Room Shuffle Steps on Feet

I do indeed recall this event and this time of my life and will tell you that I was a sheeple doing as I was told. The Professor of the class in question had become upset of his being shuffled from room to room and asked the class to address this problem with the powers that were.

No recollection resides in my head as to whether or not this was ever mailed or emailed. I hope I did not so embarrass myself by mailing this rubbish.   Then you could ask why I’m placing it on the internet so you can all laugh at me? Well, remembering what a fool I was helps me to not be so foolish in the future.

The ‘Jury Selections’ refer to an acting event where a scene or monolog is prepared to be critiqued. This is done to give the actor a clear understanding of how they can improve.

9^th December 2005

Dear Bob,

Where I am sure you are aware of the events of this Sixth of December as they pertain to the acting 120 C course. As you know, the class was sent to more than four locations before finding one that was both unoccupied and suitable, in the loosest definition of the word, for our activities. We are your most advanced students and there was no place for us. 

That day we had planned to perform and get feedback on our jury selections for the following Thursday.  The hour we lost was extremely valuable class time. Lousing it meant that many of our selection groups did not have a chance to perform that day and those that did had to get what they could out of an instructor rushing to give all of his students equal attention.

To compound matters many of our 120 C students are involved with the High School Theatre Festival and could have likely used the hour we spent moving from class to class getting ready for the meeting that Friday. My partner for the next assignment could have used that time in getting a copy of our selection for me. I have lost two days of time to work on that selection because of this incident.

It may not be apparent that the acting C class is the most likely body of students to continue on in theatre and represent the college but we are. We look to the department for the values that will see us through life as professionals. So how are we to interpret this oversight? It is not as if it is unique, 120 C as been booted from space to space before, shared spaces with other classes, and even conducted class outdoors.

There must be some reason for this problem but problems are for those how do not wish to solve them. Perhaps fewer classes could be scheduled at the same time. Better communications within the department could yield a procedure for dealing with this occurrence. Yet another possibility would be to assign courses in commonly needed spaces to other rooms and allow them to reserve performance spaces as needed. No matter what the solution I’m very sure that a well educated group of people like your staff should have no difficulty in rectifying this situation.

Always at you service

Richard L. Neal        

I Lie Awake - Charlie Brown

What he Says about Others - Leo Aikman

Double Digit Tons

I recall this incident, and that I was bruised up the next day.

I haven’t any idea why I wrote this other than to keep it in memory. At the time I felt very alone and to be honest I still do, but I was worn to the ground then and looking for a reason to keep on going.

Even now it’s hard to think of one.

25^th August, 2008

Last week I had one of those subtle reminders of why I go to (the state college), pay thousands of dollars, give up most to all of my free time, sleep time, and whatever else. This one took the form of steel and rubber owned by a company that’s official stance is “we kill so many people every year and most by big-rigs, try not to be one of them.” 

         

I was at work and had just cut the front security seal on a set of 28-foot trailers when the set pulled forward striking me on the shoulder and knocking me to the side.

If I had been a few inches to the left I would have been crushed by double digit tons of freight and equipment. If I had lost my footing I would have gained a face full of concrete or gotten caught by the back tires and been crippled or killed. 

         

“Why is this important to me?” is not the question.

His Plan - Carlton Person

How Soon it Will be Too Late - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Units of Prayer - E. M. Bounds

Buy Back His Past - Oscar Wilde

New Thing in this World - Harry Truman

Remember the Good Samaritan - Margaret Thatcher

Ghost in the World

12th November of 2010

 Dear Cassi,

 

I had a conversation this week with an old neighbor of mine who moved out of the neighbor hood then moved back after finding that her new home was too dangerous. She wanted to show me her new home which was almost the same layout as my home. She had the place remodeled more or less with an emphasis on new lighting. I can't say much for it, but she was happy and that was all that mattered.

She put six sunken lights in the living room and I think two or three in the hallway. I can't say that this is a good way to make a light as it keeps the ceiling and walls darker. A dark home may look good in a horror movie, but you got to live in this place. I noted that the body work on the ceiling fans was a dark chocolate with the blades the same color. They were darker then the wood of the floors and furniture. Over the last fifty years woods have changed a lot. I think they were at their darkest in the 80s. This used to have something to do with the availability of wood.

Now days we can get wood in any color and most of it is fake wood. The bedroom fans had been made to look organic like fire hardened roots of tribal spears. Some people say it adds to the spice of life. I think they're just trying too hard.

Well, in the back yard she had six avocado trees. None had fruit and all six had to be cut back hard just to keep them alive. They had grown so large their branches tangled together making them into a big canopy. The trees had been sickly as if they had struggled to live under their own weight. My neighbor told me that she had six fig trees taken out because they had been too sick to give fruit.

You see a lot of that in California and for that matter much of the world. The bad economy has left much of the world withered and sickly. We over grew our means, and when the economy shut down it all fell into disuse. One day the dust will cover us like a gray blanket, and the rain will carry us away leaving the world barren.

After the tour my neighbor spoke to me for more than an hour. She's a grandmother now and a withered old woman with hard vertical lines on her face. On the left side of her mouth a tar stain from smoking stood out as her defining feature. She lived on my street before I was born and so we spent some time talking about my mother who died twenty-one years ago next month. No one on the block knew haw crazy my mother was. She had a hard life and died young with all the people around her taking no notice.

How many of us are ghosts in this world? My mother and I could have stepped off the face of the world and none would have taken notice for weeks. Like extras in a movie we walk along the streets as part of the back drop of the world. We all have a story, we all have an identity, but so many of us hardly exist. You got to wonder what the hell is wrong with people that they have tunnel vision, and they can't see the people around them. It seems like we all just turn away and forget.

In the end, I told my neighbor that she should get to her dinner because it was getting cold and took my leave. It's funny how she spent so much time talking to me, but maybe I'm a good listener. Then we might have had a few of the same problems. I can't imagine how this woman, with her children and grandchildren, would have a shortage of people to talk to. The world works out that way sometimes. I remember being in crowds of people and still always alone. Maybe those people were like faces in a painting: they look human but just aren't real, or they could be like veins of gold waiting to be opened with pick and drill. Either way, it's time for me to get ready for work.

Stay safe,

Richard Leland Neal

Commitment of a Kamikaze - Lou Holtz

Let it be

18^th May 2012

Dear Cassi,

The other day I came across and old black and white photograph of two people and a baby. They were sitting alongside a house in the middle of what looks like a farm. The couple was alien to me on first glance and I do not believe that I have seen this image before but after some thinking I believe the man to be Grandpa Leland and the woman Grandma Ann.

       

This would make the boy Alan the man who donated half my genetic material. I’m told that mother and Leland got on well, but that Leland had some bad times with his wife Ann. My paternal grandparents spent the last decade of Leland’s life having nothing to do with one another.

       

Back then people would shy about divorce. Ann had told me that in her day once you left home you never came back. Further, that her own father had seen the trouble her married life had come to and offered to let her come back home. This was a grand gesture that never came to pass.

       

I have never heard Leland’s side of this as he died when I was rather young. He was given some respect in death, more than Alan showed my mother, in that he was forgotten and rarely spoken of. Ann did speak ill of him but never when into specifics. She said he was a hard man to live with, but what she meant by it escapes me.

       

Still, let’s give credit where credit is due, Ann was a hard person to live with as far as I can tell. She told me that once they made a recording of her screaming at her children and played it back for her benefit. It was a badge of shame she still carries. There was enough love left for that old man for me to bear his name within my own.

When we speak ill of the dead we often speak ill of ourselves. This is not a rule but a bit to ponder over. The living can always try to make amends, but the dead are no so capable. The anger we hold for them is a cancer within yourself.

Leave the dead in the ground, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Choices - Colin Powell

Computer Reading to Me

24^th of November 2010

Dear Cassi,

Let me get it out of the way that I'm still not sure how I should send the full novel to you more, because I think I need to give it two more edits rather than one than that I'm having mail issues. It feels like I'm never going to be done with this thing. I think this is the tenth full edit, but it all meshes together now. Endless hours of listening to a computer read it to me. I wonder if the two different computer voices alter my ability to hear the right words.

Each of my computers has its own reader voice. The laptop is a girl and the main computer is a boy and the two do sound different. The old laptop has a male voice named Sam but the computer can't handle text documents over so many pages, and it really gets its wires tied over the reader and word processor running at once.

One frustration among many in a life full of frustration. Well, what can we do the hours pass to quickly as the task takes forever, and I feel the work as a heavy load. The days pass on and I still have more work to do. Well then, enough of my lament.

I don't know if I have spoken to you about my friend, Alex, whose kidneys are inflamed. He came in Monday morning looking as if he would not make it through the day. I could hear him groan as is stomach worked at the fluids that his body could not pass. It was a pain to see him like that, and once again he admitted to not taking my advice. Feeling sorry for the man I gave him the sweet potato from my lunch and told him if he had it he would feel better. I had no other advice to give him having said it all already. What do you tell a man that will not listen?

Tuesday morning I saw him once again and he said that the sweet potato had helped him markedly. “It got me through the day.” He told me. You would think that if one right meal would change things he would have at least one right meal a day, but no he just keeps killing himself.

I don't claim to be a health expert, but what I tell him works. You have to wonder about a man that is willing to put himself through that without doing a few simple things.

Then, I asked him where he shopped, and he said that his sister did the shopping for him, and that she wouldn't by him soy milk because she was afraid of getting the wrong one. He had one carton of Costco soy milk and he was good for a week. I just don't get it. This man could be one day away from better health, and he just keeps doing the wrong thing.

I feel for the man because I've been there, and I don't want to be there again. It was agony when my kidneys overloaded. I couldn't exercise, it was hard to work, I just sat in bed for hours in misery. The worst part about it was that my body would never heal because of the nutrition deficiency. It was murderous and frustrating.

In the end I stumbled on the right things to keep my body going. It's helped some but I've still a long way to go. A man like me shouldn't go giving people health advice. I should go look after myself first. Then it’s a hard road with many hills to walk. It's a long and lonely walk. The kind that fills your boots with cold mud. That's my world.

Anyway, best get to it

Richard Leland Neal

Wise and Otherwise - Mark Twain

Not Being Beautiful - Golda Meir

Children as a Battle Ground

23^rd November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

One of the things I learned a good deal about in both Psychology and Sociology is the aftermath of divorce. I know it has played a large role in my life, and I must imagine it has come about in yours. 

   

Some people stay in bad marriages for the sake of their children, some folks split up because they just can stand one another. Still others come to understand that it truly is the right thing. I have to stress at this point that the experts recommend all couples go to therapy when the relationship is good. Generally, by the time couples come to see a therapist they have built so much resentment that the relationship is doomed.

   

Living in that broken home children will rarely thrive. Even if the couple can hide their fighting normally their children will pick up on the hostility. Petty folks tend to bleed their misery into the world around them even if they refuse to believe that they are miserable.

   

For those couples who do split up, and there are many, their children often become at battle ground. The arguments that once lived in the marriage are played out in the minds of impressionable children. Those children are asked to choose between parents. Then the children loving both father and mother can’t shake the feeling that they have betrayed both.  

I recall telling one of my Psychology classes that the thing to do is be reasonable adults, and your kids should come out fine. The sad truth is that most of the divorcees studied by science simply aren’t reasonable adults. How does that old song go? “Shattered lives broken dreams.”

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Intelligence is Quickness - Alfred North Whitehead

A Life Too Full

24^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

One of the many things we have in common is working long hours. As the New Year brings me back into full time employee and full time student this would be a time to say a few words.  

   

What was it that fellow said to you? “Two jobs breaks the soul.” I will never understand the mentality of people who think that because they have a slogan for something it must be true. I like to define truisms as those things that become obvious once pointed out. A slogan is a philosophy that one must take up by their own volition. You should tell this man that his soul must be a fragile thing.

   

I know folks with two jobs and I know folks with three jobs, but none of them need to apologize for living in a world where those things are needed. True, there are those of us that live in a dream world and will never see the world for what it is even when they get slapped in the face with all the pain and suffering.

   

It has always been helpful to me to see those sleep walkers for what they are and press into the nature of my soul the values that will bring me round right. Those of us who decide to live their lives in a dream may never wake, but for the wakeful we must give those dreamers little mind.

   

It’s funny how we were taught for the whole of our lives that it’s good to dream. I will grant you that working toward impossible goals will keep a soul from going stagnant, but living in a world of dreams takes a stagnant soul. For some folks life is easy, for us life is hard, but so long as we have the will to fight there is still hope.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Shake Hand With a Clenched First - Indira Gandhi

How do I Make an Alien?

This was a post in response to the blogs of the ill fated Leucrota Press and their commentary on the makings of Aliens. I have to figure that it would make good reading for any Sci Fi geek looking to make a new beast. 

15^th January 2011

NASA found a what you say? Last time it was warp bubbles and the time before that life on Mars.

   

Sorry to tell you, but I’ve been following this story and the science was a little fuzzy. First off the Arsenic they fed the bacteria had phosphorus in it so the bacteria could have just eaten that, second the extracted DNA was poorly cleaned so it could have been contaminated. This is a long way from proof of arsenic life.

Proof is a bad word when dealing with one study to begin with. My teachers always told me to say ‘this study suggests’ rather than it proves because proof can be unproven.

Moreover, if you’re coming up with a strange body for your aliens you also need to come up with a reason for the morphology. With my massive Red Stone warriors I came up with a clear evolution that molded them into their present state. Every now and again people keep saying ‘I thought they weren’t humans because they were so tall.’ 

They’re tribe is no different from you or I than a pigmy, but the diversity among the ranks of the human race is lost on many a modern American. There are lots of humanoids running around on earth for us to make into aliens and even more strange things in the sea to give intelligence. Still, let us set that aside for now.

Things evolve out of utility, and if you’re going to make a true alien the first question is “why did it evolve?” It needs hands to hold with and feet to walk with, eyes to see, and a brain to wonder. If something is going to be so different from humanity that it is truly bizarre then why did that life form become dominant?

The final note in this alien song is, “what does it have to do with the story?” Remember that people can’t see what you’re talking about so you need to show them with words. My Red Stone are giants and so I have to keep reminding the reader that they are dealing with a being bigger and stronger than normal humans. If I forgot to do that they would just be people who use different words and their uniqueness would be lost.

Different isn’t always good, so if you’re coming up with something to be different you’re thinking too hard. 

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder - Thomas Haynes Bayly

Who Lies - Bosnian Proverb

 

More than I can Accomplish - Michelangelo

New Life Code

I wrote this more than a year ago and it applies to my life just as well today as it did then. This is a post form my other blog so to some extent I’m robbing Peter to pay Paul but I feel this just makes good reading.

21^st January 2011

This is the Situation, Now Deal with it!

How many times in life have I heard an inspirational line of bull about bad situations? ‘Every development is an opportunity!’ ‘When life hands you a lemon make lemonade.’

If I may test that with a few situations I’ve been in: When I was ten my mother died of cancer. Lemonade any one? Nope, I don’t feel better.

When I was twenty-two I overloaded my kidneys. That looked more like orange soda to me.

When I was twenty-five my father gave the money for my college education to my sister so she could buy a home. I suppose you could look at the bright side but it will never equal the thirty grand my sister got. No, at the end of the day I just need to deal with that and move on.

So that’s my new life motto “This is the situation, now deal with it.”

Okay, the situation is that I just joined the 12.4% of Californians who are unemployed. I have a year of unemployment and some savings. My life has always been a mess; at least from the day my mother died twenty one years ago, so around finishing my degree and finding a new job I can always spend a few hours a day picking up the pieces. 

I’ve always wanted to reboot my life, reread every book I own, watch every movie again, get my health in order and get my head where it should be. That was a fancy, a delusion, and a fool’s errand, but if I find a job on Monday at least I’ll be able to say that I finally got to that pile of laundry. 

Marry Un-birthday

4^th December 2011

Dear Cassi,

So here it is, the anniversary of my birth, and I spend it as I would any other day my washing machine isn’t working. With the down beat of dirty clothes I recall the worst birthday I ever had.

       

I do believe this happened back in two thousand six. It would be the last time I requested a birthday celebration. I had called one of the Yorba Linda crowd and informed them of the occasion. He invited me down for a day of video games, and that is as far as the event went. Truly, half rump is the tone of all their workings in that neck of the woods.

       

I came home from work that day and slept shortly then rose and drove down to an apartment where a Local Area Network had been setup. We played some variant of War Craft where no bass was built. When it was over I went home showered and returned to work. That was all, I later learned that only two, myself included, of the six or seven of us knew the occasion.

       

At work that night the real festivities begun and sleep deprivation set in. I began to hallucinate, seeing movement where there was none, and looking every which way in the grip of some irrational paranoia. I remember that I couldn’t sit down as sitting would bring on sleep so I stood. My feet grew sore and swollen from having spent too long in boots over the passing weeks and the cold cut into me through my work clothes.

       

I had never before or since felt so strongly the elements than on that day, and I have never again made plans for a birthday celebration. They have never turned out well but that one was the worst.

Marry un-birthday to you, Cassi.

Richard Leland Neal

Getting Old - Bob Hope

Return to the Night Shift

1^st December 2011

Dear Cassi,

Returning to the night shift has been easier than I thought. I thought I would have to spend my shift standing up to get through the night. In truth the night shift was like an old friend I was coming back to not at all the wrestling match it had been. 

       

Part of it is the patrols. I think I pull two miles of walking every night and at least eight trips up the stairwells. I’m so out of shape that I can feel it in my heart when I take long walks. The heart has so much to do with the head that getting me up and moving about helps keep me awake.

       

I’ve worked at places where it breaks you down after a few months, but I don’t think there is enough walking on this post to do much to me physically.

       

The energy drinks are a part of my life but only on Mondays for the most part. That’s the one thing I have trouble with, because I can’t get to sleep during the day on the weekends. I’ve no idea why that would be, given that this way I only sleep six times a week. Then if you think about it I’m getting eight hours on the competition.

       

Another thing I do to stay up is chew gum. The action of chewing keeps me up. That doesn’t help a huge amount, just takes the edge off, still taking the edge off is enough.

       

Overall, I’m glad that I’m back on nights, but I’m happier that I’m back working. My unemployment came out to sixty percent of my old pay but is less than forty of my new pay and with the bills finally coming in I need stability.

Bundle up and keep warm,

Richard Leland Neal

A Sad Moment

Anyone who has been reading this blog for any length of time knows that I have had a good amount of crappie moments in my life.

Well…haven’t we all?

20^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

In my last letter I told you about the day my mother died in spirit. Now it would be only write to tell you of the day she died in body.

   

I recall that day rather well. I was coming home from school with a cross word puzzle as home work and dreading it but looking forward to an in class film on Friday. I arrive home before the other children and found my father sitting on the couch and told him that I needed to bring something in do drink during the film.

   

He looked at me and said “you’re not going to school Friday.”

   

I asked why, and he told me “because that’s the day of your mother’s funeral.” Little did he know that I had come to terms with this inevitable event. In truth, I would not have wished my mother even one more second of the suffering she had felt waiting to die in that room.

   

I recall before the funeral the old man saying “I keep expecting someone to call and tell me this is all just a big mistake.” I couldn’t understand why he would say that given current events, but now I think he was just being selfish. He didn’t want the burden of looking after his children.

   

I remember that we went back to my grade school to tell them what had happen so they would know why I was absent. The school knew well my mother’s condition, and my absence would have made them worry. One of the things I knew even then was that even the horrible truth is better than not knowing.

   

I didn’t cry that day, because I felt there was no reason. If I knew what lie ahead of me that day I would have, I would have broken down and asked to be buried with my mother. Still, at least I know that one day there will be peace ahead of me.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Act Like You?!

If you've read this blog regularly you know how I feel about college Professors. I’m not alone.

16^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

Today I ran into an acting teacher who volunteers at my work. I can’t tell you about the residents, but I can talk to you about this fellow who shared the most interesting story with me.

   

First he told me that he owns and runs a manufacturing company. He did get his degree in theater but admitted that if he really wanted to be an actor he would have moved to New York rather than go to college in that discipline.

   

He and I got to talking about my experiences as a theater student, and he said that he could relate. One of the requirements for his degree was to have stage managed a production at the college. To do that one had to interview with the director, and his story began as he was walking to the Professor’s office for said interview.

   

On his way to the stairwell he saw the director in question walk to the elevator, so he decided to follow. He got into the elevator with her and they got to talking. They spoke of nothing of interest just the humdrum of theater and the world of the arts.

   

As they talked the Professor twirled her keys on her finger. On leaving the elevator the coordination of talking, walking, and twirling proved too much for the Teacher, and her keys fell to the ground. The student picked them up and handed them back to her.

   

When the Professor learned that he was to interview for her Stage Manager she refused to see him, because he had picked up her keys. She felt that it was a sexist act and that she couldn’t work with a student who thought women were incapable of looking after themselves.

   

Women’s liberation is a wonderful thing, but every now and again the old hags make it lose its luster.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Intimidating Job Interview

Some time I need to get the list of common job interview questions and post them with my responses.

14^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

I have gone on the most intimidating job interview of my life. It was the second interview with these folks, and it was conducted by no less than three people. It was like facing a firing squad. Apparently, I was not only to be interview by their head of security but by the heads of two other departments.

   

The questions they asked were no different than those asked in the first interview. How do you deal with de-escalating a fight? What do you like in a supervisor? Basic things for security really, but it was more that I had to answer to the satisfaction of all three people that put me so off center.

   

I have to admit that I went in there not wanting the job. Sure, I wanted to work, but my unemployment is still coming in. The only reason I went on the interview was because I want to stop living on the state dollar.

   

If I didn’t walk in that little room and give it my best effort I would be no better than the people who I can’t stand. My college professors lived off tax dollars and didn’t think about who they were hurting. Their job is to imbue the economy with able minded workers, and they do that so poorly. I know there are people who could have returned to work but didn’t, and I understand turning down a job that is a step lower than a government check. This was a step up.

   

I walked out of there hoping that the other folks they interviewed were better off than I. I knew they had trouble with my references and thought the job was out of reach.

   

That was last week and my first day of work is today.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal 

Lost My Mood Ring

 

While a Person is Out - Irish Proverb

 

Sharing Grief

21^st November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

So now I have written about the day my mother gave up on life and the day death claimed her. Now another moment, if you will permit me, is my return to school after the funeral.

   

It was a Monday, I will never forget that, and I attended class thinking that the world would go on. By this time I had turned ten, and at ten I was no wiser than I was at nine. Now I believe we put so much into the time of death that it is harder for us to return to our lives, but at the time I was unprepared for what would happen.

   

My mother’s death was terrible not that in it happened, but in those things that happened because of its happening. This would be the first of those sad events. I entered the class room thinking that all would be as it was when my 5^th grade teacher called me to the front.

   

She told me, with the whole class watching, that if I needed to excuse myself to cry I could. I told her that I felt there would be no need for that, and to my surprise she broke down at that moment. She fell into my arms, and I as a young man had no idea how to react.

   

In my confusion I patted her on the back not truly understanding what was happening. I still fail to understand why she was overwhelmed by emotion. Why my own pain was felt so strongly by others I cannot say, but I assure you it didn’t help things.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Hotheaded Doctor

 

The Day My Mother Died

This whole thing came from a conversation regarding my birthday were I had to explain why I did not celebrate the day.

I don’t know if these morbid topics make for good reading so maybe you can tell me. I have to tell Cassi because she asked but not necessarily tell you. So tell me what you think, do you want to see more letters like this?

19^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

It had never occurred to me that I had failed to relay the events of my mother’s death now some twenty two years ago. It happened around this time of year and so I was given reason to dislike the holidays. Somehow I got it into my head that topics like that are things I should shy away from. The dismal facts of my life are many and numerous. I could drown you in a deluge of depressing events, but as the scars are closed if not healed I have no need.

   

In any case, my mother died in her second relapse of cancer. It was a disease that ate her over the years, and finally its burrowing caught into the chamber of her spirit and she was gone. That is not to say that this was the day she died, but the day she stopped living.

   

That I recall well. Her three children were called to come see her at the care facility as we did every weekend, and she called us in one by one to tell us that she was going to die.

   

I remember telling her that we had seen all this before and that she had lived through it, but she told me that it was worse this time. I believed that it was best to try and keep a positive outlook. I was a not to bright nine year old who believed what I was told.

   

I don’t blame my mother for giving up. She had lived a hard life and she deserved eternal rest. Even the solace of nothingness must have been a relief after what that poor woman lived through. That is why I know that whatever lies waiting for us beyond this world my mother is in a better place.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Not the End of the World

 

Letting Things Go

Some days you just have too many bills

12^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

In recent weeks I’ve felt the sting of letting things go so more deeply than before that it has become a topic of note. I had to send in a payment for grad school, pay my property tax, replace my oven, and have my heater repaired all in the same week. Doing so lefty me behind in my finances though the four digit output of a single week was not braking to my bank.

   

I will say that the chief expense was my oven and even as the cheapest of its kind with installation it would run more than a thousand dollars. That’s one of those things about ovens. They do make smaller ovens, but not gas, and the little ones are really not worth using.

   

I could have bought my oven for a few dollars less if I wanted to wait until December to have it installed. However, the saving totaling less than fifty dollars was more than it would have cost to live without the device. I make more than a few things for my salads with the oven and to buy them I would have to settle for less healthy more expensive alternatives.

   

I was in luck on one point. One of my neighbors installs ovens for a living. He built a cradle for the thing to sit on in its cabinet because this oven was shorter than the last. I could have got one with a full sized broiler, but I’ve never used a broiler and have no idea what one does with a full sized one.

   

The oven came in and he put it in the wall for me the next day. It looks a bit ugly but I’ll stain the wood to match soon. I knew I couldn’t keep using the old oven. The side wall had bent and the screws that held the door on had fallen out. I just wish I didn’t have to pay for all this at once.

Stay Safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Sunlit Mirror - Dannie Abse

It is Really Mortifying - Abigail Adams

Waiting

In this economy they can ask for more work and credentials for less pay. I was once told that the way things are going one day we will all need Ph.D.’s to work at the local fast food restaurant

11^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

It was some time ago that I ran into a job post that I thought was a joke. I really thought it was either that or a misprint of some kind, because it advertised a security job needing a Bachelor’s Degree preferably in Social Work.

   

I sent in an application to this place and found that it was no joke. The pay was better than my unemployment so I went in for an interview. I’ve never waited for an interview that long past the appointment time. Not that I had anything better to do or that I failed to keep myself properly occupied, but job interviews always get my kiddies going.

   

I must have gone to the head at least five times before someone came out to see me and this place had those hot air machines. I guess they are better for the environment but they just fall short of paper towels.

   

I was met by a mature woman who took me to her office, and through her voice inflections and body language I could tell that she was quite taken with my credentials. I would say that she exhibited some enthusiasm for us to work together even before the interview.

   

When we had completed our proceedings she asked me to wait for the head of security to come and conduct my second interview. She came back a few minutes later and told me that he was at dinner, but that I should come back Monday at three.

   

More than two and a half hours after my interview appointment I walked out of that place feeling tired; tired, old, and weary for what lies ahead.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal 

TV - Goodman Ave

Veronica?

I have no idea who this letter was sent to or if it was sent at all. I imagine it never was and a good thing given how much I ramble.

By “finished a play” I mean closed a production where I was an extra. My part evolved to become the angel of death, because I came to put death masks on everyone.

I have no less than thirty eight documents from nineteen ninety five to go through now and most look like they should be posted.

That is more remembering who I was than anyone can be comfortable with, but I will press on.

26^th March 1995

Dear Veronica,

                      

I just finished a play called "The Language of Flowers". It was tiring, but it was worth it. My grades Suffered a bit but you know how it is. I still haven't gotten in to TV that is what I wish I was doing. There is more money in TV. I got in touch with an actor friend of mine. He said that I can be represented, but at he had lost the agents number.

                     

The room of my dwelling is too small for a 15 year old. All I can think of some times is a bigger room. I have a dream a two story house and neighbors that live 1\4 mile from the place. It’s too much to ask for at this age, but a man can dream can't he.

    

To dream

a warm embrace in the night

that you wish would never end

if it is humble

or impossible

it is still a sliver of heaven

not easily left in the dust

of the human mind

like an echo

it returns

to hold the mind prisoner

for another time

                       

I apologize for the bad poetry it just gets in my blood that's all. Never been very good at it, but I will get better with practice. Sometimes I get some words in my skull and they stick there like I need to use them. It’s not a crime to be bad at something; it’s just a burden we must endure.

                          

                                                                                    

In good health,

R.L. Neal