Remember where America Started.

Michael Owen Reeve 1/6/2004

All these "Remember 9/11" bumper stickers I see are starting to seriously irk me. Why? Because it has become increasingly apparent to me that we as an American people are forgetting about 1776.

The United States of America wasn't always United. We originally were colonies. Some madman named George (back then he was the King of England) was unjustly taxing the colonists. The man was completely off his rocker. Now, it was traditional for a king to believe he'd been ordained by God to be king & thus his rule was backed by this perceived divine right. (Heck, King John was so crazy he even had his scribes re-write the Bible for goodness sake so that it accommodated his own conception of it.) But George was especially wacko. Finally, the colonists decided they were fed up with being bossed around by some guy who was lived all the way across the ocean. They wanted to rule themselves, so they revolted. At the end of the American Revolutionary War, the colonists got their wish.

Skip ahead.

Iraq is currently within the turmoil that the American colonies had been in. They are no longer enthralled by the dictatorship of Saddam Hussien. But the people they'd believed to be their liberators are beginning to more & more like a new regime trying to control them. Some madman named George (now he is George Walker Bush, "President" of the US) who lives on the other side of an ocean. His soldiers bring them something far worse than taxes: they bring death. Many sacred traditions that have been in place for centuries are being defiled by infidels. The American news media labels these people who are fighting for their homes "terrorists" & "insurgents" while the truest name for them would be "Revolutionaries."

In Summary: We haven't always been America: The World Superpower. We were once a country as steeped in turmoil & confusion as Iraq is now. And, heck, maybe comparing the Iraqis to the Native Americans would be more acceptable? They were called savages & were hated & despised by the settlers of America. The American people, rather than contenting themselves with staying to the East, decided to take away nearly the whole of the continent. So end result is "America" is the country in the lower part of the North American continent & is bordered by Mexico.

Look at a map of Europe. See how all those countries co-exist there? Several small countries snuggled together. Imagine if the people of America had stopped 30 or 25 & left the other half to the "Indians"? 

Fanatical Attitudes of the Right Wingers Clash with Fanatical Attitudes of the Muslim World. (Propaganda v.s. Propaganda. Hate v.s Hate.) 

I believe there was a Time magazine published sometime this year that had the cover story "Should Christians Convert Muslims?" The bias of course is meant to say that Christianity was more valid in some people's eyes than Muslim. And the goal of the Bush administration is to establish a democracy in Iraq to replace the old dictatorship.

I fail to see how America isn't also guilty of this one-vision perspective. This my-way-or-the-highway theory.

And what do you know about the people of Iraq? What you've read in American newspapers or other news-sources. Which is essentially as propaganda-istic as the media is the Middle East. I've read the articles as you have. How "insurgents" are daily blamed for most of the bloodshed going on over there. They are people defending their homes. Homes that have been decimated by American mortar fire. They are people whose places are worship is under attack.

If a foreign country actively invaded American soil, you seriously believe people would go belly-up & surrender like, well,... Poland during WW II? Absolutely not. They'd get mad, get angry, and probably go completely berserk. The Right-To-Carry-Arms advocates especially.

I believe I had heard that during the American Revolution, the colonists had resorted to guerrilla warfare to fight off the Red Coats. They hid behind cover and fired at their targets. The Red Coats' style of warfare was to orderly march onto a battlefield, have both sides stand face-to-face, then fire at each other until one side had sustained more casualties than the other. It was a practice of very well-established rules. More ceremonial than practical.

"Those people are savages because they're beheading people!"

Yah... and making a bunch of guys gang-bang each other or decorating some guy up like a Christmas tree with electrodes on his nuts is "kind."... 

The message is perfectly obvious: the US is not wanted in Iraq by those who live there. They're radicals who fight using guerrilla tactics who take shelter in the countries surrounding Iraq.

They haven't got the technology or the preparation or the capabilities of our troops. Why? Basically because they aren't as fortunate as we our when it comes to capital & resources. They use what means they have to combat us. They are willing to go to whatever extreme it takes to take back their own land.

Now these are simply my own opinions. I don't support the bloodshed; I'm just an observer as you are. I'm not significant enough to have my opinion respected. But I will still speak my mind. No matter who or how many disagree with me. My friend, THAT is what being an American is being about. (It's just not an American thing, I believe all people's voices should be heard on all matters.)

"Okay, bigshot! What would you do differently? HUH!?!? Cry to your mommy?"

The best tactic I can foresee for the US is to create a stronghold within Baghdad. Rebuild that city, do not chase anyone outside of that zone. Maintain a defensive front. Do our absolute best to show the Iraqi people we are serious about humanitarian resources. Make Baghdad into a safe-zone. Take care of the sick, feed the poor. Repair our reputation. PROVE to them we do not intend to be oppressors.

Running willy-nilly all over the country as if it were some stupid videogame or insipid action movie come life is definitely not the way to go.

FacSmth Productions LLC

My name is Michael Courtney Woodard. I am forty four years old and disabled with Schizoaffective disorder. My mental illness lead to physical limitations. Being disabled has severely limited my personal and professional life. I have been disabled at least half my life. 

But its not just me. It's about the community at large. Many of us are disabled by illness and I believe the way to combat this (other than conventional means of medication or therapy) is to have a strong sense of self fulfillment. This involve free creative expression. Expressions such as playing games or having hobbies or creative outlets like writing or photography, or music, or painting. We are taught that we need endorphins to feel better in our lives. You can't just get that from a pill of some kind. 

In June of last year I registered a business LLC of my own with the goal to help my own small portion of the community. I have met many diverse people and helped them in my small ways with my limited means. A huge barrier from earning a little extra money on the side is that are income limitations for remaining eligible for Social Security Disability income. Thus we can only work part time. 

Employers often do not seriously want  to just have part time labor and are seeking full time employees. They will advertise part time opportunities but pressure applicants to work full time. I have always felt this to be dishonest. I seek to create my own production facility for providing remote work to my fellow disabled consumers. To have complete transparency. Members of the organization may do freelance projects online or teach others creative skills. To bring on a 21st Century Renaissance if you will. 

In the future I hope to have my own brick and mortar location for a combination of store and lounge. The location will be called "Fad N' Yo's" for people to gather at, drink soda or coffee, and hang out while expressing their own unique oneness. 

In mid July of last year, one of my good friends passed away. He was a veteran in his mid fifties. He had told me I was one of the few genuine friends he had in this world. I felt crushed by his death. I didn’t want another person die before my studio could be fully utilized. He enjoyed reading, drawing, and Dungeons & Dragons roleplaying. 

FacSmth Productions LLC is a production company & a talent agency for disabled creative types seeking freelance employment. Our clients are not allowed to earn a living on a full time basis because of income limitations with disability income. Many employers are not willing to hire for just part time hours. So we represent our members rather than allowing them to fall in the cracks. 

FacSmth Productions LLC is an organization inspired by creativity of every kind and employs a wide spectrum of personalities and talents. There is no limitation to life in the creative realm. We are a 21st century forward thinking company operating remotely online. We don't normally need a physical office. Our members conduct their affairs in the comfort of their own homes. Business is conducted in special chatrooms online.

Fad N’ Yo’s is the DBA of FacSmth Productions LLC of Pennsylvania. It has a Federal and State of PA Tax Id as well as a Employee Identification Number. Pennsylvania Business Entity Registration has been filed. 

The business will be a mobile endeavor most of the time with employees going to and from work as well as to outlying locations via a local transportation company. We will host social gatherings and parties for the disabled and homeless or charities. Proceeds will go into local non-profits and food banks.  There will also be a brick & mortar office/ storefront for keeping stock and a gaming lounge.

Gaming Lounge. 

The main lobby features many gaming consoles new and old like Wii U, Nintendo Switch, Playstation 3, PS4, Xbox series X, and computer games. Flatscreen monitors and consoles wil be placed behind a counter. Only store management will change discs as well as operate menus between games. Gaming chairs will be set up for players and controllers tethered to the arm rests to prevent theft. In a couple corners there will be specialty designed metaplay arcades machines. 

Alternative usages for the Lounge will be support groups held in a loose circle of folding chairs. If enough people drop in during the day to make a meeting feasible and there’s not much business going on otherwise, groups meet here. Gaming chairs are stored away in the largest office until later on. Cans of soda are sold at fifty cents per can and cups of coffee five cents per new cup (cups reused are not recharged for). “Virtual” groups will be hosted over a custom Discord channel.

A Note on Office Space

Merhandise for sale wil be stored in the appropriate offices. There are 3 offices. One for the owner/ founder where writing materials as well as computer components are stored such as game discs, PC storage medium, memory cards, and loose accessories. There will be production PCs here for doing technical development tasks. There will be four CyberPower brand Syber-C Pro 200 desktops for a total of $3116 base value with no monitors.

The secondary office is where the artists will design their creative endeavors. Fashion design supplies, cloth, paper, design desks, paints. Mannequins and sewing machines. Magazines and other collage materials or reference. Various costume designs. 

The third office will be designated the armory for sorage of outside laser tag activities (weather permitting). Basic exercise equipment will be placed here. Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay sessions take place here. Live Action Roleplay gear as well. 

The largest office of the three will double for storing merchandise that doesn’t fit any specific category. 

In Limbo

 

“In limbo....”

by Michael Courtney Woodard

“Wake up!” came a voice from the darkness. Then came the sound of crackling fire. After that was the cold. “Wake up!” repeated the voice with more urgency.

Bleach woke to the sight of his dwarven friend staring down at him, their faces very close since Bleach was laying on his back and the dwarth was kneeling before him and leaning forward. Goz’s face was drenched in sweat. “What is it?” asked Bleach.

“You are sleeping at a time of great peril and you ask me this question?” Goz stands up and kicks Bleach’s leg. Before Bleach can reply, he says, “In the middle of a war even!?!”

“What war?” complains Bleach, sitting up groggily.

“I considered you my heir and this is the ignorance I am finally greeted with?” asks Goz. “I never bothered talking about it because I thought they told you. What did they do there anyway? Just climb upon each other all the time and do coupling as I have been told?”

Bleach yawned. “Not the dwarven women, though. And what do you mean by ‘heir’?”

Goz growled but before he said anything else, the fire went out. He swore in some formm of Dwarven.

Bleach looked around and was confused. When he’d first awakened, he was certain he was out on the side of the snowy mountain side like he’d been before and that it was night time. But now he seemed to be in a cave. How had that happened? It was roomy in here he was certain, but he wasn’t sure how deep in he was or how far away the walls were. He felt a buzzing in his teeth, too.

A tall figure came walking into the cave and could only seen as a silhouette lit by the dying embers and the starlight behind him. Bleach’s eyes had not adjusted to the dark yet but Goz stepped in front of him protectively. "If I had the strength I would put on my armor and cut you down with my axe,” he said with an angry hiss.

The stranger bumped his head on the ceiling and fell to the ground suddenly. Mostly it was the sound of him falling and grunting as he hit the floor which indicated this to Bleach. The stranger laughed at his own misfortune.

Goz would have leapt to attack it, but Bleach tripped him from behind by grabbing at his ankle. The stranger made a sound of frustration and then laughed. Bleach recognized the laugh. “I don’t see how you mortals can stand to walk all the time... It proves very difficult for me.”

“Don’t wonder much. I had to carry you most of the time we traveled here!” exclaimed another. This one also sounded familiar. He snapped his fingers and a torch he was holding came alight. “Nice, dramatic entrance, elf!”

“And even nicer introduction!” spoke a female voice. The voice seemed to come from Bleach’s wounded ear and a part of his mind he wasn’t used to speaking to him.

Goz pushed up from where he had lain with his face down in the dirt. He looked at Bleach with a sour face. “You had not told me your friends were elvish people.”

An angry sound came from the second stranger’s general area but it wasn’t him. In the torchlight Bleach could see his face and the face of the one who had tripped. It was Buhrne and TImbre. The noise was coming from a blue jay on Buhrne’s shoulder. It lit up into the air briefly to land on Timbre’s head.

“Oh, hello, bird,” said Bleach. “You seem to be talking inside of my head.” He made a frown. “Is anyone else hearing this bird talk?”

“You speak of my wife, young one,” admitted Timbre. “If you have forgotten her name, no matter. Animals need no names.” He frowned as the bird spoke to him in turn. “I apologize my lady.”

“Elven men marry birds?” Goz wondered as he sat up from his spot on the ground. “I do not know how this resonates with my mind.”

“At least our women don’t run at the sight of us!” said Timbre.

Bleach stood up and yawned, spreading his arms out to either side. His back cracked. In fact his joints all seemed stiff all of a sudden. “The elves are shapeshifters, Goz,” Bleach said. His knees popped.

Goz and Timbre stared at him for a moment, forgetting their quarrel. Both swore in their native languages under their breaths. Buhrne made a sound of frustration. “You’re too young to have your joints sound like a kettle of popcorn.”

Goz glanced at Buhrne with disgust. He then looked Bleach up and down for a moment. “So you’re alive, then.” He smiled. “Or you have overcome rigormortis?”

“Stop talking of trivial things!” spoke up the blue jay.

“The bird is right!” Goz exclaimed. “Have you no idea why there would be a war?”

“Again, you speak of war!” said Bleach. “I never heard of such a thing!”

“You have lived in Lover’s Climb? Did they not teach you why it were nmed such?”

Very briefly Bleach explained why he thought so. Goz listened in bad humor and often interrupted with more cursing in his language. Not once did he explain his words’ meaning.

“I explained to you my journey up to your city. Surely you didn’t think my trip were unique. Did you? I finally reached the point where I actually wanted a wife! Now my people will slowly die out with no younglings. Our women ALL lived there on that accursed mountain!” He actually put his hands to his face and began to silently, tearlessly weep.

“I have no idea what is worse,’ said Buhrne. “The boy’s ignorance or the dwarth’s acting.” He smirked.

Goz rose to his feet to confont the arrogant fire mage but Bleach grabbed his arm and restrained him. Goz spat at Buhrne’s feet. “If I only I had my ax!” swore Goz.

“Are you sure you want it?” spoke a voice in Bleach’s head. By the look of it, the others heard it as well. “Don’t worry, I am not there, but I can grant boons when I wish. And only when I wish.” It sounded familiar. The Bleach’s bad ear twitched. “I wonder if the rats will take the bait or decide to flee the sinking ship?” This last was spoken in Raven’s voice, so Bleach was sure only he heard this last messge.

Goz stomped his foot. “Give me my ax!” Suddenly it popped into existence in his hands and hovered in the air for a moment. But when he tried to clasp it properly, he lacked the strength so it felll to the floor at his feet. Again, he swore.

Timbre was about to speak, but the voice said “NO!” Timbre made a face of disgust. “Your woman doesn’t want to be your woman anymore.” There was laughter. “She and I know you hate being in human-like form.”

Timbre frowned. “Are our children, the animals we created when we mated, still alive?” There was silence. The bird chirped at him but the frown grew deeper.

“I don’t want to speak human to the idiot!” came his wife’s voice. It seemed to come from a spot of blank space in the air near her. “Why are my words now heard?” she wondered.

“Telepathy is my game!” said Raven’s voice in their minds. Buhrne scratched his chin. “Oh! Someone is catching on how the game is played!”

“What?” asked Buhrne. “i was just wondering if i may use my fire magic again.” He snapped his fingers and the campfire reignited. He paused for a moment in though. “Very well.” Suddenly a large shadow with no discernible origin appeared on the wall of the cave.

The Kingdom of Alefgard. (A Dragon Quest / Final Fantasy Fan Fiction)

Along time ago, so long ago that it was the year of our lords 1990, there existed a kingdom named Alefgard. It's citizens were an odd pack what the gods termed "Non Player Characters." 

Being an NPC was a responsibility in itself. The Kingdom itself was made of a castle town and a nearby small hamlet nearby. Across a raging sea, there lived the Dragon Lord in another castle separated from the mainland by mountains and a noxious swamp. He sat on his throne jealously peering into a glass ball.

The Dragon Lord had purchased his forsaken castle at a lower price than that of the other castle had cost its King. The first day he arrived to open the door to his Dark Castle, the magic key he'd bought at the key store vanished into thin air, leaving his front door incapable of being locked ever again. You see, the owner of the key store was an evil magician and the Dragon Lord's cousin.

Having opened the door he had unwittingly allowed an invisible beast that feasted on its victim's fears was released along with its copious offspring. Before he knew what happened, the Dragon Lord was dragged down a confusing array of catacombs beneath his castle where he was forced to sit upon a hidden throne.

Suddenly, there appeared a hero in blue & white armor. And at first glance of him, the villagers feared him because he stood as a giant and was at least ten stories tall. He slowly walked toward the castle which surely would be trampled by his enormous feet. The king sounded an alarm and had himself locked into his throne room with only his most trusted guards and advisers to accompany him.

“Who the hell is that?” he asked as he looked out his window.

“Don't you know?” asked a guard as he paced about the chamber. “He is the Dragon Warrior!”

“The Who?” asked the king.

“The game is named after him, sire,” said another guard.

It was at this moment the king made a tragic proclamation: “everyone just play dumb!”

And dumb they became. Some citizens would stand or sit still for all eternity at their assigned posts. Others would wander about foolishly and for some reason a visiting hero would hear the same “BUMP!” he would hear if he were to walk into a wall!

And then the hero finally stepped foot into the castle and was warped straight into the King's chamber. “Holy crap!” cursed the king. But the hero was frozen solid in place. “What the hell is he doing now?” he asked.

The pacing guard said “the game just asked him his name, sire.”

At that moment, a pigeon flew into the window. The king opened a letter attached to the leg of the pigeon. “HELP! A giant, red warrior has appeared in the town square of our fair city of Cornelia!” read the king. “Where the hell is Cornelia?”

“It is the first city of the game Final Fantasy, sire!” said the pacing guard.

Shattered Consciusnesses Part One

Shattered Consciousnesses

by

Michael Woodard

I

Bleach just ran. He heard something rustle in the leaves behind him up above and he looked frantically over his shoulder. It wasn't the darkling following him this time. It was the vulture. It had left its prizes up in the tree where it had landed earlier. He dared not look back again. The soldiers had found him in his camp!

He was certain he heard the crash of hooves on the ground speeding towards him. Visions of the dead soldier atop his now skeletal horse came to mind and he couldn't shake them off.

If not his former friend whom he had buried; only to have the man rise from his own grave to haunt him later in that village far from the mountain's peak... surely Death himself rode at his back.

A wet pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulder and uprose the panic level again. Amy was also back from her watery grave to claim his soul! He tried to run but the clutching grasp kept him in one spot.

He looked back and no one was there.

The talons of the vulture sunk into the meat of his back and threw him to the ground. Then before he could get a grab at it, it had flown away with a large part of his cape in its arms. His special cape.

He cried and in his sudden despair and he realized he was lost. Laying upon his face, he began to throw a tantrum. His fists and feet banged in the dust as he bawled like a much younger child.

Oh, grow up! Came a voice in his head. He heard it but not with his ears for it had no sound. But it rasped in his mind. Don't you humans spend enough time as babies in your cradles?

“I'm not a baby,” he said aloud, falling still. No longer crying.

Cradles of Sin they be. Sins against the Greater World of Nature you live in. The voice seemed to come from the vulture. Friendless you are... twice a runaway.

“You laugh like that crow had laughed,” Bleach remarked, turning onto his back to look up at his tormentor. “Before my brother had killed it.” Then he remembered the burning casket.

Before he could begin to weep again, the image in his head shattered like a pane of glass. It was replaced by a spark of white light.

If I were a predator, so easily would I have sunk my beak or talons into your neck and drank your blood, said the vulture in a casual remark.

“Well you did attack me, didn't you?” Bleach wanted to know.

“Only because my wings were getting tired from following you.” Not surprisingly, the vulture had chosen a tall gravestone to perch from.

A shadowy figure landed next to Bleach. On its waist there was a scabbard and belt for the dagger. Upon its head it wore the steel helmet. The rest of its features were cloaked. He could not tell how tall this latest arrival was.

Before he could address this person, it spoke. “So a scavenger complains about the chase for you? Indeed. I have been chasing you even further... grandson.”

“Grampah? Am I dead now?” He climbed to his feet and almost fell. Grampah was clean-shaven and was missing his glasses, but he still recognized him.

The figure grabbed his elbow to steady him. “You look older.” He laughed. “In fact you look older than me at this moment.”

Bleach felt his face and found his beard was still there. And then he found out that his hair was a tangled mess as well. “Why am I old?”

“You wished to be older. Older and wiser. But you wished too hard and your age got too far ahead of you. And your wisdom has dimmed.” Grampah mused for a second. “You also have grown more than a little insane since I last saw you.” 

NEW FICTION.

Two canoes came rowing along the shallow water of the river. One boat had three people in it, the other only two. This was weird though because the river had been dammed at some point and only puddles remained in the river bed.

The five people had cut out holes in the bottoms of their boats and would walk a few paces around, drop the boats down so they could sit and pretend to row in the muck for a bit.

Confused, Bleach ran up to them and started to walk in the muddy river bed towards them.

“Do you see what I see?” shouted one of the men in the two-person boat. He was small, wearing a black pointed hat and a blue robe. The robe was dirty. He was dirty. And his overall look was funny-looking.

The much larger man sitting in the boat with him struck him very hard, knocking his hat from his head and sending him backwards into the muck behind the boat. “Damn you, Tinli, I wanted to be the first to say that line!” He began to fiddle his fingers on a gold chain he wore around his neck.

Tinli didn't say anything: he was out cold.

“TIRSK!” shouted an older man with a bald head and grizzly-looking gray goatee. He wore a gray robe. The man he named was wearing a red robe. They exchanged angry looks and shrugs.

“Praise be The Lord!” shouted a mannish thing in a brown robe. Then she tore her fake beard off along the robe, revealing a dirty light gray dress she wore underneath. At some point when it were clean, the dress might have been white. “He walks upon water!”

Tirsk growled again, but didn't dare hit the woman as well. “Great. I knocked out the third wise man because he angered me!” he groused. He slapped Tinli's face, causing him to stir a little but still he remained on the ground unconscious. “We bring you ---” he began.

“GIFTS!” shouted his companions in unison. Again the man in red fumed.

A third man wearing yellow tossed a wrapped package at Bleach and it bounced off his head before he could duck away from it. “I am your father!” squeaked the man in yellow robes. He also wore a necklace but his was made from a leather string.

Rubbing his head, Bleach noticed that they all five wore similar amulets. They were red jewels encased in gold.

The oldest, the one of the gray robes, shook his head. His necklace was made of silver. He sighed. “I am a servant of God, Oh who art Christ!”

“What is a Christ?” Bleach wanted to know.

“A Christ performs miracles, Lord Jesus!” yelled the woman. “I am your mother, Mary, and my... husband... is Joseph!” She very carefully kissed the yellow robed man on his bearded cheek. Neither one looked happy about the kiss.

“Yosef!” he corrected.

She hit him in the crotch with her fist.

Yosef gasped. “Call me Joseph, please,” he said weakly.  

Sorry I haven't posted much. I am seriously considering a new, 21st Century approach to my fiction.

.... by posting it as much as possible in the future on the internet. Getting people to read a blog seems easier than getting them to read a book by an unknown author like myself.


SPOILERS BELOW...

In the last year I have (of course) made a new draft but this one is stream lined for "new media" such as TV or Film or stage or even animation. 

I also have come up with a solution to the one criticism my mother ever brought up with the story... "they are too young" to have gone thru the risque things I put my characters thru. Amy is lying about her age because she's 18 and claiming to be 13 to be closer in age to Bleach. 

And Bleach himself is actually a great deal older than 10 because he somehow got stunted in his growth cycle a century ago and only recalls ten years of his life.... for some reason. Oh, and he's an undead-zombie kinda thing without a soul because his brother murdered him as a newborn. .... 

The damn thing evolves even after twenty some years of writing. :( 

My sister-in-law's new blog.

Red Flag Parent

Good stuff. As a "Learning Disabled" adult, I can really dig reading about my nephew's life as described by his mother. :D

Love ya, Hollie. :D

My SmashWords E-Books!

My GoFundMe page. Please share.

My other blogs are on Tumblr. :D

Some things to consider.

Haven't been blogging much as you can see. I'm at RO and now have a writing assigment for the day. The topic is "Playing a Role In My Recovery."

(How does hope play a role in my recovery?) Hope is a nebulous thing. Some people have it and some don't. I'm not sure I ever believed in the intangeable.

(What goals have I reached despite my illness?) I have several books I've written, some of which are in a series. Part of my illness over the years involved how long it took to reach the point in the stories I have gotten to. I'm not as quick when it comes to writing as I should be. I'm slow with my own reading comprehension these days.

(What are some social and cultural factors in my life that play a role in my recovery?) I have a friend who often reminds me of my illness. I'm not certain that I have the correct diagnosis as I was diagnosed in a time of acute crisis in my life where I was very symptomatic. Truth be told I heard enough voices on that sudden outset and acted out to a degree that probably gave others enough cause for concern. But I'm not symptomatic in that sense all the time.

(How do family and others affect your recovery?) A big part of my personality & my actual illness is that I'm a co-dependant kinda person. I put other's needs ahead of my own and find myself doing things or in situations where I am uncomfortable and wish I weren't doing what I was doing. I enable others to have me chase after their own problems and not be cognizant of my own.

I'm closing RPGboards.com

Can't afford to pay for a custom URL for a crappy website. :(

Being Happy-Go-Lucky with Jesus & Ourselves.

Here, offered for free, is an article published originally in my "Big Book of MORfiction."

Being Happy-Go-Lucky with Jesus & Ourselves.

By Michael Owen Reeve

Jesus isn't a brooding, grim, unhappy guy. He's a happy, cheerful guy laying some good vibes on people. I'd go so far as to say he was the first "flower child". Not in the sense that he was disreputable. But he walked around wearing sandals, long hair, long beard, doing the odd job as whatever he could do to earn money, but his job didn't consume his life. He carpentered because he enjoyed doing it. Not because he NEEDED a paycheck.

He tried to get people to look on the bright side; to cast off their doubt & suspicion that life could improve under the shadow of the Roman Empire. He was a nice guy who did good deeds so other people would follow his example of spreading goodwill. But unfortunately the people saw fit to rise him up on a pedestal. "I'm not Jesus, I can only look towards his spirit for strength." This not what he truly wanted people to think. He wanted them to think they had strength, that they had power. The strength of an individual acting with integrity that isn't afraid of being ostracized by the crowd. Jesus was one such individual & he hoped that the people who followed him would share these qualities. Sure, they wouldn't be the Son of God like he was, but they don't have to be.

He didn’t want to be a King of Kings. He was a leader, but only in a time when people needed a push towards something to inspire them to band together & create something much better than what had come before. Moses & the other prophets could have been said to have been men who possessed a mania of compassion for the underclass who could not be content with being part of the crowd.

They had to speak against their oppressors and because they spoke up, the people followed them. Not because the prophets wished to lead but because the people were so content with their being followers that they lacked in the ability to be anything else. Everyone felt this compulsion, but not everyone was outfitted with the means of speaking in a way that would please the listener’s ear. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what tone of voice to use.”

Forgive my meager indulgences in egotism should they appear. I know they said this because they say it now. The people I see in this world are lost. They need to rekindle the passion they have for knowledge,

for wisdom. To learn how to speak to each other unfettered & without restraint or worry for being judged negatively.

The people… we… as a people need to embrace our own true potentials. It matters not what religion you were taught as a youngster. No religion is wrong; just very few religions know how to be right. You must build a true foundation of communication with each other. Don’t worry about always being polite: be genuine. Say what you mean. It matters not the tone of one’s voice. Those who speak sternly at times speak this way out of passion. Everyone feels they are right, but not everyone is righteous. The Muslim, the Hindu, the Catholic, the Jew, the everything-in-between & beyond shouldn’t be content with disagreements & scorn for each other. We all can’t be of the same mind about things, but just because we disagree we don’t have to over-indulge in anger. Words spoken in true hatred are words best not spoken.

Pay no heed to tone, to seeming aggression of a person’s actions. When we empower these behaviors by reacting to them with fear & subservience we are lessening our strengths as individuals. Do not

shackle your self in invisible chains made from fear of lack-of-conformity. “To thine own self be true” as Hamlet so wisely spoke.

So how to we empower the individuals? By bonding with our loved ones. Don’t struggle for the most appropriate and friendly thing to say. If you feel sad, say you feel sad. Families should hold bountiful love for each other. They should not fuel our own lack of self-worth. We don’t always feel like smiling. Smiling when we don’t really have anything to smile about forces a person into a fierce desire to please, to be the “happy” one. Do not be a dutiful servant to your family members, do it out of love. And how to do you acquire this love? By genuinely feeling it & genuinely expressing every emotion you feel to those you love.

Respect should be freely given. Love should be freely given. If you’re in a public place (such as a checkout lane), do not just stare at other people & wish you could talk to them. Open your mouth, say “hi” or “hello” and then begin to speak of the most cheerful thing you can think of discussing. You really like a TV show or something else others might share in and you never seem to find anyone who likes it? Don’t talk small. Talk big. If that other person isn’t receptive, chances are someone else around would be.

“Did you see Monk last night?” Pause. “That guy’s really brave I think. Despite the fact that he has such fears he’s willing to do the best he can do at whatever he sets his mind to.” You don’t have to worry about the proper wording of what you say. Life isn’t about reading from a script. (Unless you’re an actor.)

Oh, if you want to be an actor, maybe you should try doing voice acting for animation. It’s quite simple. Just read from a script, put a wealth of emotion into your voice, and speak into a microphone. Many

Voice-actors are average people who dress averagely. Watch more cartoons. :D They aren’t just for children: they are valuable tools for maintaining a cheerful disposition. Mark Hamill & Tom Kenny among many others are fine examples of voice-actors. Anyone can do it. Not everyone has to look beautiful, but I feel when people speak confidently with their voices they all sound beautiful.

To perform you need not focus upon technique or gaining acceptance from the crowd. Don’t bother sweating what everyone else is doing, thinking, wearing, eating, or whatever. If speaking to that person does not cause you to feel happy, do not speak to them. Having no speaking connection, the person should not be acknowledged.

Too often we are spies of each other. We look about with suspicion. We are all lost in the world. We spend our time looking at people, looking, looking, looking, looking, and looking. We don’t like being quiet & polite all the time. We repress & control ourselves so that we depersonalize when in public. The people we don’t know become threats to our safety.

But how would you get to know someone if you don’t speak to them? Don’t worry if others deem your small amounts of bravery with scorn or discontent. It is out of jealousy. You are something. Jesus wished you to be humble, meek, merciful, peacemakers.

Stigmas are created out of fear. Out of an obsessive oppressive desire to be controlled. Never stigmatize. Never call another person “crazy” or “stupid” or any other hurtful words. Life isn’t a competition. You need not be better than another person at any given task. Just be. Oh, and “Cleanliness is next to godliness” has nothing to do with bathing or washing of the clothes. It means cleanliness of the SPIRIT, of the soul, of the mind. Do not over-burden yourself with anger towards another human being. Don’t struggle to be perfect. Live in spiritual comfort. You don’t have to dress to the nines. Wear comfortable clothing. Clothes mustn’t have to look nice. If you have a winning, grandiose, friendly disposition and are willing to happily & inexhaustively speak to another person, then you’ll do well in this world. Once we have obtained cleansing of our souls, hearts, and minds we can achieve our place in Heaven besides God. (Any sinner can take a bath to temporarily wash the filth of the body from himself but it is very hard to maintain our humble goodliness.)

Don’t repress, don’t hold your emotions chained in heart and your mind forever revolving around how much more full of money your wallet is than another person’s. Live frugally, utilitarianly. There are never too many words. Only too little. There are lechers in this world because men & women fear each other. If you are a woman and you see a man you like or you are a man and see a woman you like --- or you are a man who sees a man you like or a woman who sees a woman you like --- speak to that person warmly & ingratiatingly. Don’t be afraid to be thoroughly bubbly with your goodwill. “OH! I don’t feel it’s appropriate to do this or this!”

Have a hobby? Like books? Go to a book store. Buy something. If you have a favorite author, obviously you must have a strong opinion about that person for you to love them so much. Strike up a spontaneous & absurd conversation about something. You’d be amazed. No matter how completely embarrassed & silly you feel for having spoken in earnest about something you genuinely care about in public, the other person might react positively. I did the same not to long ago at a book store myself. I once hypothesized in the middle of a Borders Express store that: “Peter Parker always needed to believe in himself, he needed to believe that he didn’t have to hide his full potential as a person. He was Spiderman but didn’t let anyone else around him know it. I’m a writer but I don’t talk about it well. If Peter hadn’t worn his mask, people would not have feared him. You have to believe in yourself, you know?”

The young lady cashier muttered “I like Batman” & started giggling at herself for not being able to speak intelligibly. I retreated out of surprise. I couldn’t have possibly been that charming. I was nervous of from my lack of belief in myself so I left. As I left, she went to the backroom. When I returned, she wouldn’t leave the backroom. You see? We both felt crestfallen even as we’d achieved a connection. Was the interaction a disaster? Not at all. It was life.

I find it amazing how often I encounter people who are deathly afraid of a karaoke machine. Just stand on the stage, hold the microphone to your lips, & sing the words that appear on the screen. You don’t even have to be good to do it. You might be surprised how many people will come to search you out to shake your hand & tell you how much they admire you. For what? Being able to read & talk at the same time.

Talking is singing. Don’t let anyone tell you “they are two completely different things.”