility to choose for themselves, instead of depriving someone else of a book that person may want to read. For example, if one of my beloved Giles Milton books was banned at the library, I would be leader of the opposition.

It isn't only overprotective parents, it could also be a person with some kind of agenda. If someone wanted to minimize other people's opinions, isn't that against the First Amendment? Free speech comes with strings attached, again it is a "within reason" thing. If everyone could say exactly what they think, things would be chaotic. However, what human being has the authority to choose what is and isn't reasonable for everyone else? The alternative option is just common sense. If common sense was the only restriction, some idiots would go too far and their actions could then be used as reasons to have more restrictions.

Both sides of the argument have a valid point, but both have extremes. There should be a balance, some kind of compromise. If only we could get there...

Middle Ground

When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us. ~Alexander Graham Bell

That quote describes me perfectly. When I want something, I obsess over it until it's mine, and under appreciate what I already had. If I do appreciate what I have, I am thankful for it but in the back of my mind I think, "What's next? Is there more?". The fact that I struggle with jealousy doesn't help, it just adds to the selfishness. I'm not proud of it and I want to break the cycle, even though it won't be easy for me.

I plan to start helping people with severe Cerebral Palsy at school. At the very least, I want to meet them. I feel like it would be a learning experience for me, and I would like to understand how they view their lives and cope with their disorder, since I only know a taste of what living with CP is like. After that, I can reevaluate my own problems.

I also want to do this because I have a connection with them and feel that in a small way I can relate. Is that being selfish? I've been confused about that for a while. Ever since I found out that I have Cerebral Palsy, I have felt torn between feeling victimized by my disorder or moving on and remembering that nothing holds me back. Should I help others or help myself? I want to find a middle ground. It's possible to do both, but where should the priority be? I want to help people with severe CP, but it would be ungrateful for me to ignore how lucky I am and be the best I can be. Where do I stand?

At the Gym

I was planning on writing today's blog on another topic, but changed my mind. A more positive, funny blog would be better for me right now, it's more worthwhile to try to get out of this depression, hopefully the effect will be more than temporary.

I love to work out. I have gone to the YMCA for the past 3 years, but have only been serious about it since about a year ago when I decided to take Weights class at school. At first, I couldn't do much and made little progress, but eventually it started to kick in (along with eating more). I'm proud that now I am making progress on a weekly basis and have come a long way in reaching my goal, even though I am still far from achieving it. However, I must give credit where credit is due: Thank you to my good friend Sam Ives for the all of the help and support, it means a lot to me and I'm very grateful for it!

I was at the gym last night, it was a back/biceps/shoulders workout. Everything was normal, I was working on a bicep exercise with the kettle bells when this other guy approached me. He asked what muscles the exercise worked. He looked about twice as strong as I am, so I was surprised he didn't know. Since 95% of the time bigger guys only stop me if I'm doing something wrong, my immediate response was, "Is this a trick question?" He told me he legit didn't know. It was difficult for me to suppress a grin as I explained what the exercise was. I won't lie, my ego went through the roof. It's shallow, I know, but it could be worse. For instance, I think a certain amount of heavy breathing is normal when a guy is working out, but for some people LOUD grunting is code for "Look at me! I'm a badass." I guess it's just part of weight room culture, and that kind of thing can be contagious. Understand I'm not pretending to be superior or saying every guy who works out is that full of himself, I'm just making a fair observation.

It's good to be proud of yourself. I will be very proud when I reach my goal. As with anything, there are some people will who take it too far. I'm not sure if I won't take it too far. I admit my ego is big now, but how much bigger will it become down the road? Although I think it's funny, I won't be too hard on guys like that because it's likely I will end up just like them one day.

Rude Awakening

I had a long day today. School was normal, but I was very tired by the end of the day. I had to go to the bank and the post office, but I didn't waste time. When I got home, I collapsed on my bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

While I was snoozing, I had a really good dream. It was like everything important that I'm thinking about right now, strung together for my mind's entertainment. I thought it was really a look at how emotional and depressed I feel right now. It was an unbiased perspective of my feelings about what is happening in my life. The dream was happy, but it was sad, too, especially looking back on it. I think the message of the dream was how important close friendship is to me but how afraid I am of losing it.

All of a sudden, I heard the punishingly loud noise of someone knocking on my bedroom door. It was my dad telling me to get up. Why did the dream have to end? I glanced at my alarm clock and saw that I had been asleep for almost 2 hours. It felt like 15 minutes while I was dreaming. I knew the dream was important and that I would forget it soon, so I wrote it down in my diary before I emerged from my room. I plan to look over it again tomorrow morning. It's not that hard to understand what this dream is telling me, it's just reinforcing what I'm going through in real life. Honestly, do I need the reminder? All I need is some support.

Changed

I had the brakes fixed on my car last week. I generally love spending money, except that this time it is was an unhappy $400 surprise. Nobody said car repair was convenient, it's really a wake-up call. Painfully, now I will have to commit the criminal offense of reducing my personal spending. It's back to only spending 1/3 of my paycheck and saving the rest...

The stretch of time between November and January is when I have the most birthday presents to buy, not to mention Christmas. Right now, it's a scary thought that won't leave me alone. I found a glass jar in my kitchen that I'm going to use to store my loose change, which had been accumulating in my car for a long time. Today is day 1 of my "Birthday/Christmas" fund. I know it won't cover everything, but hopefully I can make a decent amount of money from it.

Another area where I can't spend much money is on books. I think new books can be ridiculously expensive. I avoid libraries if I have a choice. I'll be honest: the reason I don't like to use them is because I'm against doing things on someone else's time, the exceptions being that either I have to or there is some kind of reward for me involved. Getting books used isn't bad as a compromise, most of my Giles Milton books were used.

I think saving more and spending it on other people will be a good experience for me, the hard part is staying committed to it.

White Gold

You could call this "book review month" for my blog. I just finished yet another Giles Milton book, White Gold: the Extraordinary Story of Thomas Pellow and Islam's One Million White Slaves. It was honestly one of the best books I have ever read! I consider myself a tough judge of a book's quality, so I guess that says something about White Gold.

White Gold is based on the true experiences of a Cornish boy named Thomas Pellow who was a Christian slave in Morocco. In 1715, the eleven year old Thomas Pellow was on a trading voyage with his uncle in the Mediterranean when their ship was ambushed by Barbary pirates. The pirates kidnapped Pellow, his uncle, and the crew and took them to Morocco, where they were auctioned off as slaves. They were bought by the Sultan of Morocco, Moulay Ismail. The slaves were forced to march to the imperial capital of Meknes, where Moulay Ismail personally inspected them. The sultan saw potential in the young Thomas Pellow, so he was one of a handful of new slaves that were set aside for special treatment, the rest were sent immediately to the horrific slave pens. White Gold is an account of Thomas Pellow's 23 years in captivity, his rise from a slave to being influential in the sultan's court, and his eventual escape back to his home in Cornwall.

White Gold is a great book in part because Thomas Pellow's story is so remarkable. It is also helped by the fact that the two main characters (for lack of a better word), Thomas Pellow and Moulay Ismail, are both interesting in their own way, which makes the book very entertaining as the events unfold.

Moulay Ismail had a reputation for doing things according to his split-second, at times even psychotic, whims. He was a rigid disciplinarian who required excellence and absolute obedience from his closest advisors down to his slaves, who he saw as one in the same. Under the surface, Moulay Ismail was clever, ambitious, and calculating. Using exclusively Christian slave labor, he planned to build an immense palace that would surpass any in Europe both in size and grandeur. Moulay Ismail was in his sixties by the time Thomas Pellow came into the picture, but remained as formidable as ever. If a servant displeased him enough, he would often carry out the execution himself, as was the case on the day that Pellow first met him. It is estimated that the imperial harem, strictly for the sultan's private use, was home to 2000 women. Moulay Ismail was rumored to have been the father of 900 children over the course of his lifetime.

Thomas Pellow was smart and quick-thinking, which won him favor with the sultan. After arriving in Meknes, Moulay Ismail selected him for some alternative duties as a slave. At first, Pellow was a gift to one of the sultan's sons. During the day, Pellow worked on building the huge new palace, while at night was brutally tortured by his owner in hopes of forcibly converting him to Islam. Under pressure, Pellow gave in and apostatized, which allowed him a more comfortable life while in captivity. At different points he was a guard of Moulay Ismail's harem, learned fluent Arabic and became a translator for the sultan, and led imperial armies in battles against rebel forces. Unfortunately, The European ambassadors who came to Meknes in order to negotiate the release of Christian slaves regarded him as a traitor for becoming a Muslim and made no attempts to free him. Pellow was extraordinarily still able to make it through more than two decades of enslavement before his escape.

I was surprised to find that prior to reading White Gold, I had never heard of white slavery. It seems to be an event that has nearly vanished from history books. Giles Milton's deeper message with the book is clearly one that is against any intolerance and slavery regardless of who is the victim. Have we understood it, or must we still learn that lesson today?

Trouble in Paradise

I finally finished Paradise Lost: Smyrna, 1922. It was a great book, so I guess the reason I quit reading it before was my own short attention span more than anything else. That said, it isn't a book I would read again any time soon.

It was just as compelling and readable as any other of Giles Milton's non-fiction books. The difference is that Paradise Lost had a much more depressing and somber subject matter than anything he had written before. During the last third of the book, it brought me to the verge of tears.

The book is very well-written, but some of Milton's distinctive writing style is missing. Although the author's fingerprints are all over it, the book lacks any of his humor. In his previous books, he could always manage to find some otherwise insignificant detail in the story that would make me laugh. Often, the humor was a key ingredient to what made reading his books so addictive. I can understand where Milton is coming from because adding any humor would not only undermine the book's serious tone, but also be inappropriate and insulting to the victims of the real life tragedy it depicts. Giles Milton's goal was not to be charming or humorous when he wrote Paradise Lost. I just prefer his books when they are lighter reads.

While not Milton's best work, Paradise Lost: Smyrna, 1922 is worthwhile reading. If you have never read any of Giles Milton's books, I would suggest beginning with something happier like the ever-entertaining Big Chief Elizabeth, which will give you a better idea of what most of his books are like.

Waiting for Wolfram

I am very happy. I've reached the halfway point of Paradise Lost: Smyrna, 1922 and plan to get to the end this time (the third attempt). The fact that it has found its way back to my bookshelf unfinished really bothers me. The book started slow, but it picked up the pace quickly. It's a page-turner. Right now I can't help but ask myself, "What are you doing writing this blog? Go read Paradise Lost!!"

I learned some exciting news today: Giles Milton is releasing a new book soon! It is called Wolfram: The Boy who went to War. There isn't much information out there about the book just yet. It won't be published until February 17, 2011, and most likely in the United Kingdom first, then it will be released in America later on. I found one tantalizing paragraph about Wolfram from Amazon.com (or hopefully straight from the dust jacket!):

The fighter bombers appeared from nowhere ...there was no time to think about firing back, nor even to unharness the horses pulling the artillery. Wolfram buried his head in his arms as the opening salvo exploded all around him. The ground shuddered and jolted as heavy weaponry thumped into the soil. It was like a giant fist punching the ground. Explosion after explosion. Thump - thump - thump.The Allied bombers screamed in from the sea, spilling hundreds of shells onto the troops below. As the air filled with exploding shrapnel, one young German soldier flung himself into a ditch and prayed that his ordeal would soon be over.Wolfram Aichele was nine years old when Hitler came to power: his formative years were spent in the shadow of the Third Reich. He and his parents - free-thinking artists - were to have first hand experience of living under one of the most brutal regimes in history.Wolfram: The Boy Who Went to War overturns all the cliches about life under Hitler. It is a powerful story of warfare and human survival and a reminder that civilians on all sides suffered the consequences of Hitler's war. It is also an eloquent testimony to the fact that even in times of exceptional darkness there remains a brilliant spark of humanity that can never be totally extinguished. Wolfram is the father-in-law of best-selling writer, Giles Milton.

It sounds like it will be a great read, just like Milton's other books. It might be even better, considering the added insight that Milton must have from knowing in person the subject of his book. I'm anxiously awaiting February 17. I can only hope that Wolfram will be released simultaneously in both the UK and the US. I haven't been this excited about a book since I waited in line twice (thanks to a certain sister who must-not-be-named) at the midnight launch of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I have to finish Paradise Lost before I become so distracted by Giles Milton's next book that I forget this one completely.

True Appreciation

I am a jealous person, no doubt about it. I am jealous normally in a restrained, quiet way. I rarely openly express it. I tend to allow my jealousy and resentment to build up inside me before sooner or later it explodes in rage. Mostly, if not always, my anger stems from jealousy. As it relates to my loved ones and the people I care most about, I have to remind myself quite often that if I really love them, I would not allow mean-spirited jealousy to get in the way. I also have to remember that jealousy is an emotion that comes from fear, not love.

This isn't easy for me. I am a work in progress!!

While I thought about it, this question came to mind: do the people that have something others want feel as grateful and appreciate its value as the outsider who does not have it, but wants it?

With lots of help, support, and phone calls, I have been working to change my endlessly jealous attitude toward other people without CP (I've decided that it's my blog, I'll write whatever I want!). I am trying to get to the middle ground where I can accept that I have it, but don't feel sorry for myself.The hardest part is staying there. Nothing holds me back, nothing at all. I can't deal with this bullshit anymore! Call me arrogant, but I know I am meant for better things and I expect them, so I will work my hardest to earn them. I want to reach a point where I won't feel the need to question my physical abilities and no one else will, either. I'm dying to feel the satisfaction of proving wrong that idiotic doctor who diagnosed my CP and had the nerve to say "He is not likely to be athletic." To some, I may have crossed the line between high self-confidence and being egotistical, but I don't care. I will achieve that goal someday.

I feel like conquering my obstacle will teach me true appreciation. I'm starting to think that was the point from the beginning.

Answered Prayers?

Last night, I watched Capote. I like it enough that this was a repeat viewing. The film is about the true story of how Truman Capote wrote In Cold Blood, his famous "non-fiction novel", and how the experience affected him. The subject matter is bleak and depressing, but it is a good story and the film pulls it off very well. I thought Phillip Seymour Hoffman's performance in the title role was brilliant, too.

As a book, In Cold Blood was the first of its kind. It is based on the true story of the 1959 murders of four members of an innocent family in rural Kansas. Capote's goal was to write a non-fiction book that stayed as accurate as possible to the events, but gave the characters the depth and emotion that could be found in a work of fiction, hence the "non-fiction novel". In Cold Blood took six years to finish and was an incredible success when it was released. It is considered a classic today.

Capote traveled to Kansas and thoroughly researched for his book. This included many interviews with the two killers. The true accuracy of the book is debatable. As Capote interviewed Perry Smith (one of the killers), he felt a connection to Smith and a very strong friendship grew between the two of them. That would explain the sympathetic portrayal of Perry Smith in the book. During the research stage, Capote never wrote anything from his interviews down on paper or used tape recorders, so he could have easily changed events and details to suit his potential bias. It could have also been that Perry Smith put his own spin on what happened and it wasn't Capote at all. Capote would probably have been vulnerable because of his feelings for Smith. After all, if Perry Smith was capable of murder, wouldn't he be capable of being that manipulative?

After the killers were executed and In Cold Blood was published, Capote became an alcoholic for the rest of his life and never completed another book. His last, unfinished work, called Answered Prayers, begins with this quote:

"More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones."

It is sadly ironic because the publishing of In Cold Blood could be considered an answered prayer for Capote, but it left him an unhappy shell of who he once was. Or perhaps his prayer was answered, but in an unexpected way.

Recalculating

Math has never been my best subject. I've known that ever since I struggled with comprehending one-digit addition and subtraction back in 1st Grade. More recently, being in Algebra II has brought my math learning career to an all-new low. I'm really meant to write, not to do long division or solve for x.

I rest assured that no one will stop and quiz me on my times tables, but I want to improve my math skills. I bought Brain Age yesterday. According to the (maybe) reliable and scientifically-proven research presented in the instruction booklet, the folks who developed the game made the groundbreaking connection between doing mental exercises and improving brain health. It's nothing new, but it still was a challenge. The game stampeded me with simple math problems, but made them much harder because the goal was to solve them as quickly as possible.

Playing Brain Age made me think about the dark side of calculators. They are convenient, but are they bad for someone in the long run? Even though they are useful in higher level math, does that make them good for you? Playing Brain Age reminded me of how difficult calculator-free elementary school math was (and, apparently, still is) for me. The fact that I couldn't easily and quickly solve those problems made me feel pathetic. I hope that doing the exercises will help me improve, along with continuing to solve puzzles. It will probably make my math skills better...but since machines that do the work for me are so common, does this really even matter? Will people eventually stop learning mental math?

Hitchcockian

One of my favorite hobbies is watching movies. I prefer older movie to newer ones (The Last Airbender didn't give me any confidence), particularly Hitchcock films. He was extremely talented as a director. I own almost all of his films, both good and bad. Since he directed so many great films, it's hard to believe he could have made a bad one. Even so, many "bad" Hitchcock films are better than the "good" films made by most other directors.

Born in 1899, Alfred Hitchcock began his film career in the silent era, designing title cards for German and French films. In England, he directed a few silent films, and then several talkies in the 1930's. He moved to America in 1940 to direct an adaptation of Rebecca (which won Best Picture for that year), meanwhile his popularity continued to grow. He directed many of his best films during the '50s. Hitchcock's career peaked with the success of Psycho in 1960, and afterward most believe the quality of his films gradually declined. Personally, I think his 1964 film, Marnie, was his last great movie. His final film was released in 1976, and he later died in 1980 of kidney failure.

Hitchcock always liked visual storytelling. Very few of his films are dialogue-driven. He was ahead of his time in that he liked to draw storyboards as a method of planning beforehand. The thought behind it was that it left very little room for editors to tinker with things later. He also hated location shooting because of the expense and extra work involved, and tended to use rear projection instead. Unfortunately, Hitchcock's preferred shooting technique became very obvious in his later films.

It is difficult for me to choose a favorite Hitchcock film because I love so many of them. It's too bad many films today are not made like they were by Hitchcock. I included the trailer for Psycho with this blog. I think it's very funny! Again, thanks to whoever provided the video.

More Than Half

I am turning over a new leaf. I want to do my best to maintain an upbeat attitude toward my disorder. Hopefully, this will be the last blog I write that relates to it. Can I commit to that? Again, I'm trying to be positive.

Right now, I am still figuring out where I stand when it comes to my Cerebral Palsy. Literally half of me has it, the other half doesn't. Up until very recently, I wanted to feel what it's like to be completely normal. Since only half of my body is affected, I already "half know" what that is like. That's the best I will get. I have openly admitted I have it, and it is luckily a very mild case. But it won't change, so why dwell on it anymore? That is something much easier said than done, so I often have to remind myself of that fact to keep from being jealous and resentful. I'm far from perfect, but I try...

No one wants Cerebral Palsy. Honestly, who would? I think if everyone was given a choice, CP would not exist. I'm proud of the fact that very few people knew I had CP before I told them, and the only people who did were the ones who knew exactly what to look for. I believe that the fact that I have such a mild case is a sign that God has a plan for me. So, I want to take advantage of this opportunity that I have. I am determined to be able to do everything a normal person can. That's why I am committed to working out. It challenges CP's effect on me.

Given that this is the last time I plan to talk in this blog about Cerebral Palsy, I must take this opportunity to get everything off my mind. So, I am giving the CP volunteer organization-that-must-not-be-named an opportunity to know what I think about them. Back when I was interested in helping with the group, I got a sheet of paper with my application which listed the not politically correct ways of referring to people with Cerebral Palsy. At the top of the page, it said that the ___________ Cerebral Palsy did not want to degrade the people they help. They then began a long list of "no-no" words, including the word VICTIM. I don't understand what the organization was trying to say. Isn't that indirectly acknowledging that the people with CP are still victims if it still matters to them whether or not that word is used? Besides, if normal people did not think people with CP were victims, I don't think there would be a volunteer group to help people with the disorder in the first place. I know the organization means to help people with CP, but they were contradicting themselves. On top of that, because I have the disorder, I won't be told how to talk about myself by other people who might not even have CP. Like with my CP Facebook group, I think awareness of the disorder and the way it affects people is important, but how someone can talk should be common sense, instead of being enforced by an organization like ___________ Cerebral Palsy. That was ultimately why I chose not to help them.

I feel like I have said all I need to say. Having this as my last blog about my Cerebral Palsy is a major step in the right direction. I'm going to keep consistently working out and fight through that annoyance that is my CP. I love the satisfaction of being able to show my disorder who's boss during my workouts, and along the way making the progress that I want. It will never hold me back again.

Creativity

I love blogging. Not just blogging, really, but writing in general. Writing is a method of relaxation for me. Even if I don't have something meaningful to say, I can at least use writing as an outlet for my thoughts. Having them written down helps me reflect on them later.

I learned to write from reading books, a ton of books. Honestly, all reading did was teach me what different combinations of words sound good together. Even though I can write pretty well, I am not always the most creative person. It's hard, but I feel like I should cut back on this love affair I have with adjectives, it kind of covers up for not having enough originality. I want to improve.

I have plenty of quirks when it comes to how I go about writing. The times when I am typing away at my keyboard are probably when I become the most antisocial. I prefer to be left alone, and am annoyed when people look over my shoulder at what I am doing before I've finished. I want my work to be as good as I can make it before I publish. In fact, some of my blogs have been totally rewritten in the editing stage or have ended on the cutting room floor.

Sometimes I listen to music while I work on my blog. It bothers me to have anything that I find distracting in the background, so turning on a loud TV nearby is the worst! Anyway, the only music I can have playing during my writing time is quiet piano. George Winston's album, December, is my favorite. That music is always helpful when I have to relax, because when I am not as stressed, my writing is much better. I feel like it can give me the creative edge that I need.

Here is a George Winston song that I heard recently and really enjoy. I know it's long but I think it is well worth listening to. Thanks and good job to whoever made this video, it was not me.

Acceptance

Acceptance is a very difficult concept for me to grasp. The problem is that I have trouble letting go of the past. I struggle with forgiving other people, forgiving myself, and moving on when I feel that either I made a serious mistake or was unfairly treated. Sometimes my attitude can be justified, but more often I tend to use it as an excuse to be angry at others. My grudges are hurtful to those people that are close to and care about me. To those people, know that I'm sorry and am trying to get better (hence this blog). What's done is done. That phrase should be burned into my brain.

Of course, this applies to how I feel about why I have Cerebral Palsy. I think anyone familiar with my previous entries could have seen this coming for miles. What can I say? In the past few months, calling me obsessed with finding a reason for my CP is major understatement. Since there is no chance of losing it, I can't help but want to know why I have my disorder. Even with thorough research, I have not come any closer to answering that question. The trail went cold 17 years back. Besides, if I understood the truth of the matter, it would likely cause more pain than it's worth to know. Maybe that's why it was left unexplained. This is the only conclusion: what's done is done. It's not definitive nor is it satisfying, but it is the conclusion. I just have to make peace with the fact that I have CP and move on.

True, what happened to me in the past was unfair, but I should feel very lucky to have a bright future.

EEGs and Other Tortures

I have epilepsy, a side-effect of my Cerebral Palsy. I went to my neurologist a few weeks ago and we were all happy to know that I have not had a seizure for over 4 years now. This is probably because I take medication to prevent them. From a first-person perspective, seizures are awful, nightmarish experiences. Since I haven't had one in a while, the neurologist arranged for me to have an EEG this coming Monday in to help us consider if I still need to take my medicine.

Having an EEG is only slightly less horrific than having a seizure. At least for me, the purpose of the test is to study the brain under certain conditions to determine if I still has epilepsy, but the only way this can be done is by attempting to provoke a seizure. Here are the steps that I remember the doctors took from my previous EEG:

1.) Apply a sticky gel with a rough texture all over my head.

2.) Attach sensors to my head to map brain activity.

3.) Turn off the lights and lie face up on a bed with a strobe light positioned six inches above my face.

4.) While keeping my eyes closed, the strobe light is turned on and left on for long intervals with short breaks in between. The light is bright enough to be seen clearly even with my eyes closed.

5.) Turn off the strobe light, then try to sleep for 30 to 45 minutes.


Since I only have seizures when I am asleep, I think the purpose of the nap afterward is to test if the strobe's effect could cause a seizure, although I am not sure. I am skeptical that it would because I've had several seizures before and never once have they been due to strobe lighting.


I'm dreading the EEG, but putting it into perspective helps, it could be worse. After all, it is slightly better than having more seizures. I guess that's something...

My Last August

I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I am actually looking forward to going back to school. This has happened to me every year since the 7th Grade. At the end of one school year I am so excited about the summer break, but by the time August rolls around, I'm ready to start school again. The only thing that is different this year is that it's the last time...kind of.

I have my quirks. I'll be the first to admit it, and the people who know me well would probably agree. One of my idiosyncrasies is that I love routines. It comforts me to know that if something is one way today, it will be the same tomorrow. This goes hand-in-hand with my stubborn opposition to change, that is, any change that I didn't fully support or have some say in. I see almost any unexpected and/or unhappy surprise through this lens. I'm a control freak if there ever was one. It's a really selfish way to live, and I have it near the top of my list of personal flaws that need to be fixed. That's very easy to say, but following through is the hard part.

The weird part is that once the change happens, I get used to it and everything is okay again. There are exceptions, of course, but otherwise this tends to be the truth. Is it just me, or is this just human?

Anyway, routines are my thing. I know I'm contradicting myself, but, to be honest, I am anxious to get through the next 36 weeks of routines as quickly as possible because of what is happening after Graduation. I'm happy that instead of a graduation party, my immediate family is planning to go on a beach vacation to the Outer Banks in North Carolina instead. Although most of the details are not set in stone (we have a house and time frame for it in mind, but house rental prices for Summer 2011 aren't announced until November), my family is serious about making this trip our vacation next year. I would be lying if I said I wasn't really excited about it even now. This is a BIG deal for me and I can't wait until next summer.

Puzzled

I'm very excited. For the past year or so, I have felt inspired to make my brain healthier. What I mean by this is that, although my brain is for the most part in perfectly good shape, my goal is to strengthen and maybe even repair the mind/body connection in the areas that were damaged by my stroke. I am achieving this through working out. I have made progress, but haven't reached my goal and I'm not satisfied yet. Or maybe I should keep disciplining myself and stay committed, but not set an end goal. That way, there is always motivation to keep working out, feeling great about what I have achieved, but always leaving room to improve.

Anyway, I have suddenly taken an interest in doing puzzles. It had previously been only a passing hobby for me, but now I want to make it a habit. Why only improve my brain as it relates to my Cerebral Palsy, instead of striving for better overall health? To be honest, though, I am absolutely puzzled by my new desire to work on brainteasers. I lack the patience required to solve the ones with less than obvious solutions. This could be a useful exercise for me. Last week, I rediscovered a book of puzzles my sister bought me last Christmas. It has a wide variety of puzzles to work on other than the typical crosswords and sudoku. Thankfully, they are not all math or logic-based, so even a person like me whose brain is wired for English classes can find something I like. That said, the same principle to improve with working out applies here: if I don't do some things that really challenge me, I cannot hope to get better. Plus, I'll openly admit that nothing compares to the pure satisfaction and smug pride that comes after achieving something I previously thought to be impossible, whether it relates to solving puzzles, beating my CP, or any other seemingly difficult task.

My problem now is coming up with some patience. That may be my most difficult puzzle ever!

Emotion and Perception

This was not an easy blog to write. I wrote it to help me deal with an issue that is very personal to me. It was a stretch that I decided to blog about it at all.

Perception has several definitions. For the purposes of this blog, it means how one person sees events in their life from their own viewpoint. It has been said that everyone experiences life in a unique way, so every person would have a different perspective or perception about any given event. These perceptions are affected by emotions or aspects of one's personality, both positive and negative, and may alter them or sometimes be the cause of a perception. For the most part, my perspective on events has been formed with the input of those two factors to the point that they seem almost inseparable.

In the past, I've learned that this is often not a good thing. Most of my biggest mistakes were made because my emotions were involved. The more I think about it, I could have potentially made a lot more if I had openly expressed my initial opinion about a person or situation instead of silencing my emotions and waiting to see what happens. It's not a simple task, but I am working on a "pause button" to allow me to calmly stop and evaluate new things in my life before passing immediate judgment on them.

Emotion and perception have also had an effect on me in other ways. As with everyone else, my personality is a mixture of both good and bad traits. I believe these traits have been formed with the influence of my emotions. Despite my strengths, my flaws are that I can be a fearful, jealous, selfish, demanding, and resentful person. I realize that these are my problems particularly regarding my relationships with those closest to me. This is probably why my close friends can be counted on less than one hand. Those negative traits have also contributed to me being in a kind of antisocial bubble, which also doesn't help make friends. I tend to keep to myself for that is where I feel safest.

About a year ago, I met someone who pulled me out of my comfort zone. Meeting him has changed my life and the experience has taught me to be more open with someone else and trust that person without being afraid. He has since become my best friend and having him for support reminds me of how necessary friendships are. That's not to say that learning to trust him was easy at first, in fact, sometimes it still can be difficult, but that trust has never once been broken and every time afterward I have felt ashamed for my doubt.

I have decided. This next school year I am going to start a serious effort to make new friends, but at the same time strengthen instead of neglect the friendships I already have. If a fresh start was possible, I would choose it. Since that can't happen, I would appreciate it if the people I already know give me a chance.

The Last Airbender: or, Death by Dialogue

A movie based on Avatar: The Last Airbender had so much potential. It was capable of being an epic movie series. Finally, a film has been made, much to the unfortunate torture of the viewers.

M. Night Shyamalan has a lot of nerve. On his most recent project (called, rather creatively, The Last Airbender) he dared to add his typical credit "written, produced, and directed by...". Herein lies the films biggest flaw: Shyamalan's script. The script fails on nearly every level. Some lines are worse than in the unforgivably bad film adaption of Eragon. It has no humor, terribly done exposition, and characters who "have no inner monologue". The television series was better written by unknowns in comparison to the film version, which was penned by the supposedly skilled writer-director of The Sixth Sense. The performances are also noticeably lacking, in particular from Noah Ringer and Nicola Peltz, who respectively play the leading roles of Aang and Katara. Their emotionless interpretations are not helped by Shyamalan's dialogue.

On the positive side, the effects are nice and the sets are truly eye candy (that is, when one's eyes are not strained by the tacked-on 3D). Unfortunately, this aspect is only ever a contributing factor which cannot save a movie with a bland script, case-in-point James Cameron's Avatar.

When I walked into the theater, I came determined to like The Last Airbender, despite the overwhelmingly negative feedback. I've seen worse movies, but also much better ones. Regretfully, it is a film that I won't jump at the chance to watch again. See it at your own risk!

Keep Dreamin'

According to Dictionary.com, the first definition of a dream is "a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep." I think dreams are fascinating. Are they merely entertainment for the mind while a person is sleeping, or do dreams exist for a deeper purpose?

The nature of dreaming is so mysterious, yet what little concrete information we have about them is what makes them so interesting to me. From the oh-so-reliable Wikipedia, memorable dreams most commonly go together with REM sleep, while forgettable ones are most likely to take place during non-REM periods of sleep. Where my interest is concerned, though, the site has no solid information for what the meaning of dreams are. Then again, this is Wikipedia we're talking about. I doubt that any higher profile site could provide more clues, their guess is as good as mine.

Most of my dreams are randomly compiled bits of memories and thoughts made into one. While others are not based on reality at all. Only a few are formed from recent events in my life, while most come from obscure memories. If I think back far enough, my dreams start to mix with my earliest memories, then it becomes hard to distinguish between the two. That prompts the next question: at what age do memories begin? Another blog, another time.

I believe that dreams can potentially serve multiple purposes. On one level they can be viewed as brief escapes from the real world that are in the end harmless with no effect on one's life while awake. However, they may also be an outlet for a person's subconscious thoughts and emotions, an opportunity to express themselves without the chance of being judged. I think this is very healthy. In other cases, some dreams play on a person's worst fears, often (for me, at least) making use of these emotions. They can provide a painfully honest evaluation of yourself, and maybe be a useful way to discover how you really feel.

I have thought about making a serious effort to write down or at least remember my dreams upon waking up. If I challenge myself to stay committed to it, I may be able to reflect on them and that exercise could be unbelievably beneficial.

Camp Sherwin Stories

As promised, here is my blog about all those Labor Day Weekends at Camp Sherwin. I have so many fond memories of going to Camp that there is no way that I could possibly list them all here. Instead, I've selected the most memorable and/or infamous Camp stories.

Where to begin? At the beginning, of course! The Camp Sherwin tradition started when my dad was a kid as a trip with his immediate family. It has since grown to include most of my extended family on my dad's side who meet at Camp every Memorial and Labor Day Weekend.

Camp Sherwin allows visitors three options about staying in the campground: tents, space for campers, or rented cabins. As far back as I can remember, my extended family has rented two or three cabins closer to the camp entrance, while my immediate family have used Cooks Cabin, on the far end of Camp. The inside of our cabin has a room on either side with bunk beds, a kitchen area in the middle, and a bathroom (having a private one is a luxury, most cabins do not include it and communal bathrooms are the only option).

One night, after finally getting to sleep despite the thin, uncomfortable mattresses and perpetual squeaking of the metal bunk beds, I woke up in extreme pain on the wooden floor. I had apparently rolled off the bed (thankfully the lower bunk) and fallen to the floor face first, hard enough to knock both of my front teeth out. Despite the long-term awkwardness of having my teeth gone, it payed off the next morning. I must have made close to $20 from my family out of sympathy for my premature tooth loss.

One of my favorite places to go at Camp Sherwin is the beach. Camp was built near Lake Erie, so the beach is a relaxing, if a bit rocky, place to spend an afternoon and a spectacular place to watch the sun set. There is also plenty of beach glass and some of the samples I found on my most recent trip are great! Unfortunately, though, Camp is built on the edge of steep cliffs with the beach at the bottom. You can get to the beach two ways, either by taking a zig-zagging staircase through the woods to the beach, or by climbing the cliffs. Common sense took the back seat when on one occasion I chose the second option. Before I knew it, I slipped maybe ten feet and was freaking out before I managed to make it to the beach on all fours. Luckily, other people were there to help or I would have been stranded.



















Camp Sherwin's beach seems to go on forever, and I haven't taken the time to explore a lot of it, instead I normally stay close to the stairs to get back up to Camp. There is a cement pier not too far from the stairs. A few years ago I remember feeling unusually adventurous and deciding to jump off the edge of the pier. The water was at the most five feet deep with sand at the bottom so the landing did not hurt. It would have been a perfectly harmless if not for the rusty but potentially dangerous metal spikes sticking out from the end of the pier. Fortunately, I didn't jump close enough to hurt myself. It was a fun experience, but not something I would ever try again.






I wish I could write more about my Camp Sherwin trips but to include them all would take up too much space. Going to Camp has become one of my favorite things to do all year. I hope that future visits will be just as fun and memorable.

Luck

Does luck exist? I'm debating whether or not it does. Do things happen in one way or another for someone's benefit or misfortune, or are they all preplanned events, or can anyone get lucky at random?

In some ways I lean toward the belief that luck does exist. I consider myself lucky to be the way I am. I would be better off if I was 100% normal, but since that won't change I consider myself quite lucky by comparison. In other words, it was my stroke of good fortune! (I've kept my day job after that one)

At the same time, though, I doubt my own theory about luck once I consider the people with severe CP. Was it just their luck that they happen to be the way they are, or was having CP or any disease/disorder part of some kind of plan (I like to think that someone up there isn't conspiring against them). Is my Cerebral Palsy, let alone how mild it is, just a random circumstance?

What if everyone has a personal plan? Is it okay to mess with it? It must be, because as far as I know my plan is a mystery, if there is such a thing at all. I guess faith is the key word here. Maybe the "plan" isn't exactly that, but rather an introduction followed by a blank outline, like preparing to write an essay. Maybe each person is set to begin their life in their individual and unique situation, whatever it may be, then from there they are on their own. That would support free will. Does God intervene at all? The questions are endless...

There must be an answer. However, I think that it is not something that human beings are meant to comprehend because thinking about it is so overwhelming. Again, faith is the only answer I can come up with. God is good.

Where to Go

I had this thought recently about my CP. I've been chewing on it for the past few weeks. Perhaps writing about it will help...after all, what else is this blog for?

Should I feel a need to help other people with CP? By this I mean volunteer work. Is advocating our cause enough, or is it just a lazy excuse for doing nothing? Did I even have the right to start that Facebook group if I have no intention of working with the United Cerebral Palsy of Nashville? I wonder if that makes me a hypocrite?

I'm coming to realize just how lucky I really am. My disorder could be a lot worse, and (I really) thank God it's non-progressive. I am convinced that my mild case is a blessing, if only one in disguise. The damage from my disease ( so sorry to offend you, politically-correct U.C.P. Nashville!) is much more emotional than it ever was physical. So...why not help myself, since I have this blessed opportunity. Looking at it this way and not taking it for granted, I can quit moping and seize my chance.

This may sound selfish, but I see it from a different angle. If I decide to help others with Cerebral Palsy in the future, for instance, via adoption, I could (if I had plenty of money) do so without pressure or feelings of obligation. The fact that I can move, talk, and fit in well enough with the normal population is itself a gift to be thankful for. Besides, If I do say so myself, the people I would help would probably see me as a role model for others with mild cases, but what good is a role model who hasn't successfully achieved any of their own goals?

It's not that I do not care about other people with Cerebral Palsy, since living with it sucks, and people with severe cases will need care for a lifetime. I hope I do not come across as bragging in this blog, because that is not my point. I'm just putting to words how I honestly feel.

Vacationing with the Crosses

I can't wait to go on vacation! It is now my summer break from school and we are planning a big road trip in a few days. We make our road trips annually every summer but this one is special. Our destination is Erie, Pennsylvania. We are having a family reunion, the first after a long, 16-year hiatus!

My immediate family typically goes to Erie at least once a year, and most of our summer vacations have been there. Normally at least one night of our stay consists of a huge get together at someone's house with our extended family, the majority of whom live in Erie. What marks the difference between that and this year's family reunion is that many family members (besides us, of course!) from far outside the Erie city limits will be attending.

Not only that, but it will be held at Camp Sherwin, a old favorite gathering place for our family. Camp Sherwin is a YMCA-owned campsite in the Erie area, and it holds so many memories for me! I have been to the camp almost every Labor Day weekend since I was born, so it's bound to be another great experience. I have so many stories of Camp that I want to blog about, but I promise to make that the topic a future entry.

Next comes part 2 of my vacation: after the family reunion I'm going back to Detroit to visit friends. I have known most of my old pals from Daytwa since I was in diapers and this will be the first time in SIX YEARS that I will have the chance to see any of them! This is going to be awesome and we will be able to have a reunion of our own! I wonder how much they have changed. We've kept in contact with each other via Facebook, but I can't wait so see them in person.

I'll take lots of pictures and blog some more about the trip when I get back, but for now patience is truly a virtue!

Greeting Mr. Milton

My Giles Milton Collection
(Big Chief Elizabeth could not make it to the photo shoot. It is currently on loan to a friend.)

I love to read. It is one of my favorite hobbies. I used to read fiction almost exclusively, but have now switched over to mostly non-fiction. Specifically I like reading popular history. In the past year or so, I discovered this British author named Giles Milton, who specializes in the genre. I have since become practically addicted to his books and they are now my most common choice in reading material.

The first book of his that I read was called Big Chief Elizabeth. It retells the true story of the "lost" colonists of Roanoke. It was non-fiction, but reads like an adventure novel. It was so good that reading it became compulsive for me. I was actually sad by the time I reached the end, so I could tell the book was good enough to re-read. It had me hooked.

After that, I was surprised to find that his later book, Samurai William, was just as good and as readable. I thought to myself, "This guy is GOOD!".

Currently I'm reading another one of his books. As I could tell from its full title, White Gold: the Extraordinary Story of Thomas Pellow and Islam's One Million White Slaves, it is something less than politically correct and definitely history that won't be found in a school textbook. I admire Milton's boldness in that regard. Another thing I like about him is that he can find a virtually forgotten story and successfully make it interesting and fun to read for someone like me who knows little to nothing about the subject matter.

Another one of his works that sounds fascinating is The Riddle and the Knight. It explores the story of one Sir John Mandeville, who claimed to have journeyed across the globe and recounted his story in a rather fantastical memoir. Interestingly, Milton combines Mandeville's story with a modern day travelogue in which he retraces the knight's steps to prove whether or not his story was true. I plan to read that soon.

Milton himself is also a world traveler. As research for his books, he has traveled to the Americas, in Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Japan. Being able to experience all those different cultures must be great. WHAT A DREAM JOB!! I bet his trips to foreign countries are what really helps add that sense of realism that plays a large part in what makes his books so great. I would love to meet him someday, he must be such an interesting person. I hope he keeps writing his popular histories, because I'll be sure to keep reading them.

The Missing Piece

I was born with Cerebral Palsy. Even though it is a mild case, I hate it with a passion. Often I wonder why I have it. Only 2 in a 1000 babies are born with it. I think having CP is the kind of thing that some normal people (at least privately) are thankful happened to someone else other than them. To be fair, can you blame someone for thinking that? Having severe Cerebral Palsy is a living nightmare. Mild CP is not nearly as awful, but I still can't help but ask myself "What did I do wrong that the other 998 babies did right?".

Cerebral Palsy affects motor skills and movement. For me, the right half of my body is the side with CP. The left half functions normally. CP's affects on me include awkward posture and gait, toe walking (which I no longer have to deal with), a strength difference between my right and left sides, and an lessened sense of touch on my right side. I am also left-handed, which I believe is adapted from the weaker right side, which under normal circumstances would have been dominant. I also have epilepsy, although I have not had a seizure in several years.

To control the toe walking, I used to have to wear a leg brace. It covered the area from the middle of my right calf to my toes. The brace was made of hard, translucent plastic and attached to my leg with velcro straps. It forced my leg into a fixed position so that I could not toe walk. It was such a pain to wear. More often than not I would just take it off and walk "naturally". I toe walked up until the 4th grade. I had a heel cord lengthening surgery that has ended the toe walking ever since. The surgery was a significant improvement on my walking, but traces of my Cerebral Palsy still remain.

Harder than accepting that I have CP is the fact that there is no reason for it. I have Cerebral Palsy...but why? I think the lack of a definite answer is like trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle but missing a piece. I won't be able to see the whole picture, but what if I'm not supposed to? Maybe there's a point to me having it. Was my CP something that God gave to me? Why me? Is it a punishment, or does He have something to prove? No one knows...I just can't help being curious.

I hate my Cerebral Palsy, but I don't want to just sit around and whine about how unfair life is (even though that's the truth). My CP could be worse, but I'm still not satisfied with it. During my Freshman year, I decided to prove myself capable of doing everything normal people can. I thought that in order to do that, I would need to challenge myself by going against CP's effect on me, in other words, being athletic. I started with track and working out. I quit track and then tried wrestling next. After two broken collarbones in a calendar year, I decided to sit it out with that, too.

Even though I was not making progress at first, I have made strides with working out in the past year. I took a weightlifting class at school and daily workouts plus help from a friend has put me on the right track to reaching my goal. I am even now starting to see a noticeable difference since last August. I'm not even close to my goal yet, but I am proud of it.

My point with this is that I want to "conquer" my Cerebral Palsy. Even though I will have it forever, maybe I will have succeeded at feeling better about myself, if nothing else. I hope it works.

Beginnings: the Most Difficult...

My name is Ricky Cross.

I was born in Detroit, Michigan in 1992. I lived in the Detroit area for the first eleven years of my life before my family moved to Franklin, Tennessee in April of 2004. I was born with a mild case of Cerebral Palsy but I'll save that for another blog ( I want to keep my intro short). My first few years in Franklin were difficult, but now I have transitioned to living here and enjoy it. I even have made a few friends since then.

I have just completed my junior year of high school. I make good grades and excel at English and history, rather than math and science. I'm am really excited about college but still don't know where I want to go or what I want to do.