Category Archives: writing

Dawn of the Dead

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Ran across an interesting question on Twitter a few weeks ago: Writers, have you ever faced harsh criticism?

I must admit that question strikes a chord with me. Oh, not necessarily from something that happened here at Middle Zone Musings or anything. I’m happy to report that, since I started writing here at the Zone, there have only been a couple of instances when someone decided to, er, let me have it.

What was it about, you ask? Well, suffice it to say, said criticism had absolutely nothing to do with my ability to write, if you get my meanin’. Thankfully, things have pretty much always been fairly even-keeled around here. I suppose, in a way, it’s a welcome vindication of my goal that the Zone appeal to as many folks as possible.

Anyhoo, getting’ back to the subject…

Lookin’ a mite further back, though, I remember all those English teachers I faced from grade school on up through college. But I suppose we all wrestled with them as we grew up. Par for the course, right? So, on the whole, I’d say I’ve done OK.

Ah, but what about undeserved criticism vis a vis your writing ability? Now that’s a critter of a different hue, wouldn’t ya say? I remember this one, um, professor (imagine the word forced out through clenched teeth – but don’t worry; I’m over it now) from my first year in college…

Firm Foundation

Now ya gotta understand, y’all; I started reading at an early age and loved it. Back when I was a kid (that’s human, not goat), while everyone else was outside playing in the sandbox, you’d more than likely find me over in a quiet corner somewhere reading a book.

Even back then science fiction was my favorite (and still is, for that matter). Not that one type of reading matter is better than any other type, mind you, but I’ve always believed reading sci-fi stories is what helped jump start a broad technical vocabulary, not to mention help point me towards my current career in engineering. (At least that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.)

Well, once I grasped the fundamentals of writing (somewhere along about High School) I always got good grades on writing assignments. Plus, along the way I discovered writing was sorta fun – especially when I was allowed to let loose my imagination, y’know?

Suffice it to say, then, that I was fairly confident in my ability to string words together in a way that not only managed to say what I wanted to them to say, but I could say it in a way that would satisfy pretty much anyone. Until, as I said, I started college.

Rude Awakening

My first-year encounter with college was quite an adjustment, I’ll tell ya! Not only was it my first time living away from home, but it wasn’t long before I ran smack dab into a particularly hard truth about college life. The fact is, the word school took on a whole new meaning for me. See, up until then, going to school wasn’t really a choice, y’know? I mean, I had to go whether I liked it or not.

I quickly discovered, however, that now I was surrounded by folks who had actually chosen to be there. (Imagine that!) And I’m not exaggerating in the least when I say that put a whole ‘nuther hump on the camel, if you get my meanin’.

Even the teachers (oops, professors) were different. Although most of them genuinely seemed to like what they were doing, there were a few who sorta, er, stood out from the herd – both good and bad. And I’ll tell ya; nobody was worse than… Dr. Dead! (flash of lighting, crack of thunder, sound of terrified scream)

Dr. Dead

Now, at first blush you may be thinkin’ to yerself, Hey, that’s a pretty harsh moniker to give a college professor! Where’s the respect, Bubba? But hear me out, my friends; hear me out as I relate to you what happened on that fateful first day in English 101.

Here’s the scene: It’s your typical college classroom, complete with room-spanning blackboard at the front (yes, we used blackboards back then – and please, no snide “age” comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much) along with a wooden teacher’s desk that had obviously seen better days. About 25 of us were seated in metal and/or wooden student’s desks, back packs at our feet, freshly-scrubbed faces eager and ready for our first exposure to, y’know, what we laughingly refer to as “higher eddicashun” (that’s “education” for you upper-crust types).

Anyway, once we all got situated, an old man tottered in and headed for the desk at the front. (Yes, he really “tottered”. Seriously.) Upon reaching the desk, he turned around, sat down on the edge and crossed his legs like a talk show host. Then he crossed his arms as well, all the while giving us the once-over with his steely gaze. (For you “body language” gurus: what would that posture tell you?) Then:

“Good morning; my name is (name redacted to protect, er, me),” he began in his thin, reedy voice. “This is English 101, and for those of you who may have heard this is a tough class… well, they are quite correct.”

He continued in this vein for a few minutes, and I could see the other students’ eyes reflecting the same sense of impending doom I was beginning to feel. After a while, he began to talk about his “style”, and that’s when it started getting a mite, um, surreal.

“Now some of you may consider yourselves to be good, or even excellent at your use of the English language.” He paused to survey the room, making sure he had all our attention, then – well, that’s when he lowered the ol’ boom on us. “I want you to understand this fact: I will be the sole judge of your ability to write. It doesn’t matter what you think; my opinion is the only one that matters here. I am sixty-four and one-half years old, and only six months from retirement, so we’re going to do this class my way, and my way only!”

There was more, but I’m tellin’ ya, at this point it was so quiet a dropped pin woulda sounded like a 30-car pileup; I don’t think any of us even dared breathe for a few moments. I mean, what the heck was this? It was after that first class when I overheard a couple of other students use the name, “Dr. Dead”. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for that little gem to stick.

He Lived Up To His Name

I’ll tell ya, when he told us his way was the only way, he wasn’t kidding! Our first paper was due the very next class (and for those of you who don’t know, English 101 is pretty much ALL writing “papers”) and I knew it was going to either make or break me as far as this class was concerned. Although I admit my confidence was a mite shaken, at that point I wasn’t too worried. I mean, I had already proven I was pretty good at it, right? (He said, nervously.)

Well, I turned my paper in on time (of course). When we met next, I was running a bit late, so by the time I arrived Dr. Dead was already handing out our graded papers. As he delivered each one I tried to see if there were any clues as to the results.

Yup, sure enough. It was kinda like watchin’ wallpaper fade (albeit a mite faster). Each face reflected the same sequence of reactions. First, there was a widening of the eyes in surprise (when they saw their grade), followed by a silent snort of disgust (or its equivalent) as they immediately compared it with their neighbor’s grades. Finally, there was a rolling of the eyes as they realized EVERYONE was as shocked as they were.

I was therefore not too surprised that my own grade was, er, less than stellar; I mean, I’d already seen the movie, if you follow me. Even so, I couldn’t help myself; as soon as I got mine, well, my eyes widened, I snorted – ah, you get the picture, right?

But it wasn’t that the grade starin’ me in the face was, to put it mildly, less that what I expected. I mean, that was bad enough. No, it was the fact that, right up there at the top of the page, there was a big, fat “F”! And in red ink, no less!

What the heck was this!?! I mean, I put my heart and soul into that paper – just so he would know I was better than the average writer, y’know? And this was my reward!? To say I was shocked is something of an understatement.

From Bad To Worse

Well, the class continued along those lines for pretty much the rest of the semester. And on every single paper, no matter what I did, I got almost the same results. (Although I did manage to pull out a “D” on one. I partied for a week.)

To say I was frustrated would be a major insult to the word “frustrated”, I’m tellin’ ya! I had conferences with the man several times, and each time he merely repeated his initial statement: his way or nothing. As the semester ground on, I even met with the Dean of the English Department to complain. Unsurprisingly, I got no help there.

I finally ended up dropping the class in hopes I could retake it with a different professor the next semester. And, although I passed it that second time, suffice it to say that by then my love of writing had pretty much been snuffed out like Smokey the Bear stomping out an unattended campfire in the woods.

I’ll tell ya, folks; I knew when I was beaten. As I look back on it now, I’m sure this little episode went a long way towards squelching my secret boyhood dream to eventually become a successful, rich and famous (not to mention loved by fans everywhere) sci-fi author. Sad, but true. (Not to lessen my own personal responsibility for makin’ the choice, mind you.) But to tell you the truth, I never wrote anything for fun again – until I took up blogging back in 2006.

A Hard Lesson

Well I’m not ashamed to admit I learned a hard lesson from this, y’all, and sad to say, it don’t necessarily paint ol’ yours truly in the best of lights, if you get my meanin’. My only defense, as pitiful as it may be, is that I was younger (and presumably more, well, let’s tell it like it was: stupid) than I am now.

The hard fact is, I’m the one who allowed that professor to dictate how I felt about my own writing – and about myself. In fact, I’ll go ever farther and say this: whether or not I was a good writer was irrelevant to the fact that I let someone else tell me how to feel about myself!

Friends, listen to an old cowboy and learn somethin’, won’t ya? Don’t do that!

As I’ve discovered the hard way, how we feel about ourselves is the one thing we’re pretty much in control of in this life, y’know? This incident, and others like it, taught me how easy it is to take someone else’s self-esteem down a notch or two.

And it doesn’t stop there. No, this sort of thing can have long-term consequences as well. It took quite a few years before I was again willing to risk having someone else read anything I wrote – in my case, 34 years. Yeesh, what a waste! But not to worry, I think I’ve finally gotten over it.

In fact, nowadays it’s gotten to where it’s kinda hard to shut me up. But then, that’s a dog of a different spot, wouldn’t ya say?

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Photo credit: F, by duncan

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Creative License

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Painting of the Pont du Alexandre III bridge over the Seine River in ParisBeen to a museum lately? One thing they’ll generally have a lot of: some of the world’s greatest paintings. As a matter of fact, I’ve even been privileged enough to have laid my very own two eyes on one or two of ‘em, too. Van Gogh… Monet… DaVinci… Yep; I’ve been blessed, I’ll tell ya.

Having said that, though, I’d like you to take a good look, folks, at what I consider to be my very favorite painting of all time. At the moment it’s currently hanging on a wall in my house. But don’t rush for your “World’s Greatest Paintings” Almanac; you won’t find it listed.

Like I said, it’s my favorite. Not because it was painted by a world-renowned artist. Naw, the fellow who painted this (a French painter named Maurice Legendre) isn’t all that well-known, in spite of having been in the art world for a considerable number of years. And no, not because it’s worth a fortune, either. Although … if it was, I could skip step #2 of my plan to make a million dollars! (Step #1: Find a job that pays a million dollars an hour. Step #2: Work 1 hour.*)

No, this painting is my favorite because it’s a souvenir – and a reminder – of the trip my family and I made to Europe back in 1970. (And… just because I really like it.)

See, my dad, who was an engineer at the time for a large global chemical company, managed to wrangle a 9-month-long field assignment to Europe, so naturally he did what anybody else would do if they could – turned it into an extended family vacation for the rest of us! (And lemme just add here, “Way to go, Dad!”)

At least, it was a vacation for us – he had to work. (And yes, my sister and I did have to attend school for the remainder of the semester. But hey, it was, y’know, in Europe!)

Not Quite Reality

Funny thing about paintings, though. No matter how realistic they look, they just aren’t, well, real, y’know? I mean, go to any museum in the world and check out all those portraits. I defy you to find one single pimple on any face. I mean, c’mon; what’re the odds?

No, paintings don’t necessarily reflect reality (although some artists certainly give it a good run for the money). Heck, these days even photographs can be manipulated such that quite often my first thought when I see a particularly unusual one is, “I wonder if it’s been photoshopped?” Hey, am I right?

Anyhoo, this painting was created right there on the bank of the Seine river, just beyond those trees on the right. How do I know that? Well, I remember watching as the artist finished it with swift, sure strokes. (At least, that’s how I remember it, anyway.) The scene is the famous Pont Alexandre III (which is French for “The Bridge Named for Alexander the 3rd”) as depicted on a rather gray, yet surprisingly luminous, rainy afternoon. (Or is it morning? Hrm…)

But here’s the thing. If you were to actually stand at the painting’s point of view, it wouldn’t quite look like what you see here. As a matter of fact, there’s quite a lot in this painting that, as the sayin’ goes, “ain’t quite right”.

What’s wrong with it, you say? Well, for instance…

The day this was painted – it wasn’t actually raining at all! Nope; it was a beautiful bright and sunny summer day. Oh, and if you check photos of the real Alexander III bridge (you can find plenty on the Internet), the Seine River actually appears to be quite a bit wider than depicted here (although I suppose that could’ve been an artifact of perspective). And, according to my memory (which admittedly ain’t what it used to be – *sigh*), you won’t see the Eiffel Tower from that spot, either.

Oh yeah, and one more thing: see that sailing ship? In order to get a ship that size into that amazingly picturesque position, they would have had to remove every mast on it. Not that you couldn’t; but it would be a huge pain in the, er, nether regions! Even so, I’m not sure you could fit the doggone thing under the bridges – most of ‘em are pretty low to the water. (See that tugboat lookin’ thing next to it? That’s how low boats have to be to fit under most of the bridges across the Seine.)

A License To…

So what’s my point, you ask? Well other than the one on the top of my head, my point is this: so what?

Lemme put it this way. You know what a license is, don’cha? It’s when you get official, recognized permission to do something – as in a hunting license, a driver’s license, or a “license to kill” a la James Bond. But here we’re talkin’ about something a mite “less” tangible: a creative license.

See, painters, writers, inventors – pretty much everyone who’s ever done anything creative in their lives (and yes, that includes when you were a kid and you tried to explain to mom that it was actually your little brother – or was it the dog? – who broke that lamp and not you) all have this wonderful opportunity before them to not only express something inside of them, but to express it in their own uniquely special way. After all, the artist who painted this scene had the real thing there right in front of him. But, by adding his own interpretation to the canvas, made it something unique. It’s not a photograph, after all (and yes, you can be amazingly creative with those, too), it’s an expression.

Speaking on behalf of writers everywhere, I think it’s safe to say we all do something similar. (And no, I’m not admitting to, um, embellishing all the stories you read here at the Zone. C’mon; even if it were true, do you think I’d ever admit it?) [Note from the Proprietor: Just kidding, folks! They’re all true – to the best of my memory, anyway. Honest.]

What I’m sayin’ is, it’s not what we say that makes it unique, interesting, boring, horrifying, humorous or (fill in appropriate descriptive here) – although that certainly plays an important part. Nope; the thing that makes folks keep comin’ back for more is the way we say what we want to say.

It’s like having your own license – a creative license!

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* OK, I freely admit it: I borrowed my “how to make a million dollars” plan from one of Steve Martin’s comedy routines. But that doesn’t make it any less brilliant. I’m just sayin’.

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1,000 And Counting: A Gift From Blogging

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[(sound of radio hum and persistent static) We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this Special Announcement. Please do not attempt to adjust your screens. The problem is not with your monitor.]

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A Big Announcement

First – the BIG Announcement: Today’s entry marks post number – wait for it – 1,000 here at the Middle Zone! (sound of vast crowd cheering enthusiastically; roll out the proverbial red carpet; cue the band; cue the fireworks)

I mean, who woulda thunk it? Not me, that’s for sure!

To be honest (something we always strive for here at the Zone), I really had no lifelong aspirations to become a world-famous millionaire blogger/writer, I’ll tell ya. That’s right: zip, zero, nada. In fact, ‘way back in June of ’06 (practically pre-historic days in Internet time) when I posted my first profound thoughts measly chicken-scratchings, the ONLY reason I did it at all was simply to “try this weird, crazy bloggin’ thang out”, if you get my meanin’.

(Er, as to that “world-famous millionaire blogger/writer” bit… I think I can say with confidence that over the last 4.5193 years of blood, sweat and tears, working my fingers to the bone and the little ol’ gray cells into exhaustion, I’ve managed to achieve at least two out of those three descriptives. It should be obvious to all exactly which two have been accomplished.)

So how does one celebrate 1,000 posts, anyway? Why, by doing something special of course!

Now for me, “something special” usually involves, well, pie – preferably with a big ol’ scoop of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream right up there on top. However, today I decided to do something completely different (miraculously involving no calories whatsoever) and submit an entry for Joanna Patterson’s group writing project instead. All month she’s been running her “The Gift of Blogging Confidence” group writing project over at Confident Writing. Since I haven’t participated in a GWP in quite some time, I thought this would be a great opportunity to jump back into the fray.

[We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming. (sound of static fades away) And what the hey; why don’cha go have yourself a Slurpee?]

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Look, Ma; I’m A Writer!

Well, I’ll tell ya; blogging over the years has certainly been the source of some surprising turns of events. I’ve had the opportunity to meet some really fantastic folks, read great thoughts on practically anything you care to name (and let’s face it; “one or two” not-so-great thoughts, too), and gained exposure to some truly amazing, well, stuff. I mean, there’s practically no end to the things there are to learn “out there” these days, is there? You know.

As for yours truly, well, blogging has given me a remarkable measure of confidence I never knew I had. After all, when it comes to recording your own thoughts and sending them out to the world… well, it takes a certain level of chutzpah, don’cha think? Why, the very idea that someone else out there would conceivably care what I think – about anything – I mean, sheesh, who knew?

The thing is, writing is something I always thought I’d be good at, even back when I was a kid. It’s just that, up until a few years ago, I simply didn’t actually, y’know, do it on a regular basis. Howsomever, once I began writing more-or-less regular-like here at the Zone, well, the rest is, as they say, history.

But if there’s one gift blogging has given me – and believe me when I say it’s one I never saw comin’ – well, that would have to be (sound of drumroll and rimshot) poetry.

Look Ma; Now I’m a Poet, Too!

Yep, now I’m not only a writer – I’m a poet, too; a statement to which my mind can’t help but respond: Uh, now how heck did that happen? Truth be told, I can barely even relate to most poetry out there. So why on earth would I start writing any of my own, much less publishing it “out there” for anyone to see and (sound of terrified scream) critique?

Not to mention, as this photo illustrates, the sheer, unmitigated agony of the bane of existence of poets everywhere: “the search for the perfect word”. (With apologies to Joyce Kilmer. – Ed.)

So how did it happen, you ask? Well, in a word – confidence! Yep, it’s that confidence I picked up from practicing what I normally do. And after doing it long enough, I finally began to think outside the box and try something different.

Oh, don’t get me wrong – I very carefully make no claims to bein’ a good poet. But I honestly think I’m learnin’ a thing or two every time one falls out onto the screen. Hey, who knows; maybe my feet really do show it? *

Poetic Moments at the Middle Zone

So for your reading pleasure torture edification whatever, here are the links to all my (insert appropriate descriptive here) poetry posts that appear here in the Middle Zone. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know how you liked them. I’d truly like to know!

First of all, here are five very short poems (written in *ahem* free verse – which, let’s be honest, is just a fancified way of sayin’ “Hey, there ain’t no rhyme or reason to this stuff!”) for a writing project sponsored by the inimitable Liz Strauss wherin each entry is limited to exactly 25 words:

Then, since it’s poetry after all, I decided to try my hand at, y’know, actually rhyming something. (Yes, I know all poetry doesn’t have to rhyme. Still have trouble thinking that way. Just sayin’.) Interestingly enough, it seems my own photos turned out to be my greatest resource when it comes to the ol’ Muse’s poetic ramblings. Thus, my photo of a pair of spiky sycamore tree seed pods inspired this poem about my childhood days:

Oddly enough, my two latest poems were inspired by photos of the same subject: the morning dew:

So what’s next, you ask? The Great American Novel? A Nobel-Prize-worthy essay? The next volume of The Toilet Time Reader? Heck, who knows? My advice is (for you and for me), let’s make sure to remain open to the possibilities. Hey, you never know what surprising little gift might next come down the pike!

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[* By the way, on the remote chance you have no idea what that sentence refers to, it’s a little rhyme I learned years ago (and therefore assume most folks have heard in one form or another), to wit: “Hey, he’s a poet! He didn’t know it; but his feet show it – they’re Longfellows!” (sound of rimshot)]

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Poetry Moment – Fallen Starlight

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Fallen Starlight

Beads of fallen starlight

From waning evening’s trace;

Delicately lay upon

A garden’s upturned face.

.

Fleeting are their kisses,

Like the sweetest of champagne;

Such tiny gems: night’s tears of joy –

What Breath of Life contain!

.

Unite in praise of Heaven for

Their delicate delight,

Whose substance, though yet fleeting –

Whose mem’ry lodges bright –

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As cheerful Day begins his rise

They vanish with no sign;

Still, lingering substance permeates

The air with scent sublime!

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Photo: Sprinkled Like Stars, by Yours Truly

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And Speaking of Imponderable Questions…

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Last Monday, I posted a list of questions that seem to have no reasonable answers. (‘Course, if you’d be willin’ to settle for unreasonable answers – hey, we got plenty of those.)

Out of Place

The other day I drove by one of our neighborhood U.S. Post Offices and, well, if you’ll glance at the photo you’ll see what I saw. Yeah, I know; there’s nothing particularly special about the place with its somewhat uninspired architecture, concrete parking lot, and boring landscaping. But… something seemed to jump out at me as, I don’t know, a bit out of place.

A little later I drove by the same spot and took the time to really check out the scene again. Finally I spotted what was bothering me. That tiny white spot the big, black arrow is pointing at is a mailbox. Wait – what? Yep, there it is; embedded in that short, square brick pillar, located right outside the post office door.

Now I ask you: Why would a post office need an external mailbox? Seems like a somewhat superfluous addition, don’cha think? I suddenly had an urge to mail a letter to the branch’s Postmaster, just to see if a mail carrier had to bring it outside and put it in the box. If I can just find a stamp. And paper. And, uh, a pen. (Naah, just kidding. I still remember how to actually hand write a letter (although my penmanship was never all that great), and I even know where Mrs. MZM keeps the stamps.)

(Sound of Dull Thud)

Anyhoo, as I wrote this post, it suddenly hit me! (sound of dull thud) In fact, it’s so obvious, I’m almost embarrassed to confess this. It seems like, after all these years of tellin’ y’all there are lessons to be learned from life pretty much everywhere – well, I sorta forgot that little detail for a bit. Call it a decade moment of insanity.

So there I was, taking note of this odd little architectural detail, wondering just what the heck it was all about. So what did I do? Took this photo, hopped into my car, drove home and wrote this post, right?

Now I ask ya: What’s wrong with this picture. (No, not that picture up there; this whole cotton-pickin’ episode.) Yep; you guessed it in one! Why didn’t I just go up there and take a look at the thing and find out why it’s there? As you can see from the photo, there’s obviously a plaque of some kind on top of that structure. Probably explaining exactly why it’s there and what it means.

All it would have taken was just a tiny little bit of time – to actually, y’know, look.

So gettin’ back to imponderable questions… Now the imponderable question is this: How come I didn’t take the time to go find out for myself? I mean, I was already there!

I hate to admit it, but for that one I have no answer.

Assignment for the Day Life

Awright y’all; now’s the time to learn from my mistake.

Your assignment, should you decide to accept it, is to take 5 minutes sometime today, find a good comfy spot, and take the time to observe the world around you. And don’t just be at rest; I want you to really look. Pretend you’re a recording device capturing everything around you in full fidelity. Listen to the sounds, smell the smells. Experience those minutes as fully as you can.

Now, write down as much as you can remember about what you noticed. Be as detailed as you can. If you really want to get something out of this exercise, do this every day for a week, writing down everything you can possibly remember.

And most of all – should you, like I did, see something that raises a question in your mind, don’t just wonder about it (like I did) – take an extra minute and go over there and find out the answer!

I’m tellin’ ya; you may be surprised at what you’ll discover!

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Poetry Moment: Morning Dew

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Morning Dew

Night fog lifted

Gentle morning dew

Dawn-kissed jewels

Sleeps lightly on summer grass

Refreshed and renewed

Awaiting a child’s playful tread

As I stepped out the other morning to head for work, I happened to take a few moments to admire the fresh coating of morning’s dew on our lawn. The way the myriad droplets were just beginning to catch the first rays of the rising sun was just… inspirational!

Few things inspire me to write poetry; I freely admit to being not too much of a poet. I dunno; bein’ an engineer and all, maybe I’m just too literal to be very good at it. But still… when I see something like this, it just makes me want to try. Hope you liked it.

[Note from the proprietor on the poem: Liked it? Hated it? Couldn’t care less? Hey, I’m not too old a dog to learn a few new tricks. If you have any critiques, comments, or suggestions – bring ‘em on!]

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The Wildebeest News Report

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In case you’re wondering just what the heck happened to yours truly…

Well the good news is, I didn’t fall into a deep hole. And no, I didn’t become a fugitive from justice, change my name, and move to Gondwanaland, either. And, uh, I wasn’t retrieved by the Mother Ship (although you never know; that may yet happen).

(By the way, if you have NOT been wondering why I’ve not written anything new in a while – well, I’d rather you didn’t tell me and spoil the illusion. Just sayin’.)

Anyhoo – as you may or may not remember, I work in the engineering business, and unfortunately that particular segment of the economy (along with most of the others – with the possible exception of government employment) has been hit pretty hard. Naturally I’ve been searching for work for some time now.

The thing is, over the last few months I must admit to a certain lack of, well, inspiration when it comes to writing. Perhaps you know what I mean, right? As for me, my Muse decided to pack a bag, take a vacation,  and went trippingly out the door with nary a backward glace. I mean, not even a postcard! Sheesh!

Yup; that’s sorta what happened to me. Thus, not a single written word for about two months now.

However, the good news is I am once again fully employed! YEEHAW! (sound of crowd cheering and throwing their hats into the air) That’s right, y’all; the ranks of the unemployed have been reduced – to 8,499,999. (That is, if you accept that 8-1/2 million-jobs-lost number the U.S. Labor Department throws around. Sadly, the evidence suggests that number is ‘waaay bigger).

The Shape of Things to Come

The thing is, my new job is going to keep me a lot busier (as opposed to… not working), so needless to say, posting frequency is of necessity going to be greatly reduced. But then again, since I’ve only posted once since Easter, I suppose any posting would technically be an improvement.

Anyway, some things will of necessity have to change here in the Middle Zone.

First of all, the theme here at the Zone  (“lessons learned… from life”) will continue. It’s been a winner for a long time, and I see no reason to change directions. Life will always have a great deal to teach, and I hope to continue capturing and sharing at least a few of those lessons for as long as I’m still breathin’.

Having said that, though, you can probably expect any future posts to be on a somewhat irregular schedule, and likely no more than a few times a month. At least, until I get back into the swing of things. You know how it is, right? What with work (yay!), commute, sleep, church, and quality time with Mrs. MZM, well, there ain’t that much time left to write. Oh, I know; lots of folks manage to juggle all those balls and more without missing a beat. But I’d rather take my time and make sure the priorities get taken care of before taking on too much. So I’d rather work my way back up to something more regular over time. So let’s just see how it goes.

I’ve sadly decided to suspend our monthly What I Learned From… projects for a while. Hey, we’ve had a great run over the last three years, with nearly 1,000 entries from hundreds of folks. But I simply don’t have the time to keep it up right now. Maybe later we can start ‘em up again, but for now, feel free to enjoy the archives. Believe me, there’s some real gems in there.

Also, my social media time (which was, ahem, never much to speak of) has become virtually non-existent, and I don’t see that improving much in the near term. Oh, I’ll still be around, commenting on the occasional post or two. And I still use my RSS reader to keep track of my favorite bloggers. So just know I haven’t completely abandoned y’all; I’ll still probably be lurking there in the background. Really.

Finally, something else I’ve recently gotten into is photography. Thanks to an amazing turn of events, I recently acquired a “really nice” camera and have caught the photography bug. Alas and forsooth, once again there are only so many hours in the day, so while I’m happily learning something new – my writing will of necessity suffer because of it. Hopefully I’ll be able to combine both writing and photography in the future.

If you like, you’re welcome to observe my journey from budding neophyte to professional photographer (yeah, right!) by following my Flickr stream here . And yes, I do manage to peruse some of y’all’s Flickr streams as well. Keep up the good work!

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Hat Tip!In the meantime, by all means, please continue your subscription to Middle Zone Musings via RSS or by email. I truly appreciate your continued patronage, and hopefully things will pick up soon. In fact, even as you read this I’ve got another post in the making. So stay tuned!

Oh, and a big ol’ tip o’ the hat to ya!

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By the way, you may or may not be wondering why on Earth I called this post the “wildebeest news” report. Well, it’s a sorta play on the way a certain word sounds in English. See, sometimes a wildebeest is called a “gnu”. And “gnu” rhymes with “new”, as in “latest”. Thus, “The Wildebeest News Report” translates into “The Latest News Report” Get it? Huh? Huh? (sound of audience groaning)

I’m tellin’ ya; sometimes I crack myself up.

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