As Promised

Hey Gang!

I know I've been teasing another sliver of the, "The Plunge" for awhile now, but haven't gotten around to doing it. This morning as I've been editing before the standard 6-hour weekend trip to buy things for our house, I thought I'd follow through. So without further adieu, please enjoy a small piece of two-years of hard work.

American Engagements

There hasn’t been a bigger scam perpetrated on modern society than the prevailing thought that engagement rings are a time-honored tradition, and that all men MUST buy their woman a diamond that stretches the boundary of reason and reality. Blame really belongs to every person who has raised their little girl to be a princess that would one day be carried off on a white stallion by an Armani-clad, Mercedez prince. Combine that with ‘gotta have it society,’ and you’ve got a woman expecting a diamond engagement ring that costs months of salary.
Every man who has to save every scrap of pocket change for months to buy his bride-to-be something that meets her approval can thank De Beers and their masterful job of duping the civilized world into obligatory engagement ring purchases. In the late 1910s, diamond sales were down thanks to the discovery of African mines that caused diamond prices to freefall. De Beers created a marketing campaign, and the now vomit-inducing slogan, “A Diamond is Forever,” and changed engagements into materialistic, cookie cutter occasions no longer reserved for the exclusively wealthy. Every holiday season our senses are bombarded with jewelry advertising, creating the formulaic equation that love equals gold and jewels.
“If you love her, you’ll buy her diamonds,” suggest commercials and magazine ads.
Marketing wizards at DeBeers enlisted movie stars as spokespeople who brandished diamond rings, and when coupled with that catchy slogan, men were bamboozled into buying diamonds for women for all sorts of occasions. Men all got hit in the wallets, because mass media and social pressure told their women that their man wasn’t a real man unless he bought big, nice diamonds. So much for being there through thick and thin, providing a shoulder to cry on and be a shelter from the storm; because if you really loved her you’d go into mountainous debt to buy her a diamond ring. And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned, is that conventional wisdom says love doesn’t mean anything without the bling.
Women get ridiculous rings and men get a pat on the back or the envy of other women who want their men to buy them similar or better jewelry than their friend has. And if you’re a dude that gets outdone by a friend on a diamond, then I feel sorry for you. You’re perpetually behind the 8-ball, because ‘his was bigger.’ As if we didn’t have to live THAT one down often enough.
The whole process just sucks, and I mean sucks. So let me get this straight, I’m a good guy because I bought out a huge diamond ring, which required me to sell a kidney and half of my liver for the down payment? Really? Perhaps it would be easier for me to swallow if women received engagement rings and men in return got engagement big-screen televisions, or engagement beer mini-refrigerators. Then we’re talking about a win-win for everyone, with equality to be had for all! Well, as long as women have to blow two months’ salary, too. Otherwise it wouldn’t be equal, right?

Amazing Happens

Sometimes life throws you small snippets of what's possible. And it's when you don't expect it, too. After week upon week of crap, there are rays of sunshine that peak through the clouds.

Tom Watson, a 59-year-old golfer, almost did the unthinkable. He almost won the British Open. Age is just a number, and it's never too late. It's never, never too late. Of course he fell short in playoff holes, perhaps a victim of old age and tired legs. He'd won the tournament before, but that was twenty years before. It was almost a miracle. It was a ray of sunshine, at least for me.

This weekend my wife and I went to see the Terra Cotta Warrior exhibit at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Though it was short, it was truly amazing. The long, tenuous work on a megalomaniac's desire to live forever uncovered for a world to see. I don't recommend you pay full-price, though. It was really that short.

Last week was really, really long, and I don't feel like I got to rest-up for the week to come. Thank God for caffeine and its mystical charm of raised blood pressure and alertness.

So get this, I've started on the third rewrite of 'The Plunge', and I got through 40 pages today and didn't focus on it too much. That's really good news, because I think I'm going to be done with it fairly quickly. From there it goes to edit, then back to me for the final revision. We are really, really close to having a finished product. God only knows if it'll ever get published. That's my dream, though. And if not, I have a certain zombie novel and two other ideas I'm pretty high on!

This Tuesday marks the release of "The Watchmen" and "Coraline" on Blu-Ray. I'll be picking both up to watch this coming weekend. This Friday my wife and I are going to see "The Phantom of the Opera." I've never seen any iteration of the show, so I'm looking forward to it. Oh, and I bought a Michael Jackson CD. Please make fun of me. I deserve it, especially after my last blog entry.

You know what we need? A hurricane!

I'm not talking about Hurricane Ike-level destruction, more of a really strong tropical storm and maybe, just maybe a category one hurricane. Why you ask? Well, when there's a storm brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, the city of Houston shuts down for a few days. Plus it's straight drought-land around here. If we could get three days of no work and ten inches of rain, it'd be dreamy. I think we all can agree that work sucks. It sucks hard. A paid, rain-drenched vacation is better than no vacation at all.

I'm approximately 20 minutes away from watching the premiere of the new season of HBO's 'Entourage.' I remember in 2004 when my buddy and I got hooked on the series. It came on after Ali G. (Borat and Bruno) I became enamored with the show, and a daydreamed about living the sort of high-flying Hollywood lifestyle that a movie star and his posse lives. The closest I got was owning a Corvette that I couldn't afford. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to the new season, which begins in just a few minutes!

Today I couldn't help but become ensnared by one of the dozens of Michael Jackson specials that have riddled the television landscape for the past week. You know, I actually sat down and thought about the King of Pop and his legacy on our culture. Beyond the shadow of the doubt, he's one of the greatest performers of all time. His musical trail leaves a path of genius, but let's not get crazy. His death is not the low point of anyone's existence. Let's keep it in perspective. It's sad he's gone, but he's been irrelevant in America for a decade unless he's on CNN for a molestation trial. Rest in Peace, Michael. Now let's move on.

In my race to finish writing books and attempts keep up with my seemingly endless string of hobbies, it's come to my attention that I don't sleep anymore. On a good night, I get six hours. On a typical night, I get five or less. After dozing off at the keyboard at work and finally getting physically ill, I've decided to go to bed in a timely fashion, eat well and get back to a regular exercise routine. By doing these things I hope to be ultimately more productive. I'm bringing the old me back. Except that, you know, I'm not giving up beer. No way, not ever.

And there's good news. The second rewrite of 'The Plunge' is now complete! Tomorrow begins work on my third rewrite before I turn it over to my editor and complete the final draft. So, I'm shooting for a September completion date to have the final copy. Then it's on to 'Waterglade.' Speaking of my zombie-thriller, I read over a few chapters the other night. I'm getting a good feeling about it. But then again, we all know how that goes.

Have a great week. Until next time....

The Curious Case of Lemony Snickets

The July 4th holiday came, and the July 4th holiday went. Now it's time to put on my finely-creased twill dress pants and make the two hour round trip to walk amongst the rest of the living dead.

I finally caught-up on sleep for the first time in three weeks. I've been going hard at work, and it's left me sick with some sort of head congestion or something. My wife and I had a fine time with her family over the weekend. Now we're back home and hunkering down for yet another week in the fray.

I swear to God there's a show called, "Say Yes to the Dress," which chronicles the adventures of brides-to-be as they try to pick out a wedding dress. That saga hits a bit too close to home for me.

Did anyone know that we're about two months away from the kickoff of the NFL season? It's not long until it's beer and chicken wings every Sunday for 12 hours while my wife helps me keep track of my fantasy team.

Anyone notice that unemployment is at 9.5 percent?

My writing is well...it's on going. It hasn't stopped, really, but it's become harder than Tom Sizemore (might have used that joke in the blog, can't remember) to find the energy at the end of the day. Someone has mentioned using Vista's voice recognition software, which eases the process somewhat. Now it's all about finding the time to make that happen. I'm feeling okay about getting the first rough draft cranked out pretty quick. As I predicted, I've now begun to think that the whole book sucks and needs to be dumped in the trash. I know I've always said that no matter what I'd publish it, but if I'm not going to get published for airing out all of my dirty wedding laundry, then I don't know if I'll ever let anyone read it...ever. I'm just in one of those moods where I hate everything. It's sure to change any minute.

I finally saw the David Fincher (Fight Club, Seven) directed 'Curious Case of Benjamin Button.' I bought it three weeks ago and my wife and I sat down to watch it this afternoon. I must it was a stirring and artistic portrait of a 'curious' situation. One thing I took away from it was, that it is truly never too late to do something; it's never too late to start. I'm happy I saw that movie today. Thoughts like that help me get up every day. Well there's that thought and the Floyd Mayweather fight coming up.

Until next time...

The Song of the Century

Alas, it's only 8:35 a.m., but the mounting sadness that comes with the inevitability of Monday is wrapped around my back like a 200 pound gorilla. I usually don't start to feel this way until later on the evening, but today it has hit earlier. The one saving grace concerning the coming week is that it's a holiday week. I will be off on Friday in observance of July 4th. There's a break.

So, my life is relatively quiet these days. It's scorching outside, with temperatures regularly parking themselves at the 100 degree mark. It is so ridiculously hot that it's miserable. Just the walk to the car in the morning causes me to sweat through my button-up, resulting in salty, white stains. It's disgusting, and boy I can't wait for winter.

Sorry to sound be so depressing. It's just that these truly are the dog days of summer, and it's difficult to get excited about them anymore. There is hope, however. We are just months away from the kickoff of both college and professional football. That is the preoccupation that spawns dozens of daydreams throughout the week. They're games on at least four days a week, and the sports landscape is teeming with news of injuries, feuds and trades. And there's always fantasy football. I picked-up my fantasy football guide for the 2009 season last week, and I'm already studying for my 2009 campaign that hopefully results in a league championship.

This past week I finished 11 pages of the re-write. While that's not as much as I'd like to get done, it's still something. As long as I'm making progress everyday, as long as I continue the fight to get published, I'm doing something constructive. After my wife's Sunday Morning errands (I was told there would be none today), the rest of the day will be left to do whatever. Aside from typical house chores (clothes washing, possible lawn-mowing), I do plan to catch-up on a movie or two and get a couple of hours of writing done. Depending on what's finished today, there's a slight, and I do mean slight chance that this week I could complete the first re-write (It's really the second re-write, but I'm calling it the first).

And there is an excerpt coming. I don't know what it'll be, but I will be posting one soon. Keep a look out for it. Plus I'm trying to find someone to create a custom layout for my blog. Eventually I'll segway to Facebook and possibly Twitter, but for now the blog will be the main way I 'socially network.'

Until next time...

Red is the Color of Panic

Today was one of those 'Office Space' days. I can't count the number of times today that I stopped mid-sentence and wondered what in the hell transpired that led me to where I am today. Seriously, I stopped in the middle of conversation and pondered.

Today was also a sad, sad day. My wife learned that Jon and Kate of the ever-popular, "Jon and Kate Plus 8," (which exploits the fertility medication-bred of offspring of this dysfunctional couple), are getting a divorce. Wow. There you have it. Somehow, I think the world will keep turning tomorrow. Well....maybe.

By the way, did you know that there's a reality show about choosing wedding dresses? There's also a series (not a show, but a series) on MTV called "Pregnant and 16," which exploits 16-year-old high school gals that have unfortunately become knocked-up at a way too young age. Not only is it shameful that this show exists, but it's shocking to know that it's a series! Do you know what that means? It means that there's more than one 16-year-old 'misguided' young lady to create a whole slate of shows on the topic. Awesome.

Moving on...

I'm on the homestretch of the first re-write of "The Plunge." God it's taking a long time. It's almost taking too much time, and at times, it almost makes me want to take a long-term hiatus. When I first tried to make a schedule for submitting my work for representation, I anticipated being finished with BOTH manuscripts by the end of June. Obviously, that's not going to happen. I'll be lucky to get "The Plunge" done by the end of the month. But so far I'm hanging in there, not being deterred by the delays (because of life events). As of now, I'm on page 280 of the re-write, with about another 30 to go. You'd think it wouldn't take long, but as I'm trudging toward the end, I'm noticing that the writing got pretty bland on my first go round. I think it's because I was tired and just wanted to finish. I was to give a 'moving target' guess of when this draft will be done, it's by the 4th of July. From there I'll start the second re-write before moving to the third.

Okay gang, it's off to bed. I'm falling asleep at the keyboard.

Until next time...

Wake me up When September Ends

Funerals are typically the last place on Earth I'd rather be. There's something about them, perhaps the atmosphere, the tears and glum faces--the general ambiance isn't warm and cuddly.



Today was the funeral of my wife's grandmother, who'd been battling pancreatic cancer ever since I'd had to the pleasure to get to know her. Over a hundred people came to pay their last respects to a woman who by all accounts was one of this world's true gems. And it's not often one can say that these days, with all of the adversity and the evolution surrounding the modern American family.

Death causes me to ponder my own fate, my own life. When I was a little kid, I don't quite recall ever wanting to grow-up to be a Director of Finance at a business school. Admittedly, I gave-up wanting to play professional basketball in junior high when I realized 6-foot white guys who can't jump rarely make it to the NBA. Then I began to summize where I wanted to be forever. The depressing part is, is that I'm no closer to discovering that reality than I was 15 years ago.

Lots of people define their lives by how much money they make. Where are they on the good 'ole corporate ladder before they reach their ceiling. Days of slumming two hours a day in the car, followed by 9 hours of party-planning, reports and conference calls for thirty years isn't exactly what I call living. Unfortunately, that's the track I'm on now. I always swore that would never be me, but now, that's road I'm on right now. It's not too late for me to change course, but I'm now to the point where it might be all that's there for me. You know, that might just be okay.

I can be a husband and one day a father, and I can work twelve hour days, commute, sleep five hours a day and be a good person. I can raise my children to be good people, and provide for them everything in the world. Money is nice, but in the end, it's just you and your Maker. Maybe one day I'll have a family that loves me, and at my funeral everyone who's ever known me can attest that I was a good man. I suppose that's not a bad ending, either.

On a lighter note...The Ghostbusters Videogame came out this week, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to pass it up along with the Blu Ray release of the original film on its 25th anniversary. The game sports the prime cast members reprising their roles with a script written by Harold Ramis and Dan Akroyd. Wait, I think I just talked myself into it.

Oh and by the way, I'm watching some show about a husband and wife that have sextuplets. Of course, my wife has this on as I sit writing on the floor. Now, tell me what's to fascinating about two people feeding kids, cleaning the house and going to the grocery store? Oh, that's right; there's SIX kids! That makes it so much better. And we just learned that the father is obese, and he's complaining about drinking protein shakes. Wow, I take protein shakes everyday, too! Why is this crap on television, and more importantly, why is my wife watching it?

Until Next Time...