The Bridge

A to Z 2013 : GRANDMA'S BOY

(An A to Z 2013 Challenge Entry)

After determining I would stop blogging, I began to to think of some of the topics I had planned that I’d never write about. Some I find important, others just fun and random. Then I began to think about what my grandmother would say when she found out I quit. She has been my number one supporter and fan. She is technologically challenged, so I read my latest blog entries to her when I visit on Mondays.

Over the last few months she has come to look forward to the interaction and, to be honest, so have I. I may not live in her basement like the stereotypical Grandma's Boy — the space is actually occupied by another — but there is no doubt that I am a Grandma’s Boy. The thought of her reaction doesn’t sit well with me. She would be very understanding, but yet... not.

What a Difference a Day Makes
24 little hours

What eventually ran through my head, after a comment a friend made, was people may think I couldn’t stomach the A to Z challenge. Now, I’ve nothing to prove, but I wanted it to be known that I really was (am) enjoying the A to Z. The people have been great and the abundance of new blogs/reading material welcomed.

Then another friend made a comment about getting them involved and abandoning him. I'm sure he was joking (I hope...), but I did feel kind of bad. Some friends weren’t able to sign up/register in time; joining later in the week, catching up.

If I had left that F post at its bare-boned, skeletal artsy self as I had planned, I don’t think I’d even be writing this. But, I wrote more and soon after I wanted to write more. What was G going to be again? “Give it a Name?” No, that was a header under J. What about H? I had a coded message for someone with the O entry. I really was (am... *sigh*) enjoying this blog hop (I think that is technically what it is referred to as).

All that, and a bit more, culminated into wanting to continue even more than before.

What the Crack Fuck?

I have this thing, where I worry about what people will think (it apparently exists both in person and online) and what impressions I make. I literally just went off about having to find a job and prioritize and get shit straight (all of which I need to do... very, very badly... and fast).

Now I'm continuing (or wanting to) and wonder if people are going to think I'm on drugs or something. Maybe bipolar — which I’m not and is no light matter — or depressed or whatever multitude of things. I even, at this very moment, have an email up I was going to send to a Co-Host of the A to Z challenge asking if I will come off like a cracked out basketcase.

I could leave comments off, continually, out of fear. What fun would that be, though? The interactions are honestly 75% of this event, and blogging, for me.

I’m writing this entry, and I am abstaining from sending that email (sparing them of my nuttery), and resolving to: Fuck it. Like all else, those things — thoughts/feelings/opinions of others — are out of my control. Sucks sometimes thinking what role I play in them, because despite the fact that yes, it is out of your control, you sometimes play a role. Things you say/do/etc all play a part. But, even then, what can you do? Not a whole hell of a lot. Make better choices (if the results were negative) perhaps.

It is what it is. I’m a strong supporter of: Whatever happens, happens. My facebook banner thing-in-the-bobber can back me up... unless it's still the 2012 NaNoWriMo one... then it can’t. Nope “What Ever Happens, Happens.” And now I know how little I paid attention to the split between “what” and “ever” and am annoyed because it should be one word. Now I have another crisis on my hands! Great!

I Cannot Tell a Lie

Quitting the blogs, while helping some with stress (mainly referring to my fiction blog), won’t make me any more motivated to job hunt. What I feel would result is I’d find some other distraction — there are many to choose from (Damn you Candy Crush! Damn you to hell!) — and I’d be in the same place I was before. Except I wouldn’t be writing as often. If at all, because this fiction writing is still presenting its fair share of blockage. It wants to fight. It wants to punch me in the ear.

So not blogging isn’t going to help a whole hell of a lot. I just hate standard work; always have. My grandmother and I just recapped this last Monday. Friends and family always come first, and at least with the job I’ve had for the last six years those values could be upheld. I just need another. A second job... oh my nuts, if you only knew how much I hate the concept of having to work two jobs. Yeah, I know... millions do it. I am likely of the 1% in this category.

I’ve good friends and family that have attempted to help me get a second job for months now, but I just evade. Evade right into that financial black hole I was talking about in my previous entry. So what I need is an entire change of thought and, surely, acceptance. I need to be careful... I can’t even fully become a Grandma’s Boy and live in the basement; no vacancies. Would be interesting to see where I’d end up.

Was It Real or Was It All an Illusion?

Well, let’s see here. I’ve quite possible broken all trust of security with those who follow along, including friends and family. This guy could just up and leave after investing X amount of time reading his damn blog?! This was actually a factor of concern if I were to eventually come back to blogging.

See I talk about Connections and building of strong bonds, so acts like this leave me a bit reminiscent of incidents described in The Bridge.

At least my bounce back recovery time is improving exponentially! I guess I should have heeded my own words:
“Eviscerate notions demanding
Enthralling neurotic derailments"
Do I try to pretend it never happened? Claim "F" was for "False Alarm"? Not really my style. Everything described is real, genuine, and pertinent in my life at this time. I definitely seem to be living up to that intentionally emo pic I took when deciding to undertake a journal blog.

So I think I will just keep on, keeping on. In my heart of hearts it is what I want. I can continue to dabble with writing on a non-fiction front, and I can keep reading my blurbs to my grandmother when I visit. I can meet new bloggers.

And while pretending to look for a second job, perhaps one will fall into my lap... right.

WTF? Is Jak:
A) Crazy
B) On Crack
C) Sleep Deprived
D) Living Up to His EmoJak moniker 
E) The One True King 
F) All the Above (minus E, of course!)
G) None of the Above (This has all been a ruse of pure genius masterminded as some sort of publicity stunt)

I’m going to go with G :) since it is the Letter of the Day. Also, if you've never seen the movie Grandma’s Boy, do so (but only if you enjoy crude humor!).

Edit: I forgot it's Monday (since I scheduled this out over the weekend) and that is officially Grandma Day! I will share a video by Julian Smith that I place up on FB occasionally:


Last week my family said goodbye to my uncle. Things seem calmer, but it's likely because everyone is going about their grieving in different ways. That and the fact I am not in close proximity of most of my family anymore. We aren’t talking states away, but I have a very small radius of travel; something I want to change sooner than later.

I spoke of another loss, one hopefully salvageable. It pales in comparison to a death in the family, but it's an important matter, nonetheless.

Before getting to that, though, I will start on a lighter note...

Your You’re the Writer

Yesterday was my review for the new company I work for. I have to admit, I was a little nervous. With everything going on the last few weeks, I had fallen a bit behind. The company uses a Self-Assessment form, where you critique your own work/skills/strengths/weaknesses/etc. It was interesting. Similar to some of the questions asked in the interview I had with the company.

Questions like: What are five strengths you possess?

Could you believe I could only think of four during my interview? It happened! Granted I was on thirty minutes of sleep, but still. I never really think about those kinds of things. What I’m good at, strengths, positive traits/skills. It was a bit easier this time around, thankfully.

I couldn’t print out the form, so I ended up writing my answers on index cards. I was excited when my manager seemed interested I used them. I may be obsessed, I use them for many things. She let me start the review.

“You’re the writer...” she began.

I must have told her I wanted to write and forgot. I think I got flustered, maybe embarrassed, and tried explaining I hadn’t written much in a while. It was, however, encouraging to make sure I do a little writing each day; especially my fiction.

The review went really well. Things were in order and we spoke about advancement opportunities, so I will be playing it by ear. It would be nice to shift into a new role, learn some new skills. Overall it turned out to be a good day, with a clearer outlook on the work front.


In a previous post, THE BRIDGE, I mentioned a Wildcard associated with NaNoWriMo.  This individual played an important role in inspiring my writing, encouraging me to complete NaNo, and fueling various other projects thereafter. Looking back, I apparently wasn’t completely aware of just how influential the individual had been to my work.

Now the part that some may find hard to believe, is that I had specifically asked for a Muse months ago. Asked the Universe, for all those new age spiritualists out there. So, I got what I asked for, but unfortunately not at the most opportune time, at least in terms of being able to explore it to a desired capacity. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. I just wanted to write again.

So this Muse came into my life and that’s what happened. I began to write again. More expansive than outlines and ideas. Spending time with them somehow created a surge of inspiration and desire to create. I couldn’t explain it and still can’t. It just was. It scared me; still does. It played a factor in, to some extent, the breakdown discussed in that earlier post linked above.

While things were exciting for a time, eventually due to circumstances, the connection had to be momentarily released. I hope it’s a very temporary situation. It was important to myself to be realistic and honest about the situation, rather than pretend I was okay with it or that things would change. Continuing down that path would have bode negative for both myself and them. Different people at different places, but perhaps down the road the friendship will resume more fully.

Since the severance, I have coincidentally been lacking in my fiction. I’m sure a lot of it is in my head, but unless someone has known someone that created this effect, I can’t explain it. It comes off as magical. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t contemplated sacrificing some happiness in attempts to assure I could at least have access to just a taste now and again. It can be very euphoric.

Music plays a large role in my writing, and fuels a lot of my fiction. Not as fleshed out, but little blips of scenes. I’m hoping it will suffice, and that I can unlock that part of me that was unleashed when in the presence of a Muse. The belief is, naturally, that the source is within you and I agree (or so I will tell myself). The trouble comes in accessing it freely.

Wildflower is the name of a Smashing Pumpkins song I dedicated to this situation. To me, the song is about someone chasing another who is always out of reach. In doing so, eventually it becomes too much and they need to let go, or risk the task consuming them. That is the simplistic explanation.

The song took on a slightly different meaning when listening to it live, where the singer had changed a line of lyrics from "When it's far too gone, I'd move on" to "When it's all too much, I've had enough." Originally, in context, it sounded like he was giving permission to the other to move on once he became unmanageable. To go and be free and live without him. With the change, it is more giving himself permission and letting go (and how the original line was meant to be taken - at least in my theory). Either way, give it a listen. I love it!

Flash Fiction

I decided to try my hand at Flash Fiction. Essentially it is a piece consisting of fewer words than a short story. I believe under a thousand (or maybe three thousand?) words is common. There was a contest held a few weeks ago and the rules specified for a piece of fiction of 250 words or less. Writing within these confines is sometimes referred to as Micro Fiction. Also, as a fun twist, you had to use at least four of ten pre-selected words.

The words:


It was a lot of fun and very challenging. I’d like to do more Flash Fiction. I feel it will help me in terms of brevity with my fiction. This past weekend I received the dreaded email stating my story didn’t make it to the next round of judging. That is unfortunate, but was expected. It was more for the experience of it. I don’t think I’ve submitted anything into a contest since high school; maybe first grade.

The piece was inspired by the circumstances involving the Muse, and also a song I was inspired to write during the period we were in touch. For that reason, it is a very personal story, but would love to share it.

I’m currently placing all of my fiction on a blog specifically designed for my writing. You can read my Flash Fiction contest entry there:

Dreams in the Shade of Ink: Fireflies

Feel free to check it out, comment, and explore the other writing projects I am working on! Any constructive feedback is always welcomed; both here and there.

Until then, I will endure the only thing standing between that fleeting inspiration and myself. Those words that wish to be written, but enjoy a good game of hide-and-seek.


Have you ever had a Muse? For those out there inspired by music, what song(s) or band(s) really gets your mojo flowing? Have you ever written any Flash Fiction? I'd love to read some from others!