The Improbability of Love

Love is an interesting concept. I swear it only comes your way about three to five times in a lifetime. It comes your way a lot when you think you’re in love with someone and then mistakenly assume that of course they’re going to respond likewise. But it doesn’t happen that way. You both have to have the same exact feeling at the exact same time and when that happens it takes an army to separate the two of you. Even when the relationship goes bad. The love game is definitely playing hard ball. And a lot of us get hurt to the point of suicide. But when it works it’s got to be a sample of what heaven could be like. But it can never be forced and it always has to be carried out by two people on the same page at the exact same moment in time. And that’s a daunting task. Having said that now I see why people stay with people who the rest of us think are not good for them. First of all it’s none of our damn business who’s good for whom. But when love happens so rarely you want to try to recapture what the spark was in the beginning. And so you put up with a horrible relationship or a horrible partner who has turned on you. I think we do this because all of us know this love thing is not going to happen but just a few times in our life.

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Just Cuz

I love it when rich people tell us that it’s “the other rich people” who are treating the poor badly, not them. But there are a lot of people who for idealogical reasons will refuse to admit that the sky is blue, “just cause.” Like in a court of law, simply opening your mouth and saying something does not make it true. Liberals hate having to prove what they say.

As Trump peels back all this corruption, it’s shocking not what Obama got away with, but how easily those on the left bought it. That’s embarrassing and pitiful.

Admitting you made a mistake, that you were wrong, and apologizing for it, shows a hint of character. Doing otherwise labels you as fool, much like an avowed racist, an old person stuck in their ways or a hermit who hides from reality.

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Writer’s block doesn’t exist here

Thank God I’ve never had a problem with writer’s block. When I taught English composition at the college level I motivated my students to start writing within seconds by offering to pay the one writer who wrote the most words. The words didn’t even have to make sense even though in most cases a writer automatically writes things that approximated making sense. Just the fact that we are alive, just the fact that we have eyes and experience the world around us makes it impossible to not be able to write about an infinite number of subjects. Granted if you want to be a writer who is read and rewarded monetarily in the writing field then of course you have to organize your thoughts better than just splashing them out on the paper. But I never have understood how someone could gaze off into the distance trying to write the perfect sentence and continue that on to creating the perfect paragraph or the perfect essay or book and become blocked due to their own preoccupation or fetish with having everything they write be perfect. It simply doesn’t have to be and it never will be. Even the great writers have moments when they’re writing is either so so or downright bad.

Perfection in writing like in other things in life is simply unattainable. It should never stand in the way of you being able to put your thoughts down on paper. As you continue to write over the years you will get better at it, you will get better at expressing yourself and having your reader know exactly what you mean and even in some cases read between the lines. But you’ll never get to that point if you simply stare at a blank sheet of paper waiting for perfection to spew forth from your brain and travel down your arm to your fingers and allow you to type the perfect words. Just start writing.

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Who’s Your Favorite Liberal?

In order not to become stale nor myopic, you need to have a friend who thinks differently than you. It keeps you humble. It helps you to grow. And they need you just as much as you need them.

I’m conservative. I would like to think that my arguments are the best in the world. I watch Fox News because I like what they say on there. I like the way they report the news. But no one would believe that Fox News is fair. I happen to think they are but again they’re heavily weighted on the conservative side. I get it. To not admit that is being blind. The other major news reporting channels are very liberal. I’ve watched them, I know.

But I’m wise enough in my old age to know that in order to still grow as we get older you have to surround yourself by people who might not think the same way you do. It keeps you fresh. It keeps you honest. And it mentally challenges you.

So my favorite Liberals are Kirsten Powers, one of the greatest writers on the planet. I so hated to see her leave Fox and still miss her. And Bob Beckel. Who could not like Bob? Geraldo Rivera. What I like about Geraldo is at least he will admit when he’s wrong. He’s friends with the people with whom he debates.

Yes we should all have friends who don’t think like us. In this day and age when people are becoming more intolerant of any disagreement I think it’s vitally important to keep friends around you who have different viewpoints on all the issues. It goes back to my Christian faith and the tenant of remaining humble throughout your life. None of us have all the answers. Only by discussing the issues with people who have a different way of looking at the issues do we remain humble. And humility in discourse is a virtue.

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Imaginary Wife

By
Tim Daughtry

“Last night was great,” Jason said to his wife Anne. She was just rolling over and waking up to his words which reminded her of their amorous lovemaking the night before.
“Yes it was,” she smiled agreeing with him.
Jason didn’t want to get out of bed. Waking up in the arms of his beautiful wife on a cool, fall morning in southern California, with sounds of the Pacific Ocean just outside their window, made him want to stay in bed with her all day. When you’re in love, there’s no one else on the planet. No one else matters. Nothing else matters. Activities become meaningless unless your lover accompanies you. But this morning, Jason wanted to stay in bed with Anne. And do what? Talk?

Anne responded to Jason’s compliment by pulling him in closer to her. For women the idea of staying in bed all day with their man, being the center of his attention, was a dream come true. They thought about it often. But part of the problem was getting their man to agree to it. Right before lovemaking they would agree to anything. But you can’t make love all the time. And staying in bed all day is irresponsible. You have things to get done. Or at least this is how men think.

Women on the other hand, can take a break from responsibility and enjoy their lover for a whole day, especially when they are in love. And that’s the key- when they are in love.

At the beginning of a relationship, either when sparks initiated the attraction or when it just felt like something was happening, love is at its peak. Sustaining that level of attraction for your lover is a whole different feeling. Anne still loved Jason more than she did herself. She would admit that she was a better person having met and fallen for him. They had been married for eight years.

Jason had never met a woman like Anne in his life. He was blind to women around him who would have previously turned his head, once he met and committed to Anne. He changed as a person when they started dating. And it wasn’t anything he tried to change; it just happened.

“Is there anything that could ever make you stop loving me?” Jason asked Anne. She had to laugh before answering. Boy could he kill the mood.
“Well, asking me questions like that right after agreeing to spend the whole day in bed with me might do it,” she half-joked.

But Jason wouldn’t give up. He figured that between all the fooling around they would do today there would be a lot of time to talk. And unlike most men he was a talker. He knew he was also facing several chick flicks throughout the course of the day and while he was okay with those kind of movies he had already put on his thinking cap and Anne could see more deep questions forming in his inquisitive head. She also anticipated that his line of questioning would at times result in him getting answers he didn’t really want. That always happened with men who loved to talk. He might ask something about a past boyfriend or get her to admit that she had had a life before him. Then he would go in to a blue funk, but just temporarily, until she jumped in and saved him. She would assure him that she meant nothing by telling the truth and if she had to she would adjust the truth to make him happy once again.

“So are you going to answer my question?” he insisted again.
“Well of course you cheating on me would kill my love for you.”
“Not that, of course we all agree on that. But is there anything else?” he asked in a way that implied he might be at risk of doing it someday.
“Well let me think.” Anne had drawn a blank. So she tried to distract him by putting her thigh on his. Nothing like a little sensuality to take a man’s mind off the rational world. He caressed her knee but still looked like he wanted an answer. Knowing how much he loved her body, her mind, her jokes, her moods, even her stubborn moments, Anne could not come up with anything other than infidelity that would cease her loving him. But there had to be something. Now he had her brain working. It was actually a very good question….
“Yes, there is one thing that would kill it for me. Really kill it.”
“Well what is it?” Jason insisted.
“I’ll tell you at the end of the day.”
“WHAT? The end of the day! What the hell, tell me now!” (See, never ask a question you might not want the answer to.)
“Anne, it’s a simple question. What’s the one thing other than infidelity that could kill the love for you?”
“Check back with me when we go to bed.” She laughed, knowing her answers were pissing Jason off to no end.
“We’re already in bed.”
“Exactly.” Anne answered.
“Exactly? Anne you’re not making sense.” Guys are such easy targets for stupidity.

“You’ll understand later dear” Anne replied in her calming voice. “Now where’s that massage you promised me?”
(Unfinished)

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Writing Sense Into Nonsense

I’m not sure what to write when I have no clear idea where I’m going. I do know that it’s more important to keep writing, to keep my pen in motion- even when I don’t have a plan. Otherwise I’ll get bogged down before even starting in the unrealistic goal to make every sentence perfect.

Half of writing is overcoming the impulse to be perfect in what you put down on paper. If your goal becomes simply perfection, your writing suffers.

Writing is sharing, sharing your life and your experiences with strangers in a way that will interest them. That’s a challenge. Imagine sharing your life with a stranger in a way that makes them become interested in your life. Believe me, not many of us are that interesting. At least not to total strangers.

Or maybe in our similarities we actually are appealing to one another. We can learn from each other. We can share mistakes and not-so-happy times and share our vulnerabilities. Or we can share successes and ecstatic times and recreate the same together or inspire one another to new successes.

Like not being certain where my writing will take me, it’s just as important to know when it’s time to stop. And then maybe by writing when I have no ideas and stopping soon after I start, I actually am able to create a moment of sense out of nonsense.

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Hit Replay- It’s Christmas

By

Tim Daughtry

I love Christmas; but then who doesn’t. Peyton and I had just finished watching Groundhog Day, when her mom, my ex-wife Beth, came into the room with a festive platter of Christmas snacks. I was most interested in the heavily spiked egg nog, but the divinity, the fudge and the homemade jalapeno cheese sticks were way too tempting to resist. Christmas is not a time to be on a diet; one can suffer through the misery of dieting the rest of the year, but not on Christmas.

“What ya’ll watching?” Beth inquired.

“Groundhog Day,” Peyton, our fourteen year-old daughter answered.

“Oh, that’s a cute movie.”

“Yeah, it is. But why Groundhog Day? Why not pick a better holiday to replay over and over? Why not Christmas, the best holiday of the year?” I chimed in. No one needed to answer. I mean really is there ever a better holiday than Christmas? No holiday holds a candle to all the lights, smells, surprises and emotions found under the tree. If you don’t like Christmas, I don’t want to know you.

No sooner had Peyton switched the channel over to the Kardashian marathon than my idea of a never-ending Christmas started to percolate in the intoxicating egg nog I was working on. I thought my idea was a good one. But like too many of my creations, this one too didn’t seem serious. My problem though, throughout my whole life, was that most of my creative bursts of energy ran out of steam way too early. Blame it on my astrological sign (Aries) or genetic attention deficit. But it had always been challenging for me to carry through and finish my creative beginnings. (Unfinished)

NOTES

What’s the conflict going to be? Maybe someone who doesn’t like Christmas?
Conclusion…remember to try and repeat the opening message of your story in the conclusion to bring the whole story together.

To be changed but must keep the theme that the story began with.

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