Monday, April 19, 2021

What Do You See?





Edgar Degas, France 1834-1917, "In a Cafe" (alt. title "L'Absinthe" - absinthe is a type of liquor) 1852

 

                                Edward Hopper, America 1882-1967, "Nighthawks" 1942

What Do You See?

The paintings, "In a Cafe" also called "L'Absinthe," painted in 1852, by Edgar Degas, and

"Nighthawks," painted in 1942, by Edward Hopper has many similarities while still being unique. At a

professional level or an amateur level, art remains one of the major forms of human expression, an artist

is trying to communicate.

From commercials with cartoon characters smoking cigarettes to magazine ads with

doctors recommending a certain brand of cigarette, tobacco has been enjoyed and admired by society 

for decades until the advancement of medical science that now advises against the consumption of 

tobacco products. In a café, a well-dressed man can be seen with a wooden pipe in his mouth and in the 

painting Nighthawks, a billboard advertisement for Phillies, a type of cigar that still exists in a store 

near you. The wooden tobacco pipe, In a café depicts, was a common device used to consume tobacco 

in 1852. Considering all the ways one can now consume tobacco, the tobacco pipe has become a less

common method to use tobacco. This becomes clear in Nighthawks; the wooden pipe is now replaced 

by a more modern and convenient method to use tobacco, the Cigar. The desire to consume 

tobacco now consumes both eras. One method is just more modern than the other.

             Dressing well has always been a luxury. From kings wearing gold to Gucci suits, money can 

buy you the finest. The people in both paintings are dressed well, so to speak, from a lovely hat the lady

is wearing in L-absinthe to the blue suit with a grey fedora, the man is wearing in Nighthawks. The only

one not dressed luxuriously is the waiter at the diner in Nighthawks, he does not have the luxury to do 

so. As he must tend to the patrons.

            The couple in L-absinthe, dress very nicely, as does the woman at the diner in Nighthawks, with

her bright red dress. Both couples could very well be on a big night out. Someone could question while

viewing both paintings, “Is it their first stop or last stop?” That is the beauty of such a capture, one that

can be pulled directly from real-time. Both artists do this well in these paintings.

            Both paintings are snapshots taken of a social environment. Nighthawks takes place at a diner,

while L'Absinthe takes place in a café. Coffee can be seen in Nighthawks while Absinthe is being

served in the painting In a café. The alcoholic beverage Absinthe was illegal in the United States

because of the toxic properties it contained. Until regulations on the measurement of toxic herbs used to

create the beverage were put into place in 2007. Diners in the U.S.A around 1942, would not be serving

up this drink. But in France in the year 1852, the toxic drink could be enjoyed regularly. The darkness 

that surrounds the diner is illuminated by the bright, welcoming lights on the ceiling of the diner. The 

light In a café comes from somewhere unseen, but it comes from in front o the couple in the painting 

because their shadows can be seen cast behind them. The darkness from Nighthawks comes from the 

structures that exist beyond the diner. They are vacant, not occupied late at night. Sepia tones bring 

darkness to the painting L-Absinthe. These reddish-brown tones can be seen in the lady’s dress as well 

as the booth, the couple is seated at.

            The colors are bright and vivid in Nighthawks. From the countertops to empty shelves across the

street of the diner, vivid colors are seen on the buildings and sidewalks, illuminated by the diner light.

The colors in L-absinthe are dark, muted, and hazy, even with all the light colors that are seen 

throughout the painting cannot overcome the haziness of the matte colors that make the painting look 

heavy.

            In a café adds more weight to the heaviness of the overall painting when observing the focal

point. The look of despair on the woman’s face could tell a story all on its own. It is haunting, much 

like the emptiness felt when being alone in a crowded room like the late-night atmosphere of 

the diner in Nighthawks. The diner has a bigger group of people than the café, yet both paintings 

display an equal amount of loneliness. The blank silent stares from the customers in the diner shadow 

the sad haunting stare of the lady in the café, both appear to be waiting for something. The lady looks 

to be waiting for the attention of the man as he fixes his gaze elsewhere. Each patron in the diner waits 

in silence. Waiting for anything to break that silence.

            Human expression is a vital tool we use to connect to one another, in person, photographs,

through motion pictures and art. A smile has no language barrier, nor does a frown. The human

expression is our greatest form of communication with each other. Human existence has been

expressed through art for an exceptionally long time. Art that can be found on cave walls, inside the

tombs of kings and from all corners of the earth, in this way, various parallels can be seen in art 

depicting human expression, while remaining distinctive. The artist can connect with an observer 

and communicate directly through the art itself. What do you see? 


 

Friday, February 26, 2021

Have you ever been in danger?

 Dear Reader, 

            Growing up outside of Austin had a few benefits, a good one was having downtown Austin only 25 minutes away.  I was able to experience the downtown night life scene, I even had someone’s ID that allowed me to buy liquor and get into clubs but that is another story for another day.

            From ROT rallies at fifteen to ridiculously expensive lofts I had no business in right off Guadalupe Street at seventeen. I truly did my share of living a fast life, too fast at times and as I get older it becomes harder to remember it all, except for the times I was in actual danger.

Having a close call can really burn a situation into a memory, a memory that often turns into a nightmare waking me up only to stare towards the ceiling with relief of it being over because if this situation went any different, I might not be here to tell it today.

            The high school I transferred to was built in 1998. When I got there in 2001 it was in great shape, especially compared to the 30-year-old high school I transferred from in my hometown. So, my school was built because of the rapid expansion in the region and it hasn't stopped growing. In 2000 the population was 26,049 and today it has grown to 80,844.

The halls of my school reflected the cultural diversity of the growing city that surrounded it. Everything was new, bright, and interesting. My first day was on a Monday, made friends and was out on the town by Friday night. By the time I knew it 4 years had passed, it was the weekend, and it was time to get out and have some fun with friends back in their hometown of San Antonio.

A group of us would get together and head to San Antonio to meet up with friends of friends and their friends of friends. It had become routine, but I could not tell you how to get there to save my life because I never drove.

A quick road trip consisted of catching up and having a great time. We ended up at an apartment complex and everyone was on their patios doing the same thing we had planned. Partying.

The environment was absolutely on point, it felt like a movie and we could no longer stay inside. The get-togethers could be heard all around the complex, calling our names. It was about an hour spent walking around enjoying the various activities that the individual gatherings had to offer until a friend needed a few things and decided she wanted to go back and get them, so a small group of us chose to go with her.

Four of us set off back to the apartment, enjoying each other’s company and completely unaware someone was watching us. As we turn a corner towards the apartment, an older man from a parked beat-up work van calls out to a friend who was just catching up. My friend stops and turns towards this stranger and pauses. The stranger asks calmly “do you know where marks party is at?” the stranger looks over at us and smiles. “No, I don’t.” he replies. The stranger, still looking at us replies with a hushed “well, why don’t we go find it together?”

My nightmare always starts where the encounter starts. It all happened so fast; I often find myself trying to slow it down so I can view it in more detail. The stranger snaps his gaze back to my friend, slams his fist on the side of the vehicle and screams, “GET IN THE FUCKING VAN!” I have never moved so fast in my life; I could have run on water. The vehicle starts up, reverses, and peels out towards the exit of the complex. It becomes a blur, but we all make it to the apartment together and safe.

 The situation was surreal and as we discussed what had happened, at the time we did not fully understand the severity of it all. I usually always try to wake myself up before the nightmare can begin but last night I could not. I turned the corner just in time to see the stranger in a panic, wide eyed and sweating, slamming shut the sliding side door of his beat-up van. He turns towards me, smiles and waves.

                                    Sincerely Yours,

                                                                                Timothy                                                                                                                                            





Wednesday, January 27, 2021

The Day I Felt Nothing Inside.

 

Have you ever experienced racism?

 

I have always tried to look on the bright side of things, even when I was little, I would always cheer for the hero and absolutely detest the villain. Even when the villain had the odds in their favor, I knew eventually their time would run out. Growing up my grandmother would always find ways to show my sisters and I stories from the bible. One of the first books I read growing up was the book of Job, I remember being upset how god would just let the devil destroy the life of one of his servants. My young mind tried to grasp the idea as I read the book, being frustrated as Job was brought to rock bottom. Even the ending when God restored all Job had lost, he did not do it because Job deserved it, God gave it to Job as a gift. Since reading the book the first time I have since read it at least 50 times if not more, each time with better understanding. Trust. The book is about trusting in a God that knows exactly what we have been through, what we are going through and what we will go through.

 

Dear Reader.

 

Working in the oilfield having a holiday off is rare. You basically try to make up lost time with family and events on scheduled days off. One day while starting my work week (which consisted of seven days on call followed by two days off.) Our crew was told a yard in Louisiana was terribly busy and could not keep up with the customers requesting service for their oilwells. We were to travel to Louisiana to assist with servicing several oilwells in the area. We gathered our equipment, packed our bags and began our six-hour journey on a chilly Christmas eve. Cigarettes and sunflower seeds were my solution to the boredom that comes with such a long distance through rural country and the stress of driving an overweight vehicle through a remarkably busy downtown Houston, Tx for the first time.

As we approach the Texas Louisiana state line, the supervisor over our CB radio informs the convoy, “we will need to pull over at a truck stop before crossing the state line.” The convoy pulls over and gathers around to find out some of the vehicles in our group will need an updated IFTA-registration. Essentially, when your vehicle is IFTA-registered, you record the distance traveled in each state or province and pay the appropriate fuel taxes. A mechanic from the yard we were to assist was headed our way with the updated registration. Four hours until we are on the road again. We finally reach our destination. The manager of the yard greeted us and gave us details of the service needed for the customers oilwell and informed us the customer will not be needing service until the next day. Christmas day.

                The crew and I were able to rest before the call to head to location which came in around 3 a.m. as we headed towards the destination my tire blows out. I cannot begin to describe the frustration that had been building since having to miss time with my family on this holiday. The tire on my vehicle was a “super single” not a common tire, so the dispatch had to not only find the special tire but also had to find a towing company willing to come help on Christmas day. 4 hours later a towing service finally arrives, and he does not look happy. He throws his seat belt off, lights a cigar and spits on the ground as he slams his door. I offer a hello which he completely ignores, I try to make small talk with him, and he just looks at me as if I am not there. After putting the tire on and literally throwing tools back into the fleet vehicle he turns towards me, spits on the ground and hands me a receipt. “Here, boy.” The disgust in his tone was something I had never felt before.

                The location of the oilwell was off a county road surround by large trees, trees that appeared to be as tall as buildings and so thick you could not see beyond them. Even with the extremely high lumen lights installed on the oil rig it still could not be seen from the county road. The oil rig was in the middle of running casing pipe down freshly drilled out earth. The third-party company tasked for that process had just finished up and were leaving location. Their crew could be seen from our approach, they looked exhausted and were covered in a mixture of drilling fluids, dirt and sweat. A hard day’s work completed. Our convoy parked the equipment and gathered for a safety meeting. As I am walking towards the meeting area, I cross paths with a worker from the oilrig. He looks me up and down, spits and says out loud, “I thought we got rid of all of them? They’re like roaches the further south you go! Make sure y’alls cars are locked!” he laughed as the others from his crew caught up from behind him. It stopped me in my tracks. For the first time in my life, I felt empty, absolutely nothing. Not mad or sad just blank. Those words cut me in half. From everything I went through to get to that location to every day I had lived had led me to that moment, to be belittled on Christmas day.             Trust.

Job 11:17 Life will be brighter than noonday, and darkness will become like morning.

 

Sincerely Yours

Timothy.



Thursday, January 14, 2021

Stocks & Options.

Do you understand the Stock Market?


Stocks and Options.


    Dear Reader


So, we can begin with what they have in common. They're both tradable securities. options are tradable and stocks are traded, they both have bid and ask prices. Options get bid on the same with stocks and they have asking prices so they're constantly being traded and they're both listed on the exchanges, the same types of exchanges. Basically, those are the three main similarities.

 Now, as far as differences, the main difference with options is they have expiration dates. So, think of an option as a gallon of milk. The moment you place it in your fridge it will begin to expire (decay) becoming literally worthless as the expiration date approaches. Options expire over time whereas a stock can be held for twenty, thirty, forty, ninety years; as long as the company is around but with options there are expiration dates, also with options there is no set number of options, you can create options out of air almost and that is one of the reasons why stocks get a bad rap or options get a bad rap is that there is no set number of options whereas with a stock you might have 20 billion shares you trade it or give your shares from one person to the other person, you're buying it or selling it whereas with options you could just sell an option contract to somebody without really owning that option it's kind of weird how that works but that's another difference. Finally, with stocks you own a piece of the company and you have voting rights with options you don't really own a piece of the company; you're not really contributing to the company and you have no voting rights.

So, those are three main differences that you must be aware of and some of the similarities but, both stocks and options are very tradable, options do expire but they're used as leverage in order to make more but they're also riskier because you have a time horizon expiration because it works like a coupon that has an expiration date. 

                                           Sincerely Yours, 

                                                      Timothy H.





Tuesday, December 15, 2020

A Collide in a Stride.

 Chapter one.

 

    KNOCK KNOCK!!! The bedroom door swings open, hitting the wall with a THUD, interrupting a deep dreamless sleep. "Oh, son I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" Mr. Williams teased. Alex rubs his eyes and turns towards his father, who is slowly walking to his bed side. "Well son, looks like its about that time, you know where you get ready for school." Still in a daze, Alex looks up at his dad towering over him. "Have you ever wanted to sleep forever?" he groaned. "No, son not at all." He places one huge hand on his shoulder and continues. "Because if I were to sleep forever. I would miss you and your mother so much, its unbearable to even think of..." He trails off unloading seven kinds of mushy love, memories, and all the stories Alex can tell you by heart. "Well dad, on that note, I'll be getting up now!" His dad backed away swiftly. "OHHH WELL I WILL NOT APOLGIZE FOR LOVING MY SON!" He stuck his chest out pretending to be some battle scared barbarian. "I HAVE DONE THINGS FOR YOU THAT YOU WOULDNT EVEN DREAM OF DOING!" He throws his arms around Alex and tackles him back onto the twin-size bed with a loud BOOM. Alex tried to laugh... but couldn't breathe. He's reminded of an old memory, five years old and his father is standing tall, flexing his muscles after throwing him on the couch, both of them laughing out of control. 

    "What are you guys doing up there?!" A firm high pitched yell from some where down stairs, Mrs. Williams can be heard amid all the chaos. "Michael, you better quit playing around, you will miss your meeting and Alex is going to be late for school!" she barks.  They look at each other. Michael stands slowly to once again, tower over him and in a monster tone he whispers. "This is not over son!" Using his fingers Alex pretends to put on war paint. "I'll be waiting!" He whispers back. As his father leaves to get ready he takes huge loud steps out of his room. "HEY! Stop all that racket and get ready!" Mrs. Williams has had enough. 

    Alex gets up from his bed and opens the blinds letting the morning light in, the morning sun lights up the room enough to see what he would be choosing to wear today. The sun can be seen through the top of the trees, not a cloud in the sky. "Looks like a hoodie for the morning, that'll be off and rolled up in my bag by noon." he says aloud. The suburbs of Boulder county offer a mix of hot and cold weather through out the days of May. Highs of seventy degrees Fahrenheit when the sun is out, and low forties with cloud cover, sometimes the wind would not blow whatsoever leaving only hot sun rays to heat the day up, today would be one of those days. Shirt and jeans would be just fine, its not like any body notices anyway. He picks out a plain greenish light blue shirt, with a favorite pair of Levi's. A quick visit to the bathroom and the mirror says comb your hair. 

    After a quick brush through its on to cologne. "Now, Alex you have two choices." He proclaims in a game-show host voice. "The blue one, that kind of smells like a woman's perfume." He points to the blue one. "Or the brown one that smells like a Grandpa." Picking up a brown bottle, takes off the cap, points the nozzle towards himself and lets the mist fall on to his shirt and soak in. "Great choice Mr. Alex!" He declares.  "Who you talking to son?" His dad asks from down the hall. Alex locks eyes with his reflection in the mirror. "Myself, pop." he stretches. "Well Alex, they say geniuses and crazy people talk to themselves... so which one are you?" Alex crosses his eyes  his reflection in the mirror the same and responds. "A genius of course." Mr. Williams pokes his head into the bathroom, smiles and quietly signals to an invisible watch on his wrist. "Yes, sir." Alex sighed. 

    They  both walked down stairs. His dad always made it a point that his son knew how lucky he was to live in a home with two floors. Mr. Williams grew up poor, number four of five siblings. Alex could tell anyone his fathers story line for line as he had heard it all of his young life. He knew very well how fortunate they all were. One summer his father took them to where he had grown up, a small Texas town. Alex got to see the home where his father had lived. Seven people living in a three bedroom home, it must've been tough. "Life is what you make it, son." His father always said that, it was his quote. Mr. Williams worked very hard to make damn sure his family would want for nothing, and he loved to remind anyone who would care to listen. His dads life story was more of a cautionary tale, its like he was terrified his only son would go down the wrong path in life and end up homeless or worse.  Alex understood how much his father cared about him and his future, that's why he kept certain things from his dad, if he ever found out about the night life with friends on weekends his father would be having an in-depth talk with him and perhaps ground him for life. 

    The first floor of their home was filled with bohemian décor. Mr. Williams fell in love with a free spirited young woman from Colorado who was studying at The University of Texas at Austin, eleven years his junior, another story Alex could recite word for word by heart. She was celebrating her twenty first birthday, the entire bar had her attention. All the roads he had taken in his life had lead him to this moment, this beautiful young girl standing on top of the bar singing along to Piano Man, surrounded by friends and strangers, with him being the lesser. He would start the story with, "I had twenty dollars to my name, I had to ask your uncle jack for one dollar, to make it twenty one, which I still owe him to this day." He would pause and turn to his wife and continue. "She could've had anyone in that bar that night, but she chose to have a drink with this poor man who offered her twenty one dollars for drinks, a dollar for every year she had lived on this earth."  On que she would reply, "I just wanted the money!" And everyone would laugh. 

    "I made you guys some breakfast sandwiches to-go, maybe tomorrow we can all sit down and have a nice family breakfast." Mrs. Williams, lived for family time. Board games, dinner, movies or just sharing each others day. It didn't matter to her, as long as they were all together, safe in one place.  "Well thanks little lady, and what might be your name?" Mr. Williams said in his best John Wayne draw. "Oh, Michael you should've been an actor." He looked at Mrs. Williams like he did when they first met. "But Emma, if I was an actor, I would be practicing my roles in all the movies my agent would sign me up for and wouldn't have any time for you. I would just miss you to death!" He soothed. They shared a laugh, and hugged each other. 

    Alex had to step around them to grab his breakfast sandwich. Emma broke her gaze from Michael reached in her purse and handed Alex a envelope. "Son, here is a check. Please give it to Mrs. Crabtree, for your lunches this week." She hands him the check, he looks it over and admires her handwriting, handwriting that he could pick out anywhere. "Thanks, but next time can you make it out to me, so I can just cash it behind your back?" None of his parents laughed. Just stared. "Well you guys have a great day, I got to go, almost sure ill be swamped with paperwork." she sighed. "Well Emma, darling just remember without you they wouldn't know what to do. You just keep doing what you are doing, and remember Hawaii is just around the corner, my love." Mr. Williams, always looked at the Brightside of things. "Yes, sir, and I just can not wait!" she gushed with bright eyes. They embraced, followed by a quick kiss. 

    "Alright son lets get out of here!" His father insisted. "Bye, mom." Alex said giving her a hug. "Be sure to eat your sandwich Alex, and have a great Friday." She let him go, and gazed at him with adoring eyes. "That shirt really brings out your eyes, son." He crossed his eyes. "how about now?" she rolled hers. "Bye, son." She laughed and pointed at her husband. "He gets that from you Michael." Mr. Williams threw a thumbs up her way. The father and son duo walk out of the kitchen into the mudroom and into the garage, armed with hot breakfast sandwiches. Ready for the day.


Sincerely Yours,

                                                                 Timothy.






Monday, November 23, 2020

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

 "There are no ghosts in this world. Save those we make ourselves." - Sherlock Holmes. 

If someone were to ask me the question, " do you believe in ghosts?" Instead of offering a YouTube link of captured evidence, a creepy Reddit ghost story or a Facebook group page dedicated to stock piling photos of ghost captures, the only thing I can offer is my personal experience. 

 

 

Dear Reader,

 At twenty two years old, like many at that age, I was extremely irresponsible but only when it came to certain areas of my life. For instance I would go out drinking while I was on call, and show up the following Monday night shift completely hungover. "Make all fair allowance for the mistakes of youth."-Juvenal.  On this day I arrived late to work. Arriving late to work, meant you must report to a field supervisor (which is basically my bosses boss). " Mr. Hernandez, so glad you could join us today." as I calmly take a seat, "I'm so sorry, Insert some sorry excuse." I reply. He pulls out a list of absences. "Save it kid, this one has to be a written one!"  I hang my head, " yes sir." I acknowledged. He didn't seem to care. "After you sign this, Ill drop you off at the worksite. Your crew is already there." 

 I learned a lot working for the city but not from the people running the show. Most of the knowledge I obtained was from the old timers, the men with 5 years left to retire. The ones who grew up in the same city they now serve, from gossip to historical facts, trust me when I say I learned a thing or two about a thing or two.  Driving in silence which felt like an eternity, we finally arrive at my destination which is considered downtown, the oldest part of the city. The location is in middle of  a cul-de-sac, two homes to the right,  an old building to the left with a condo style apartment in the back yard of the building. The old building had a construction fence around it, with a large roll-off dumpster on the front yard, the kind used when renovating an old building. My task that day was to help install a new waste water service line. As I stroll to the excavation site in the window of the old building was a man wearing short sleeve coveralls with his arm in the air offering a "hello" type gesture. I politely wave, returning the gesture, and hang my head as I approach my crew, waiting for the ass chewing coming my way, only to hear laughter. I mange to let out, "yeah, yeah let me have it now so we can all finish this stupid day in peace." Trying his best to control his laughter was Mr. M. "Who were you waving at?" he questioned. Turning back to the building and pointing, I grumble, " some worker in the building, he waved at me so I waved back." He laughs again, " there's no one in there..." He trails off about how the crew working on that house doesn't arrive till 10am. I roll my eyes as Mr. M  was known for playing games and tricks on fellow employees. "Sure bro, anyways..." and we start our work day.

 An hour later at ten o'clock on the dot, the home renovating crew rolls up. " I'll be right back ."  M tells me with a wink and heads in the direction of the workers gathering in the front of the old building.  As I get ready to leave with a dump truck loaded with asphalt and gravel waste, M signals me to get out of the truck and come talk with him. "What's up bro?"  I mumbled. M introduces the foreman of the house. "Hello, I heard you saw someone waving at you in the window." I turn red with embarrassment, "Hey, I believe you," he began "this was an old funeral home owned by the man you saw in the window, he was wearing overalls?" I nod my head and he continues. "You know they say if you see him in the morning it means you will have a stripe of good luck!" Then he lowers his voice. " But if you see him at night, he supposedly follows you home..." he trails off about the legend, offering examples of validity. "So you're saying ill have good luck?" Both M and the foreman laugh at my reply. " Yes, that's what that means, you know, if you believe in stuff like that." he laughs, shakes my hand and pats me on the shoulder.  The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, we got the job done safety without incident. I clock out that day, and M is waiting for me in the parking lot. "When you gonna see that good luck?" It's six o'clock and the sun is down, its chilling with a wet breeze from the coast. "I have no idea M, maybe someday soon." he laughs at that reply and we end the work day with a ,"later." 

  I needed fuel for the rest of the work week, so I decided to get it over with and stop at a gas station before I went home to my one bedroom apartment. I'm fueling up and a thought comes to mind. "Good luck." I've never liked to gamble, the way I see it,  if I lose money I might as well have ate the cash that I lost. "Good luck." I had a twenty dollar bill in my wallet, I never carrying cash, (that's an entire different story). But today I had that bill from a long weekend, and I was gonna put this good luck theory to the test. The twenty dollar lotto ticket burned a hole in my pocket on the way home. "Good luck." When I got home I wanted my nightly routine lined out before scratching the ticket, so I placed it on the dining table and proceeded with shower, shave, and dinner. With a hot dish consisting of my grandmas left-over cooking from the weekend, I scratch the first number revealing a one hundred dollar sign. "Good luck." The second number, the same. All in all, the numbers revealed five one hundred dollar signs and the game was called Five of Five.

 

"Good luck." I whispered. 

 

 

Sincerely Yours,

  

Timothy.

 

 

 


Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Dream Big.

 "Dreams don't work unless you do." 

        Do you have a dream? 

Is it of the future? Perhaps to correct the past? If you're anything like me, you have had several dreams, some became reality and some fell to pieces before they even started. In my short lifetime no matter the dream I've always kept one quote in mind, "some of us may never see the world." 

 

Dear Reader,

  Imagination can fuel lots of things, like turning a living room into an enormous castle surrounded by  an endless wasteland, scourged earth or a cursed forest.

Growing up, the scenarios my sisters and I would create with our minds;  a vast empire ruled by a  Beautifully vile queen that had ever ruled a domain. (played by my oldest sister Amber) she would layout her master plan to trap the princess in an Endless sleep, a tangled maze, or on a forbidden island. The princess, (played by my youngest sister.) was the damsel in distress, and the hero prince, (played by yours truly) the prince of all the land set to rule after he can prove his worth and bring his sister back to the kingdom. These scenarios would keep us entertained for years to come. until one day we played one last time, and to this day I try my best to remember that day and for the life of me I can not. Did the hero save his sister, the princess? Did the queen take back her kingdom which was stolen away by the false mortal king?  

    And that's my dream, to see how that last quest ended. I am starting college courses in January, I've not taken a class since 2006 so I'm really looking forward to truly challenging myself like the Queen (in real life), she went to pursue her dream in nursing, and is now a  R.N. on the front lines during the global pandemic. A noble cause. The Princess (in real life), Became the most loving stay-at-home mommy, with an artistic touch as she has graced many people with her amazing make-up techniques. And the Hero (in real life), has had many, many journeys and was given an opportunity to start a new journey. The Ultimate journey.

College. (lol) 

 

Here's to dreams.

Here's to dreamers. 

 

 

 

 

sincerely yours, 

Timothy 

 

 

 


The Spaces Between Us.

Chapter Four: Unveiled Challenges. The spring and the blossoming relationship between Hailey and Jayden seamlessly transitioned into a sum...