a good thing

Pretty Things

Christmas has become the most tiresome time of the year. I feel physically, emotionally, and psychically drained from the over commercialized holiday and the overt expectation from almost everyone that it's going to be the best Christmas yet. I never have the money for gifts and rarely have any idea of what to buy, so I've resorted to the very impersonal gift card, like cash but non refundable. I suppose there's a little bit of a manipulation there too. You don't expect someone to say, "oh wow, what were you thinking, I hate it." Actually, I taught my family years ago that I would say just such a thing and the better gift should always be the impersonal gift card or preferably cold hard cash. The only place I felt able to gather a little creative energy together was in the wrapping of my meager gifts. Originally, I wasn't going to wrap gifts at all but then decided to do some minimal wrapping, like tissue with a rubber band holding it together. Then I got the inspired idea, I thought, of inserting parts of plants into the wrapping. No blooms were used but leaves and berries. Needless to say it was completely overlooked and probably not understood by my clan but it was a good thing. Just wait, next year it'll be all the rage.

My Little Tree

Le Vrai Holidays

I can't believe it is Christmas time already! I'm really not prepared for the holiday season or any of its trappings. I think I've about had it with the over Christianizing of the season and the sappy Santa who may be always cheery but will still deliver coal to a bad child. The season is actually owned by the retail industry and is there chance to bring up profit margins that have been lagging over the year. It's a time to increase personal debt trying to keep up with the Jones's and please everyone around oneself. I don't object to someone wishing me a "Merry Christmas," because most people are not thinking about the birth of Christ anyway (Christ's Mass). What I object to is Christians trying to convince others that the holiday season is really about their spiritual practice and we should all remind ourselves of this and act accordingly. The birth of Christ, most scholars believe took place earlier in the year and only came to be celebrated in December to upset the winter solstice/Yule celebrations. In other words, by throwing the blanket of the birth of Christ over the winter solstice and Yule, the Christians have attempted to wipe out the earlier Pagan celebrations. They nearly succeeded. However, traditions as old as Pagan born are not so easily subverted. Suppressed, perhaps, but not gone. Many Pagan groups across the globe will be celebrating both the coming winter solstice and/or lighting of the Yule Log. Ultimately, it doesn't matter whether you celebrate as a Pagan, a Jew, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Native American, a Christian, or otherwise. The point is not to suppress all other spiritual paths under one but to celebrate now and at other times the creative spirit that has found so many paths leading to the same goal. Call it what you will... enlightenment, rebirth, saved... it's essentially the same concept.

Enjoy the holiday season whatever holiday you choose!

Children of Men

Last night I watched the film Children of Men and was mildly astonished. I had held off going to see the film when it was in the cinema, mostly due to the poor representation from the preview. Sometimes (Often) I wonder just what movie studios have in mind when putting a trailer together. Either the trailers reveal too much or they totally confuse the viewer as to what the story is actually about. In Children of Men, I thought the film was simply about infertility and the race to save the last pregnant woman alive, but it's much more than that. The film encapsulates so much of the angst and unsettled political climate in the world today, such as rampant terrorism, governments out of control, mass hysteria, and complete chaos. The lives of westerners today, especially here in the U.S., is very sheltered from the reality of life in most other countries and what a day to day existence is like in the presence of constant war. Westerners see it in the media and attempt to empathize with those suffering around the world, but the reality escapes most. For me, this film made that reality present and felt even though it is set in the future. The base story is that humans have lost their ability to propagate, but as the society ages and closes in on extinction, it becomes increasingly more violent. The entire educational system becomes unnecessary and all the people in that industry are out of work. Families disintegrate. Infrastructure begins to crumble as more people die off and there's no one left to replace them. When the pregnant woman is discovered, there are factions who see her as a savior and those who want to crucify her because they are afraid the hope she brings will destroy the chaos they've become accustomed too. Sounds familiar.

I'm no film critic but I highly recommend this film to anyone who is concerned about the world today and the impact of governments fighting for supremacy. I guess what I want to convey is that there's much more to Children of Men than just the base story. Also, there's a terrific documentary in the Special Features that is made up of various established philosophers and cultural critics giving their take on the world today, where it is going, what is affecting it, etc. over images of the decay taking place across the globe. It's really as fascinating on its own merits as the film is.

Thankful for Long-Term Friends

Every year on this day, people the world over (or at least those who celebrate Thanksgiving the world over) think about what they are thankful for. For many it is family, while for others it is jobs and security. For me it's my friends. I don't mean the people I see day to day or have an occasional outing with. I also don't mean the ones who gave up when conflict came down the road, those are the worst. I mean the ones who remain your friends because it's important for them to do so. It's a two-way street of course. I work at remaining friends with those who work at keeping our friendship alive too. Although, I do think about the ones who've gone away for whatever their reasons were and there are some that I consciously separated myself from as well. We all have enough stress and conflict in our lives without placing ourselves in caustic relationships just because we had been there already. Bad friendships do offer some comfort but aren't ultimately worth the aggravation. Anyway, I want to talk about the friends that have stayed with me over the years and how important their friendships are to me.

Christina:

I've known Christina longer than anyone else. We originally me in college as freshmen at Columbia. She was a theatre major and I was liberal arts. We've known each other for almost twenty years. She's always been a strong supporter of any of my various endeavors. She's always been there for emotional support. And she has always been completely accepting of my views and personality. It's not to say we don't have our differences. Her world view and mine are very different. Her politics and mine are worlds apart. Really her spiritual beliefs are antithetical to mine. We shouldn't be as good of friends as we are, but that's what lasting friendships are built upon, vast differences. Today, Christina is a single mother of a very bright nine year old. She manages to keep a comfortable home for her and her daughter, keep her child in private school, and avail a little time for herself, while constantly keeping in touch with me. Did I mention we live on opposite ends of the U.S.?

Tamara:

I met Tamara while in a fiction writing class at Columbia. She already held a master's in English Lit but wanted to take a class to help with her personal writing. I was just fulfilling credits toward my Liberal Arts degree. The class was so absurd! There was a separation at Columbia between those who wrote/studied poetry and those who studied all other forms of creative writing. It came from a division in the ranks essentially because the director of the Creative Writing program insisted on their method for achieving results. The faculty who taught poetry and predominantly came from English backgrounds could work within the rather strict confines of the Creative Writing department. We had to sit in a perfect semi-circle. The instructor would not begin until this was achieved. We had to ONLY use descriptive language in the present tense (there is, I see, I want, etc.) and we had to perform these word games meant to infuse creativity but would often fall into sneering criticism if the word given was not considered (what?) "proper" by the instructor. I would offer up words like succubus and malignancy, but was regularly asked to come up with another word. This would cause Tamara and I to fall into hysterics, well giggles anyway. As it happened, Tamara was the only person from the class I stayed in touch with and we've remained friends to this day. We were in that class about fifteen years ago and since then, Tamara has been divorced, received another master's degree, and managed to start a profitable antique jewelry business while teaching English Comp on the side. I relish our conversations which are filled with big life questions, literature, politics, and reams of intimate details and trials within our own lives.

Heather:

Heather and I met while working together at Zambrana's Food Emporium. It was one of those gourmet grocery, bakery, and flowers kind of places that should be still around except for the unscrupulous business practices of its namesake and subsequent owners. Heather is a fantastic, but under recognized visual artist (link to the right) and resides in Germany with her husband Boris. I originally approached Heather because she reminded me of another girl I once knew in college and I'm very glad I did because our friendship has grown ever since. I took my first trip to Europe to visit her in Cologne and she has since sought me out during trips to the states to see her family. Here's a friendship that could easily have gone by the wayside, her on another continent, but once again, we work at keeping it going because it's important.

Ruthann:

Ruthann is a pagan, a witch, a high priestess, and a great friend. I met Ruthann during one of my many breaks from academic study. I was disillusioned with my studies and life in general and I began seeking a more spiritual path than the Christian one I had been raised under. At that time in Chicago, there were quite a few actively open Wiccan groups practicing throughout the Chicago area. There were New Age and occult bookstores, as well as multiple pagan publications. I found Ruthann and her circle, Akasha, in one such zine. After attending a couple of Esbats, I knew I had found what I was looking for and in Ruthann I found another life long friend. Over the years, I fell away from the pagan community and my study of the Craft but Ruthann only grew in her own. She would eventually become associated with the largest online school of witchcraft in the world. Today she works on a smaller scale with more personal goals in mind but has remained a constant presence in my life and helped renew my own interest in Craft studies.

Lisa:

I haven't known Lisa quite as long but value her friendship all the same. Lisa I were neighbors. I lived above her and we would spend many mornings, afternoons, or evenings on the porch drinking coffee or tea and just talking about our lives. I miss having her as a neighbor and the easy camaraderie between the two of us. She was the kind of neighbor I could get a cup of sugar from, not that I ever needed to, but I did borrow albums from her excellent collection. We were both temporarily active in the local CAPS meetings due to nefarious activities going on in the building next to us. We would ride our bikes together (she rides hers as a main form of transport) and go to park festivals. I spent one very enjoyable Thanksgiving with her family. Now that I no longer live in Chicago, we're reduced to occasional emails, but we are both putting in the effort to remain in touch, and sometimes, that's enough.

Yes, all women. I can't begin to explain that fact. Women simply make great friends, I guess. There are others that I'm not as in touch with but value our friendships too like Jamie, Jacque, and Cathie. There are, however, no men. Hm.

American Life

follow the grain of natural being, the white existential
model looks exhaustive into the demonic art and unhappy
prophetic social vision powers unconscious American streets

hysterically excessive and frantically active in a constant
cumulative threat dependent on parallelism and repetition of sound
soaring and plunging from one line to the next, insisting

for spirit in the face of a materialistic culture, burning the present
awareness of regenerative possibilities novel about turbulence
jumping off ecstatic copulations by the propelling torrential quality

forbidden, impulses and primitive energies form a repressive
sheer nightmarish momentum of purgatorial subway rides
always aware of growing older and saddened by this spontaneity

unshaped lives free of preimposed horrors of ideological stasis
misread as a remarkable fusion makes a mockery of security
through the figure of the imperfect man, an exuberant anarchism

the refrain is a reminder of the effects of disorder uncontained
a function of speed saliently tapped the distinguishing strain
reflected in an extraordinary hyperactivity that determines values

conflict between demands of Self and union with nature begins
to seek escape from the spiritually corrupting materialism rooted
isolating a more profound sense than hitchhiking ever provided

shamanistic implications howl like too much money collapsing
the overflowing ebullient doom in Western culture dominating
the virtue of poverty and fiction encourage shared attitudes

essentially distrustful of industry and its mechanical aristocracy
optimistically proclaiming with egalitarian gusto the newness
an era of ominous malaise vigorously sustained by war

Samhain altar

Samhain Again

The Celtic new year fell on a Wednesday this year as all the pagans out there know. As for the rest of you it was Halloween. Of course, there aren't really any Celts out there who celebrate the new year anymore but there are tons of pagans. I've been a practicing something or other for the better part of twenty-five years. I say "something or other" because what I do has never really fell into anything specifically recognizable. Although, I always feel rather witchy in the fall and so my Samhain was a return to my witchy ways. It had been a while since I last participated in a Samhain eve celebration and I wasn't sure I had what I needed to bring it together. However, as with any spiritual practice, you don't really need anything but a desire. As it happened, I found everything I needed right around the house. I guess once you've aligned yourself with mystical energies, whatever you may need to express that alignment is always close at hand even if it's been a while. You can see in the picture of the altar I constructed. I used candles of course and I used my Tarot deck for many representations of deities and universal energies. There were also recognizable symbols for each of the four elements like birds for air, incense for fire (could be air too), water, and a stone for earth. The point is to do what feels right for the practitioner. I could never respond to any spiritual practice that held too stringently to anything specific. I used my time within the circle and between the worlds to meditate on my spiritual guides and those who have gone on, since All Hallows Eve is the best time to be in touch with the dead. I'm normally very introspective, but the fall draws me even more into myself and I become aware of the movement of the Earth until New Year's, then I begin to focus on goals for the coming year.

Blessed Be!

The Feel of Forty

After fighting it off with some vigor, determination, and brute force, my fourth decade has managed to take me full-force with as little effort as the turning of the clock. However, what I realized immediately is that forty doesn't feel any different from any age prior except for twenty-one. Not even eighteen was all that spectacular, because, at the time, I couldn't yet comprehend the power of the vote or the coming responsibilities of adulthood. Twenty-one, however, ended past years of illegal drinking and false ids. No longer did I wonder whether my brother's id would be accepted as my own. Door persons everywhere couldn't argue the validity of the numbers.

I was born in 1967, The Summer of Love. It was a time of free love and experimentation. Young people were coming out of the repressive fifties through rock and roll, folk ballads, psychedelics, and sex. I was born under the sign of Libra and its [un]balanced scales have influenced my life ever since.

My life has gone through as many changes as the earth has gone through its own seasons. Every time I knew what I wanted to do, something would come along and change my perspective and my flimsy determination would bend with the wind. The truth is, I have always thirst for greater knowledge. I felt cut-off throughout grammar and high school, and it wasn't until my early days of college that my learning really took off. Some people think of me as a writer, some more specifically as a poet, while others see me as a philosopher or thinker (dreamer), and more still as a generally creative person. All those aspects are part of me, but none are the sole (soul) of me. What I'm discovering as I continue my journey through this life is that I've always been drawn toward helping others, even unconsciously. I'm regularly thinking about people I know now and those I'm no longer in touch with. There are people who have moved out of my life (and I from theirs) both on good and very bad terms, but I still think about all of them. I think about the times we talked and listened. I've always had a talent for drawing people out, not for advantage, but through trust. I believe that open communication has a healing effect on those involved, whether between two or more people. Releasing burdens, secrets, lies, and also sharing good experiences too is healing for our spirits (souls, karma, etc.) and acts as a catalyst for positive results in our lives. This talent in me is important but not in and of itself. It's a base for something greater. I'm working on some things to help effect greater healing to others and our world. My desires for personal wealth have significantly dimmed as have my unsatisfying work to acquire material things that I thought would bring me happiness. I'm making less money now than I have since I was twenty-three years old, but my job only gets from me what it needs so that I can focus on where my life is going and work toward its goal.

So how does forty feel? It feels great! But more importantly is what have I learned thus far and what is still to come? I've learned that the real essence of life (the life of life) is how one's life effects others. I've learned that there is not one reason why I am here, but many. I've learned there is not one path to follow, but many. In every instance where there seems to be a cut and dry answer, there is another way. When it is said that everything is connected from the most minute molecule to the farthest reaches of the unknown universe, that is ultimate truth. Each day, my awareness expands a little more (here lies real growth) and I know for sure that I know very little.

Sleazy Salesman 101

I think it was a bad sign when on the eve of my foray into car sales I saw both a mysterious mushroom-like cloud and a murder of crows. All right, maybe those two things had nothing to do with it but after two very long weeks of supposed training my infamous car sales career began and ended in a single day. Flash back two weeks. It's the Tuesday after Labor Day and I decide on a whim to follow up a lead for a car sales job with the words "no experience" in block print all around the outside of the ad like a seam holding its lies in the newspaper.

Toyota Dealership seeks
Gullible and Uneducated
for Unrealistic Earnings.
No Experience Wanted
Generous Commissions
First Year Earnings 75-80k
Paid Training 12.50/hour

Essentially, I figured I'd go down, apply and then be sent on my merry way. Unfortunately, I quickly learned that the company was run by the gullible and uneducated. Why they had me fill out an application is uncertain, because they couldn't possibly comprehend it. My resume was tucked inside and the interviewer, a voluminous Captain K character, pretty much asked one question. "Why car sales." I made the mistake of giving him the only answer he wanted, "I want to make money."

"Money, money, money
Makes the world go 'round, the world go 'round, the world go 'round"

Captain K stepped away from the desk for a minute to supposedly confer with his manager and then returned to tell me I was in. I think my heart sank, that is, plummeted and made a sound as it bounced on the floor. "I have a training class that began this morning, but it's full," he said. Later I'd find this statement to be total BS but at that moment I felt challenged, so I said, "I was hoping to get something going today. Surely, whatever I've missed and I can pick up." Captain K went away again to confer with his manager. A moment later he returned and asked if I was ready to head over to the training class. Looking back, I should have said I'd start in the next training class as I had an appointment with Kmart for a cashier position. I would've said it was the employee discount that was drawing me and if he could set up something similar with Toyota, then I'd be more inclined to stay. As it was I was abducted into Car Sales 101 for the next two weeks.

The "full" class I encountered was five guys, all of which had been sitting around all morning with nothing to do. This would happen frequently because Captain K would take frequent breaks throughout the day and disappear for extended periods of time. We introduced ourselves and I quickly found out there was more education in that tiny training room than in all of the Toyota dealership combined. One guy had a master's in philosophy, another had been in the military and had a bachelor's in engineering, while another had a degree in risk management. What brought us all to this place?

"Money, money, money
Makes the world go 'round, the world go 'round, the world go 'round"

The Philosopher and I were suckered by the ad. Creative types and intellectuals are always duped by dollar signs like a dear caught in the headlights. Close your eyes, run, it's evil. All type ads should be viewed by its reflection only, otherwise you're slowly turned stone cold, stupid, and your education fades away. Risk management guy simply thought it would be a good place to work. Clearly his planets were misaligned. He actually went in and just applied on the very day the dealership was looking for new victims, like a hungry Venus flytrap. Snap! The military man had a previous career in sales and was slated for Cadillac anyway. There were two others but both were gone by Thursday.

Our trainer was a former musician and had toured with the likes of Tom Petty (who hated him), the Bellamy Brothers (who he drove for), and Merle Haggard (who is shorter in person). He claimed to have had some success in the business but the woman he wanted to marry insisted he get a stable job. He had previously sold t-shirts on tours and figured car sales were the next step. He's living proof of the destructive nature of sales on the creative person. He was also severely diabetic and treated his body like a starving candy machine. His highs and lows were so unpredictable, even he didn't see them coming. We had to watch our every word. A mistimed joke or off-hand comment would launch Captain K into a tirade.

"I so sick of this shit, this is fucking serious, I'm trying to teach you boys how to make some money."
"Fucking listen up."
"Just shut up!"
"Do you want to leave, because I don't need to put up with this fucking shit?”
"Motherfucker!"

He referred to us all as boys even though the military man was older than he. Throughout the training he kept emphasizing personal integrity but had none to show and professionalism but wasn't professional. Strangely missing was any mention of respect either for your customers or your associates. In fact, we were daily warned that the other salespersons would do everything in their power to get rid of us. He even shared a confidential report from a previous saleslady who was physically threatened by another salesman and the company sided with her accuser because he made sales.

"Money, money, money
Makes the world go 'round, the world go 'round, the world go 'round"

Each day we would arrive at 8:45 and then wait until 9-ish for Captain K to show up. We would then proceed to make our way through the training manual he wrote, which was littered with signs of his illiteracy and complete disregard for English grammar. His manual was filled with the typical array of sales beatitudes. It included a ten-step guide to success probably adapted from a Tony Robbins video.

HOW TO STUMP THE CHUMPS IN TEN EASY STEPS

1. HOW TO THINK IS EVERYTHING:
Every customer is a potential commission and your fellow salesmen are obstacles to that commission. Propagate a negative environment. Proactively feed their minds with your hatred.

2. GIVE UP DREAMING AND FOCUS ON FINANCIAL GOALS:
Make a list of anything you've ever dreamed about doing, then, for each dream, cross it out and write how you could be making money instead.

3. TAKE ACTION:
Constantly refer back to number one, both by reading it as your daily affirmation and by believing you are Number One.

4. STOP LEARNING:
Avoid any and all education at all costs. Education will distract you. Education leads to free thinking, creativity, and liberalism. Refer back to number one; it has everything you need to know.

5. BE MEAN:
Success is an advantage to take everyone you can. Don't be afraid to punch them when they're down, this will lead to increased earnings.

6. MANIPULATE DETAILS:
Construe the facts. If a situation is not in your favor, then change whatever you can to make it so. If you can steal a deal, steal it. If you can steal half a deal, take half.

7. SPEND YOUR MONEY AND WASTE TIME:
You have to spend money to make money. If you seem successful, people will be taken in by you. If you seem like you have all the time in the world, then those around you will drop their guard and you will have the advantage. Refer back to Number One.

8. LIE, CHEAT, AND AVOID 100% RESPONSIBILITY:
Otherwise, numbers 1-7 won't matter.

The fact that the ten steps are completed in eight is par for the course. Then, when we weren't spending out time going over sales strategies, we would venture over to the dealership and walk around cars. The "Six Point Walk Around" is the salesman's tactic to lure their victims into buying cars they neither want nor need.

"The vehicle gets excellent gas mileage, both city and highway. It has ABC breaks, Airbags, and Vehicle Stability Control. Plush interiors are ergonomically designed to make driving a pleasure. Have a seat and I'll take you for a test drive. Make sure all limbs are inside the vehicle before the ride commences."

Upon the return from the drive, the victim is asked to purchase the vehicle for the first of many times. If the victim has a trade-in, the next step is the "Silent Appraisal". The vehicle will be appraised by the used car manager who will seek every conceivable reason to downgrade the value of a trade-in, while the Silent Appraisal is to give the salesperson an opportunity to set their victim up for the disappointment to come. The salesperson walks silently around the victim's vehicle with a critical eye and makes numerous notations. He may rub his hand across the finish or place a pen up to the tire tread. He may nod or shake his head, all the while eroding the victim's confidence that they will get a good value for their trade.

At this point, the salesperson will take the victim into his den and attempt to insert his blood sucking fangs into the most prevalent artery. He will give his victim the impression that he is working in their best interest to get them the best possible deal.

"Alright, your new vehicle is 24,999. After your trade and savings, the difference is 14, 999. With tax, fees, and title, and your current pay-off on your trade of fifteen thousand, this gives you an out the door total of 35,999. With as little as 5000 down, we can get you a payment of 600-675 a month. Just sign here."

The victim feels immediately confused and disoriented. It's the poison beginning to take effect. How did the price go from thirty thousand down to fifteen thousand and up to thirty-five thousand? The victim may or may not argue the numbers. The salesperson may return to his manager's desk frequently as his victim is left to sort through the myriad of legal-looking paperwork. "Sign here, and here, and here, and here, and here, and here, and here, and here. Please initial everywhere you've already signed." The idea is to wear the victim down. Drag out the process until the victim becomes subdued and agrees just to escape. Once their name is on the dotted lines, the deal is done.

"Money, money, money
Makes the world go 'round, the world go 'round, the world go 'round"

I spent one day on the sales lot. I arrived early to survey the inventory of new and used vehicles. I had my introduction ready and steadied myself for the expected assault from the other salespeople. It was subtle at first but quickly intensified as the day wore on. Most salespeople were generally friendly at the start of the day. We were all herded into a small sales meeting room where the General Manager tallied sales for each salesperson thus far in the month. He passed out commission checks from the previous week’s sales with many hoots and hollers, kind of like watching a football game in some sports bar. It was all about building the sales team up for another day and duping customers. Some of the salespersons’ hackles went up as soon as they saw there were new guys in their lair. One guy acted all offended as I slid in front of him to reach an open seat. He said, “Excuse me!” and looked me up and down. As my fellow trainee passed by he said, “Let me open my legs a little wider for you to get in.” Ew. Our trainer, Captain K, asked us to introduce ourselves and then we were basically off.

If you didn’t have an expected appointment, then you perched yourself in front of the dealership like a raptor awaiting prey, waiting for customers, known as Ups, to pull in. In an honorable environment, each salesperson would take their best sales pitch to each customer in order as they arrived. However, in car sales there is no honor and every time a customer arrived, the salespeople would descend like a plague of flies. Strangely, few customers took to this tactic. I watched the desperation of sales attempts fail time and again and quickly grew weary of being there. At one point, one cocky salesperson walked up to me, lit a cigarette and said, “That guy walked in front of you and made $1500 and you got nothing.” I said I learned something, which was no honor among thieves, but I also knew that the customer left without buying. My friend the philosopher asked the cocky salesperson how long he had been married, which sent him scurrying away. I’m not sure what happened there. I wondered around back where everyone parks and noticed most of the salespeople drove old cars and few Toyotas in the bunch. Odd. I looked around and wondered what I was doing there. I knew I could never survive in an environment where everyone was out for himself and had no respect for anyone around him. I walked over to my car, stepped in, rolled down all the windows, put on the radio, and sped away.

STEPS TO BUYING A CAR

Be strong! Make an outrageous offer like the actual MSRP is all you will pay. Insist that the total amount of trade and savings be separated on the offer. The mysterious “trade and savings” amount is not even known to the salesperson, it’s calculated by the sales desk and supposedly constitutes both the trade-in and any incentives being offered. Your salesperson will tell you your offer is impossible. Leave quickly after. At this point, the victim has regained control. What happens now will depend on the salesperson's day. If they can't snag another victim or they need your sale to make their monthly quota, expect a call late in the afternoon with an acceptance of your offer.

1. EDUCATION IS EVERYTHING:
Know the vehicle you want before going to the dealership. Research online. Know the MSRP and any incentives before you arrive. When you're first accosted by salesperson on the lot, ask them how long they've been in the business. Whoever states the least amount of time in the industry, then work with that person.

2. KEEP THE SALESPERSON CONFUSED:
While the salesperson is talking about the vehicle, pull out your cell phone as if taking a call. When the salesperson walks around the car pointing out selling features, walk the opposite way around the vehicle. Insist on a test drive before the salesperson can complete their presentation. Insist that they drive first off the lot so you can grill them on all the features the vehicle offers. Pull out a printout from the web and ask as many questions as possible. While the salesperson is making empty promises to get the answers you seek, indignantly ask if you're to be allowed to test-drive the vehicle you want to buy. While driving, DO NOT SPEAK to the salesperson. If you're there with a friend or spouse, speak to each other as if the salesperson isn't there. This will unnerve him. While the salesperson is "appraising" your trade-in, tell them you've changed your mind and will not be trading the vehicle. After the numbers are presented the first time, change your mind again and include the trade. Every time the salesperson leaves you alone at the desk, get up and wander away. Make him look for you every time. DO NOT SIGN anything! Make your offer based on the MSRP minus incentives and trade. DO NOT include tax, "fees", or title, or any amount you might owe on your trade.

3. SHOP AROUND AND USE 1 AND 2 IN EACH SITUATION:
Someone will cave and you'll walk away strangely satisfied.

I Wanna Sell You a Car!

I'm afraid it's true. I've been floundering around for months trying to get some kind of profitable work going down here and recently had what was a unique experience for me. I saw an ad in the Sunday paper looking for salespeople with no experience who were interested in making between 70-90k their first year. Who wouldn't? I had nothing to loose by applying except not being hired, so I got all dressed up (tie included) and drove down to the dealership the Tuesday after Labor Day. My visit began inauspiciously as the receptionist handed me a lengthy application and I proceeded to fill in the spaces and think about what I would say regarding gaps in my history. I have a lot of gaps. lol. Once completed, I took the application up to the service desk and was politely told that the guy doing the interviews was at another building but would be over in 10-15 minutes. I was directed to a little waiting room with TV and coffee. I began browsing a real estate magazine. Not too long after , a very affable , Captain Kangaroo-like guy came by and directed me over to one of the open desks. He glanced at my resume and asked me why I wanted to work in car sales. I was very blunt. I said I believed I was worth more money than I ever made and believed I could achieve it in car sales. He said he like my energy and the way I presented myself and hired me on the spot. He said he had a training class that had just begun that morning. I asked if I could get in. He acted as if he would have to work it out, but I now believe that was just a game. No matter. I literally went from applying for a job and right over to my first day of training in my trainer's car.

I've since spent the last three days, about 8-9 hours each day, learning to sell cars. I've been surprised to learn that, at least at this dealership, car salespeople are not out to swindle buyers. While the retail markup on general goods is around 300%, the markup on a vehicle is about 15%. Profits on a single vehicle are actually much less than one might think. Also, every dealership who sells a particular type of vehicle pays the same amount for that car. It's a standard fee charged by the manufacturer. The deal is created between the seller and the buyer. I've also learned that the value of a trade-in is always much less than you think and it's based predominantly on market values with the condition playing a role. But, just because you have a car in excellent shape with low miles, it doesn't mean the dealership can give you anything close to its original value unless it's a vehicle with a strong market value (i.e., highly desirable). So I got another week of training yet and then we'll see if I can pull this off. Wish me luck and if you're interested in a new Toyota/Scion ... give me a call.

The Metaphysical Comedians

Little-Michael:

I believe it was Big Dan who said we should start our own school of poetry. He was an instigator. If there wasn’t something he wanted already in place, then Big Dan would create it. It was Dan who really formed our circle of writers, small though it was, and it was Dan who placed Sister Clara as our guiding patron. We were four and I suppose we fully expected there would be more in time. Essentially, anyone who has been taught by Sister Clara or follows her principles of poetry is a metaphysical comedian whether they may call themselves or not. However, the four of us were the first or core group. There was Big Dan, Sister Clara, Little-Michael, and Sheridan.

One afternoon, sitting around in our cramped quarters, four desks in a tight circle and the fall gray sun seeping through the window, it was Big Dan who said we should all have poet names. He said I reminded him of a family of traveling circus performers. The Flying Staples, trapeze artists extraordinaire, featuring little Michael and their signature brand of high-flying excitement. Watch as the Staples pass little Michael from arm to leg to leg to arm with somersaults in between. You’ll be awed by the Staples family’s daring dance with death in defiance of gravity high above the Big Top. I was known as Little- Michael for a long time after and in some circles I still am.

However, I also had another side to my personality, a darker side. Sister Clara called me the Witch Poet and lovingly Witchipoo, homage to H.R. Puffin Stuff, which didn’t hold up well in adulthood. I was openly into the occult and used it in my writing. I was not so openly practicing witchcraft with a coven on the west side, but that’s another story. Occult themes continue to influence my work today but the title of Witch Poet was never as strong as Little-Michael.

It was Sister Clara and I who came up with Big Dan. We tried for hours (many minutes) to think of something more inspired but sometimes the simplest is also the more profound. He’s big and he’s Dan. His bigness expresses itself in his personality, his writing, his physicality, his bold nature, and his indomitable spirit. There’s a lot to love about Big Dan. If it wasn’t for Big Dan, the metaphysical comedians would never have been. Nor would there have been our sprightly core group, the fabulous four, our glamorous names and backgrounds, or the ill-fated Bathos Journal. We owe a lot to Big Dan. Where is Big Dan anyway?

Sheridan was introspective, intellectual, and mysterious. She lived with a rare book collector who never read, nor allowed anyone else to read, his books. She had a pale complexion in a Parisian sort of way and shoulder length, light-blonde hair. Everything about Sheridan was light. She carried an illumination within. Sheridan had a keen sense for understanding the hidden depths of her fellow writers work. At times, when I used occult terms and ideas in my poems, it was Sheridan who most often knew what I was talking about. Sheridan had won the Lannan award the previous year, while I received it as a co-winner that year. We would often attend poetry readings sponsored by the college together, stopping first at the little Thai place across the street for the best Pad Thai I’d ever had. In many ways, Sheridan would go on to lead a rather eighteenth century life, caring for aging parents while remaining reclusive from everyone she once knew. A friend of mine once met her book collector boyfriend who refused to pass along a message to her from me. He said it wasn’t a good time for her and that was all.

I always felt close to Sister Clara but she was the hardest for me to retain a friendship with. Clara introduced me to poetry before I ever met Big Dan or Sheridan. She was very understated when it came to her own work. She had published a book at the time and would soon have another. She would go on to win the coveted Whiting Award but would come and go from poetry circles. Poetry was like a loose thread in her cassock that occasionally required mending. I always felt she had a rather enchanted life but I know she wrestled with demons too. Don’t we all? I believe she truly sought the solace of the convent but had no time for any of its tenets. She was married to a mad scientist who studied institutional alchemy, or was it biochemistry, supported her altruistic endeavors, and moved around a lot. I don’t remember ever having met the man but surely I must have once. When Big Dan and I visited her in DeKalb, I don’t believe the scientist was there, nor when we traveled out to New Hampshire. Maybe I haven’t met him, but Big Dan has, so he must be real.

Our poetry workshop was supposed to be a four-hour marathon of institutional creativeness, but we often felt tapped out by the end of the third hour. We would escape the collegiate confines and make our way to The Closet, an infamous watering hole in Boystown. However, Sheridan never came with us. I don’t recall if she was working at the time or had to attend to the book collector. Anyway, the three of us would spend the afternoon sipping cocktails, bloodymarys with beer chasers, while discussing everything under the sun. I believe it was in The Closet that Bathos Journal was born. Big Dan felt we needed our own poetry journal where metaphysical comedy could be freely expressed and enjoyed by the literary community. He would go on to publish two editions, almost entirely on his own and out of his own pocket. I co-edited the second edition and was very sad to witness the journal’s demise. At the end of our gatherings in The Closet, Big Dan and I would see Sister Clara to a cab and then go our separate ways. I really diddn’t see either of them, nor Sheridan, until we met the following week.

The Metaphysical Comedians would never become known outside its own circles and its members would drift off in separate directions soon after the close of the year. Sheridan was the first to go. She announced that she was leaving the college and moving out to Sycamore to attend, what amounted to, a cheaper school. Soon after Clara and the scientist moved to New Hampshire, while Big Dan and I were left to wrap up Bathos Journal II. For a while, Big Dan worked in pornography, writing reviews. I was actually just down the street at a gift shop. Later, I would get a low-level job at an educational publisher where I floundered for a few years. I recommended Big Dan for a position at the publisher, which he was soon hired for. He would later get his former boss from the porno place a position too. I had worked my way into an editorial contract that expired and left me without any new prospects. It was around this time that Big Dan and I lost touch.

I suppose none of us believed in the group enough to keep it real.

The Ford CRC Show

The Ford CRC Show

Starring
J.T. Tolodxi
As
Pandora / Mrs. Bertha Littleman

Also Starring
Michael That’s “Michael”
As
Gay Minnerhot / Forddie

Written & Directed
By
Michael Staples

Titles
By
Don’t Call Me Mike Productions

“Relationship Building”

Scene 1

Scene opens on a typical call center environment, people in cubicles using headsets, and doing customer service work. In this office, the CSRs are known as CCRs (customer “care” reps) and specific emphasis is placed upon call handling skills to ensure customers will feel respected and understood during their calls into the center. The center takes calls related to customer’s cars and car related issues.

In a split screen, Pandora sits at her desk awaiting her next call. She’s young (22-25), short spiked hair, exhibits an urban style, slightly edgy. She’s chewing gum and sending text messages to an unknown party.
In the opposite side of the screen is Gay Minnerhot in a generic office setting preparing to make a call to the Ford CRC.

GM: Dials 800 number on his office phone. Awaits an answer while multitasking at desk, checking daily calendar, making notes, looking busy. He presses numbers on the phone in response to an automated call selection system.

P: Phone beeps, alerting Pandora of an incoming call. She has an annoyed expression, checks the status of last text sent, and prepares to answer the call.
“Yeah, hey, you’ve got Pandora. What’s happening?”

GM: Remains silent at first, clearly unsure if he’s received the correct party.
“Hello. Is this Ford customer service?”

P: Silently enunciates “Duh!” Then says:
“That’s us. Army strong. You’ve got questions. We’ve got answers. Got milk?”

GM: Stops multitasking and seems to focus on the phone as if it will make the call more clear.
“Milk? Is that a kind of car? I have a Lincoln Town Car. Have I reached the right place?”

P: “The Eagle has landed, sir. What’s your damage?”

GM: “Uh, well, this morning on my way into the office my check engine light came on. I had just had the car with my mechanic for it’s 15,ooo mile service check and everything checked out fine, so I don’t know why that warning light would be coming on.”

P: As soon as GM begins speaking about his car’s symptoms, she goes back to checking her cell phone and responding to text messages. There’s a short silence after GM finishes speaking and Pandora realizes it. She hasn’t heard anything he has said. She looks toward the screen as if she could see GM on the other side to confirm he is still with her.
“Hello?”

GM: “Yes.”

P: Disappointed her customer hasn’t hung up, she continues with the call.
“Okay, sir, so Town Car blues getting you down.”

GM: “Excuse me?”

P: She places her cell phone next to her on the desk where she can see if a new message comes in before responding to her customer.
“Alright sir, you got your VIN number handy?”

GM: “I was wondering if you were going to ask me for that. I’ve got it right here.”

P: “Shoot.”

GM: “B0Y5NTRUK5R50H0T0.”

P: Actor should write out VIN# on signboard, so audience can see it. She enters the info into her computer and checks her cell phone again while waiting for the info to come up. Dead air ensues.

GM: “Hello. Are you still there?”

P: “Yeah, yeah. Be cool. It may be the 21st century but computers are slower than ever.”

GM: “I know what you mean. My company’s server is always having problems. I’ve had to have the system upgraded more times than I care to count at a cost that seems to far exceed what it actually does for the office.”

P: While GM talks, she continues to tune him out and send text messages. GM’s info comes up and she reluctantly puts her phone down just as he wraps up.
“Alrighty then.”
She sees his name in the system and snickers as she pronounces it to herself.
“Is this, uh, Gay Minnerhot?”

GM: Not sure why she snickered, answers:
“Yes? Is something wrong?”

P: “Your mother must have had a sense of humor.”

GM: “What? What do you mean?”

P: Realizing her misstep, she blows off her comment but continues to emphasize the customer’s name.
“Nothing, Mr. Minnerhot. Gay. So, what are you wearing?”

GM: Sits back in his chair, startled.
“Excuse me?”

P: “I bet you’re well put together. Designer suits, good address, tanned, work out, blonde.”

GM: “Well, not blonde. You can see all that in the system?”

P: “Gay. Gay, Gay, Gay. I’ve got your number.”

GM: “Oh, is it 426-766-6429? Because I recently changed it to 787-2283.”

P: She shakes her head from side-to-side and simultaneously alters his number in the system. Silence ensues.

GM: “Hello?”

P: “I’m here girlfriend.”

GM: Pulls receiver away and looks at it, trying to determine if he heard right.
“What? I’m not sure what you just said.”

P: She glances at her cell phone and sees there is a message but ignores it and continues with GM.
“I said I’m here for you. What can I do for you today?”

GM: “Well, my engine light?”

P: “You want it to light up pink instead of red?”

GM: “Uh? I want to know why it’s turned on?”

P: “Okay Gay, no biggie. Well, not yet anyway.”

GM: “Not yet.”

P: “Big expensive car, big expensive problems, but don’t get all lubed up over it. You’ve got a premium warranty. It’ll all work itself out.”

GM: “So, no matter how big it is, it’ll be covered?”

P: “Shhhhurrrrre (“sure” – drawn out). Look baby. Gay. Just take your car down to your local dealership and they’ll set you up right. Okey Dokey?”

GM: “I suppose I should make an appointment? They’ll probably end up keeping it for days. I’m supposed to go clubbin this weekend”

P: “Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about the appointment, you buy a Town Car, you should expect on-the-spot service. I would. And if they have to keep your car overnight, they’ll surely give you a loaner. Probably not a Town Car though, probably a Chevy Cavalier, which aren’t bad, I drive a Cavalier. They’re smallish, takes you down a notch, but great on gas.”

GM: “You drive a Chevy?”

P: “What?! You think they give us cars around here? Okay, okay, we get a kinda discount, but you still gotta come up with a bundle. And for what they pay me here, that bundle is too big for me. I have to leave big for guys like you that can take it.”

GM: “Alright, well, thanks.”

P: “Yep, anytime Gay. Don’t get into any trouble now. We’ll be seeing you. I’ll look for you at the Pride parade.”
She releases the call.

GM: Line goes dead. He slowly places the receiver back on the hook, slightly bewildered, shakes his head and returns to work.

Pandora picks up her phone and returns to sending text messages. Someone, dressed professionally, comes up behind her unawares and taps her shoulder. She stops mid text, looks over to her shoulder and then up toward the visitor with a look of surprise.

Scene Ends.

Commercial Break

“Ford Built for All Lifestyles”

A guy and a girl, who are friends, are roaming through a Ford car lot looking at new vehicles. They are both in their mid twenties. The girl wears comfortable jeans, tennis shoes, and a breast cancer awareness t-shirt. She is slightly shorter than her companion and attractive in an athletic way. The guy wears tight fitting Levis, motorcycle boots, and a black tank top. He is tanned and obviously works out.

Girl: “Wow, have you ever seen so many trucks?”

Guy: “And, girl, check out that hot Mustang.”

Girl: Playfully punches man in the arm.
“What’s the matter with you? We just totaled my truck.”

Guy: Rubs arm as if punch actually hurt.
“Ow! Okay, was there too. Was driving. Was little bit tipsy.

Girl: “Was Drunk!”

Guy: “Anyway, that Chevy was a piece of crap. Don’t we want someone small and sporty?”

Girl: “Someone?”

Guy: “Who?”

Girl: “You said don’t we want someone small and sporty.”

Guy: “Oh no girlfriend, we’ve been there already. How about a truck?”

Girl: “Good choice.”

Back to the Show

Scene 2

In a split screen, Bertha Littleman, an 80 year old woman, sits at her kitchen table, writing letters, and looks over to the phone. She picks up a car brochure, looks it over, and then spies a phone number on the backside. She picks up her phone and dials the number.

On the opposite side of the screen, Forddie, a professional looking young man sits alert at his desk, looking over some papers. The call centerline beebs in Forddie’s headset, alerting him of an incoming call.
“Hello. Thank you for calling Ford Motor Company. My name is Forddie. Are you calling about your vehicle?”

BL: Speaking slowly “Uh, yes young man. I’m assuming you’re a young man. Your voice sounds like my dear nephew’s. He’s 19 and just graduated from high school, but he’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do next. His name is Ronny. Want to meet him? I’m sure you two would hit it off. I have a feeling about these things.”

F: “Uh, are you calling about your vehicle?”

BL: “Oh, yes. Sorry, I got a bit off track.” Laughs to herself.

F: “No problem, ma’am. How may I assist you?”

BL: “Well, I’m having some trouble with my car, you see. It’s making some pretty odd noises, a sort of chunkity-chunkity, blunk blunk, chunkity-chunkity, blunk blunk. Then all this blue smoke just shoots out the back like I just fired my grandaddy’s rifle. I tell you, it’s causing quite a ruckus around town. People are pointing and saying, “Look at old Bertha Littleman in her big green car.” What a sight! I’m not use to putting on a show. I come from quiet people who live private lives, you see.”

F: “I can see how that would be frustrating for you. Can you please give me your Vehicle Identification Number?”

BL: “Uh, what’s that sweetie?”

F: Reads like a public service announcement. “It’s the 17 digit number that identifies your vehicle and is unique to it. It’s usually listed on your insurance card, car title, registration, and on various places on the vehicle itself.”

BL: “Oh my. Well, let’s see.”
She begins to look through her purse, pulling out odd, random items.
“I do have my insurance card here… somewhere… surely.”

F: “If you don’t, I can try pulling up your profile by your last name and zip code.”

BL: “Hm, that may be best. A woman’s purse is a wasteland of forgotten things. That card may be out in the car. Well, my last name is Littleman. I know, it’s a funny little name.”
Laughs to herself.
“But it surely isn’t as funny as some other names. I don’t know which ones, of course.”

F: “Thank you Ms. Littleman. And your zip code?”

BL: “Ms.? Well I haven’t been called that in more than 60 years. I bet you’re wily one, young man. You and my nephew Ronny would make such good, uh, pals, I’m sure.
Silence.

F: “Mrs. Littleman?”

BL: “What was I saying? Oh yes, I became Mrs. E.Z. Littleman in 1947. I stayed married to that man for 53 years. He gave me a good life but no children. No, but I have my nephew.”

F: Looks embarrassed.
“Wow, that’s very impressive that you were married for so long. Um, may I have your zip code, please?”

BL: “Oh right, uh …”
She picks up an envelope on her table and holding it up close, then farther back.
“I think it’s 09786. Yes.”

F: Enters numbers on keyboard.
“Thank you Mrs. Littleman. I’m just waiting for the system to pull something up.”

Momentary silence.

“There you are!”

BL: “Did you find me? That’s a sweet boy. You remind me so much of little Ronny when he was a boy.”

F: “That’s nice (stated off-handedly). So could you please verify your daytime phone number?”

BL: “Well, I could, but what do you need it for?”

F: “In case we need to call you back with any information relating to your vehicle or your call today.”

BL: “Oh, I suppose that would be alright. Of course, we’ve never actually met, so I don’t know if you should be calling my house, you see. Well, I guess it’d be alright if it were just about my car. The number is area code 999-666-7777. Is that the one you have?”

F: “Yes, thank you. Now, are you calling about your, uh, 1954 Mainliner?”

BL: “Yes. That’s the one. Oh, I’ve had that car for years and years. She’s almost as old as I am.”
Laughs aloud.

F: “You don’t sound so old to me.”

BL: “There you go again, you young men. I say! Ronny is the same way. Always giving compliments.”

F: Looking increasingly uncomfortable.
“So, when did you first experience the problems with your vehicle?”

BL: “Well, let’s see. Probably about 30 years back that sound started up but the smoke didn’t come until about a year later.”

F: “30 years ago! Okay. Uh, Mrs. Littleman, what influenced you to call Ford today?”

BL: “Well, I received this brochure in the mail for updates to my Ford stocks and they always let stockholders know what new cars they’re making. Well, your number was on the back and it says right here”
She picks up the brochure and brings it close to her face.
“Ford Customer Service Department and gives the hours and 800 number, you see.”

F: “Alright, Mrs. Littleman, so what are you seeking from Ford today?”

BL: “Well, I want to get my car fixed, I suppose. It’s certainly been long enough.”

F: Using typical call handling procedure, Forddie repeats what the customer wants in a paraphrase.“So you want to find out how to get your vehicle fixed, is that correct?”

BL: “Hard of hearing, dear.”

F: “Uh, we recommend you have your vehicle taken to an authorized Ford dealership to have them diagnose the vehicle.”

BL: “Are they car doctors?”
Laughs to herself.
“Well, I’m not quite sure where one is.”

F: “No problem. I can help you locate one that’s close to you. I’ll just put your zip code into genuineservice.com and it’ll provide all the dealerships in the area. Do you have access to the Internet?”

BL: “The what dear?”

F: “A computer for searching on the Internet.”

BL: “Oh dear no. That sounds like something my sweet Ronny would be on about. No, not me, I just don’t get all those e-lec-tronic things now-a- days. In my time, people did things for themselves and didn’t rely much on gadgets.”

F: “I can understand your point of view. I have found one station in your area. It’s Let There Be Ford at 7 times 77 Revelations Blvd in Yahwey.”

BL: “Oh yes, I know that place. My, I always thought it was some kind of church.”
Laughs.
“Well, should I call before I go?”

F: “Yes, Mrs. Littleman. The number is 999-777-7777. Just ask for the service department and they’ll set up an appointment for you to bring in your vehicle.”

BL: “Will it cost anything? I have my warranty papers in the car. They’re kind of yellowed and a bit frayed at the edges.”

F: “Unfortunately, your warranty has expired some time ago and I don’t see that you have an extended service plan on this vehicle, so this will be a customer pay situation.”

BL: “I see. Well, you have to pay for anything anymore. Surely with my old car it couldn’t be too much.”

F: “Alright Mrs. Littleman, so have I been clear with the information I’ve provided to you today and you’re next steps?”

BL: “Oh yes, young man. Thank you kindly! Are you sure I can’t introduce you and my Ronny?”

F: “I’m sure it would be a conflict of interest, but I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to assist you with your Mainliner’s concerns today and wish you a pleasant afternoon.”

BL: “Well alright. If you’re sure? Bye, bye.”

End

Melbourne's St. Pat's Day Parade

Does everyone have a St. Pat's Day Parade? Don't know, but my new town has alot of folks with alot of Irish spirit. There were the usual aray of bag pipers and Irish dancers, as well as city officials and ladies societies, lot's of marching bands, military, police, and firemen. Of course, our own Meg O'Malley's (Melbourne's main Irish Pub) sponsored the event. The city closed off the streets for the whole day! There were bands playing on street stages and inside. Lots of beer and sausages. And, for better or worse, lots of drunk people staggering about. However, I wasn't one of them.

Everything is different now.

I can't believe it took me almost 20 years to get back to Florida. I thought for many years I would never return to live here. I thought it was a fine place to visit or retire, but that the politics were too conservative for my ultra liberal nature. What I'm slowly discovering is that Florida has changed much in the last 18+ years and that there is a place for me in this red state.

Many of you have wondered how I am and how my move has gone. It's been a difficult transition but ultimately, I am very pleased. It seems I left Chicago at just the right time. As most of you know, the cold and I do not agree. The recent temperature plunges and excessive snow in the Midwest would have severely depressed me. I'm like a plant and need lots of sun to survive. Also, I had been feeling very burnt out in Chicago. I felt it had given me everything I could get out of it. I was no longer working in the city and I was living as far north as I could go without leaving the city limits. I hated going downtown. And, most surprisingly, I missed my family.

Over the Christmas holidays while in Florida, I had a stunning realization. I knew I had to return. I knew my aging parents needed me around. I already knew I loved the ocean. I simply had to make it happen. So, I did.

My new apartment is perfect for me. The rent is so cheap. I thought I would have to sacrifice all the vintage elements I admired in Chicago apartments but I've found that Florida apartments are old too. The new place was built in the 20's. It has great flow and it's spacious. Check out the pictures below. My neighbors are all very friendly and quiet. No more crazy people screaming in the night or pissing in the alley. The view out the kitchen window is a tree with a family of blue jays and other birds throughout the day. I hear the sounds of birds all the time. Outside my bedroom window is a palm tree. The place gets great light and my stuff looks better than it really is in this space. The former tenant painted the living room red and gold. I told the landlord they could leave it only if I didn't have to repaint it. I'm so glad they agreed.

I'm not actually working yet. Living the good life, as it were, but looking for the right fit. I haven't given up the idea of working in publishing but to do so I would have to commute to Orlando which is almost 2 hours away. Teaching may be a possibility in the fall. Selling insurance isn't likely. You have to be licensed and in this state, you must take an actual licensing class. I've been working a bit on my book idea and launching a joint venture publishing company with a couple friends. In the mean time, I'm just enjoying life.

Den and Kitchen: I watch the birds and write.

Bedroom: serenity at its best.

Living room: My artwork has never looked so good!

Beautiful Rogers Park 1 Bedroom

The bed room. Really big. That's a queen size bed and what you don't see are the dresser, walk-in closet, a chair, a side table, a lots of room.

The living room. Bay window overlooks Touhy Park. What you don't see are the beautiful coved ceilings, the french doors leading to the dining room, the foyer with a hall closet, and my cat who's hiding.

The dining room. I also use this room for a home office. My desk is on the other side. There are also coved ceilings in this room and two big windows overlooking the street.

Kitchen. Lots of cabinets and counter space. A porcelin sink, big fridge, and gas stove. Also, the back door to the porch.

French doors. There's something about french doors. The just add character.