One Minute Drill - Topics

So I think I need to pick a topic before I start writing these, or else I'll never get any of it done at all. I should probably just leave typos in and keep writing too. Just keep going and not stop for any reason at all. It's going to be really interesting to see what comes out of this. I should make a long list of topics, or maybe even start a whole new blog for these. One minute drill.

Already Sunday

Funny, I said to myself, "I'm going to write every day." I planned to sit down and write for twenty minutes. I need to learn how to downgrade instead of just canceling. Maybe just write for five minutes, or however long it takes. I should start writing in one minute bursts. And hold myself to the time limit.

20 minutes - 1

so it's nine o clock and I'm writing. I'm going to write for twenty minutes today. Let's see how long this gets. I don't really know what to talk about, and I'm not planning on editing much out of here. It is incredibly windy outside. It's been cloudy and stormy for most of the day and the wind is howling outside.

I always worry about tornados. I'll never forget camping with my grandpa between seventh and eighth grade... or was it eighth and ninth? Either way, we were in ohio and there were tornados on the horizon. I remember seeing three tornados in the distance, marring the sunset. I was so afraid but I do not recall my granddad seeming the slightest bit concerned.

I wouldn't let the tornados out of sight until it was dark. That night a wild cat came into the motor-home. At this time, my grandpa and his wife were traveling around the country in a motor-home with two cats. One of the exterior cargo areas had interior access so they would prop it open and that was the kitty door. That was how the wild cat got in.

The domestics were no where to be found and the feral cat found itself "stuck" in the driving area behind the curtain. It was bounding and lurching and pounding it's head against the windshield. All the while giving off its natural sounds for frustration and confusion. It sounded like an air-raid.

And that's what I think about when I see storms blowing in or hear the wind howling through the trees, rattling my windows. Wild cats and tornados.

* * *

With my remaining eleven minutes I'd like to state how gall-darned excited I am for this summer. I've just completed my first YEAR back in college, which means I have about enough credits to be considered a sophomore and a half, but just about everything upwards of 30 is practically worthless.

I went to school three times before this. [suddenly] It's really pouring outside...

Sorry, interrupted by heavy rainfall. I do love the rain. times up. =)

Oh the Places you will GO!

so finally, the semester is over. I'm pretty sure I blew my arabic final completely and pretty sure I sucked the marrow out of economics - whatever that means. I think feature writing went way too easy. Basically, exactly what I thought. Hopefully something wonderful happens.

It's either time to get a job or it's time to go camping. Either way, this summer is slated for trips.

Hopefully I'll see everyone soon.

be the change you want to see in the world

these are my goals for the summer:

1.) continue learning arabic by speaking with arabic speakers and studying the Quran. Also, the internet.

2.) travel to visit family and old friends

3.) avoid refined sugars, processed foods and TV

The Lost Documents of Solomon Strangelove

http://issuu.com/samosborne/docs/the_lost_documents_of_solomon_strangelove

I finished my capstone project for my literature class. I count myself blessed for being a part of a literature class that let me interpret the curriculum into a work of fiction. الحمد لله I am almost as pleased with the work as I am with the formatting. It's called "The Lost Works of Solomon Strangelove." It's all made up.

I transposed the stereotypical Islamofascist onto an inquisition style catholic framework to cook up a make believe ultra conservative religion and I gave them oodles of untapped resources. I made up a country run by industry and technology and let them verge on civil war as they run out of resources. I put them on continents on opposite sides of the same globe and pitted them against each other. The high-tech invading the low-tech. I imagined a journalist put in the middle of everything and wrote a story from his perspective. Something like a collection of unpublished essays, articles and notes.

We started the class reading "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and a comparison to Barack Obama's Inaugeration Address. We then proceeded to read "Night" by Elie Wiesel, "Maus I: My Father Bleeds History" by Art Spiegelman, "Hiroshima" by John Hersey, "A Balcony Over the Fakihani" by Liyana Badr and "Unbowed" by Wangari Maathai. Solomon Strangelove's journey takes him through my personal journey via the assigned reading.

"The Lost Documents" contains five chapters. The first chapter is an unpublished interview with a jailed civil activist and advocate for change. It sets the stage for the coming conflict and paints a dismal picture of home. The second chapter in, Solomon gives us his immediate reflections on and experience in The Promised Land; short on options, too many problems. Chapter three is about a sandstorm and a struggle. Chapter four skips almost five years ahead, brings sweeping destruction and changes the game. While chapter five reveals the truth, Solomon sees the fraying at the edge.

If I have succeeded, the story continues long after "The Lost Documents" ends.

This semester was a journey for me and this class played a big role in my thoughts. I was constantly rushing through the story. It wound up with so much going on that I found myself rushing through, and glossing over much of the detail. At times it might really read like notes. Each sentence like a snapshot. إن شاء الله I am proud of it, though I will never feel like my work is done.

I would like to flesh these vignettes out into a real novel. I've always wanted to create a world and this one is generic enough that the options are really limitless.

she doesn't mention the word addiction... In certain company

For some reason I've had that ringing through my brain tonight.

Imagine my brain is a bowl of water and fish, a fishbowl or aquarium of sorts. If I don't change the water regularly the water clouds, fish die and it starts to stink. This is my brain when I'm not writing regularly. School assignments don't count. Professional writing, scholarly writing doesn't help me at all. It's a labor. It makes my mind work. It's awesome when the water is clean but it's just agitating a murky pool if it hasn't been kept up.

When it gets bad like this it's really hard to remember everything. It's hard to get all the fish out of the murky water. If I dump the water I lose some really good Ideas. If I don't keep up on my thoughts they just start adding to the murk.

OMG Finals!

yech. I don't have time for anything fun anymore...

One more week.