BBS Webmaster

One of the unfortunate byproducts of a job search is that job searchers are constantly bombarded with information about online schools. This would be no big deal if it were not for the fact that I need to get a state license to do what I intend to go the school for.

In the flesh education is less convenient and harder, but that would be why it’s more legitimate. When faced with this forty five thousand dollar question the answer is assess, assess, assess. (That fourth “s” is very important)

So I sent this email to the state board. Will they reply? Five bucks says no.

26^th August 2011

Dear BBS Webmaster,

I’m currently looking for a grad school to qualify me for a license in mental health counseling.

I’m told you do not recognize a master’s degree from an online school like Grand Canyon University or Capella. Is that true?

Do I need to get an MS or will an MA do?

Thank you for your time,

Richard Leland Neal 

Return to Sender

When I put this letter together Cassi had a few issues with her P.O. box. I received three of my letters back marked return to sender. It was a minor pain in a world of it, but it was there.

11^th July 2011

Dear Cassi,

Our late issues with the mail hit a note with me when I opened the last of the three returned envelopes. It was clear at some point in its two week amblings that the paper was exposed to heat. I could see the ghost image of many of the lines made so by the reactivation of the toner from its printing.

The tortured paper was a clear image of the events surrounding it. That simple piece of paper took a long march to return only to who sent it to have been replaced. It came to life to die as we all do.

The day is a circle of light to dark, but in most parts of the world the day starts in darkness as it ends in darkness. As the earth turns so do lives, and we all return to the darkness from which we came.

That’s what life has felt like for me for these past few years, just an endless circle, a repetition. Hope is the coming of the dawn and the promise of a new day, but is there any worth in that day?

Everywhere I turn in the modern day I find people looking to waste my time. I sent out three job applications to get three new emails about jobs that aren’t real.

The bad economy has given rise to a new breed of scavenger. The internet worms scuttle about leaving a trail of email slime and feeding of the dead flesh that is the job seeker.

I wonder if we can ever wash away the refuse that is making our world sick. Never entirely, but things will improve some day.

Stay safe,

Richard Leland Neal

Dysfunctional System

I can remember this letter and some of the events around it. It’s plain that it was never meant for anyone but sender and recipient. To be honest it’s nothing other than the events of my life strewn out on paper for the benefit of someone who was feeling down.

Cassi had asked me to send her a hard copy of something I said in an email and I obliged. She said she had laughed about it for days. I guess you had to be there.

Monday, 27^th  September of 2010

Dear Cassi,

I do think I found the Email you were talking about.

‘The sad working of the dynamic of those people is more complex than is easy to understand.  A dysfunctional system established a monarch and a scapegoat and the other slugs in the pack pound on the scapegoat in order to gain clout with the monarch. Much like you will see with the comics in all truth.

People talk about dysfunctional families, but I prefer to say “dysfunctional systems" because the work place or social group may have the same dynamic.

In other words: "If you’re the scapegoat home you may become on at work or with your friends" which is what happened to me.

Anyway,

Swift is a good cat most of the time, but she can be a handful when she wants to be.  From what we understand she was left behind by a family that lost their home and couldn't take care of her anymore.

The world is sad and ugly sometimes.’

I guess it was funny, but you have to understand that it was the early cusp of the theory. The thing about dysfunction is that the only people who complain are the scapegoats. Everyone else has someone to put their problems on even though the system is hurting everyone.

Most folks are to much the fool to understand that putting a chain to the wrist of another is nothing more than to manacle them self. That's why I call it a dysfunctional system. If all of the elements, people and what not, could be properly employed then the system would be better for everyone. Let me use myself as an example, my family's activity caused my problems in life. This led to a significant loss of household income that could be placed as the major factor for many of the issues my relatives presently face.

They all convinced themselves that I had no value as a person and so downgraded who I was. Then we have the situation with (a mutual ex-friend) where he gave up thousands of dollars because he wanted to keep the producer as a backup plan rather than fulfilling his promise to me. He stood to be no worse off then he already was and could have gained as much as seventy thousand dollars to put into his next movie. If he ever makes a movie I will be surprised. I suppose your ex didn't lose all that much when he harassed me into leaving his company, but he had nothing to gain by my exodus.

Anyway Cassi, I think it's funny to send letters when I have a telephone, but it can't hurt. Um, and I need to reprint the other two letters I sent because I think the address was wrong. It turns out I forgot the black and left the diamond and knowing the post office you’ll never get them.

Stay safe,

Richard Leland Neal

Image of a Man

This not being a letter I was hesitant to place it on this blog, and this is one occasion where I’ve left the name of the subject in the letter. The truth is that going over my old letters has become something of a trial for me, and I’m not making much progress because of that.

I have a backlog of more than a hundred letters that haven’t been placed on this blog and for every one letter I write I intend to place at least three on the net. There are some letters I reject and will not post for one reason or another, but those are in the minority.

This was an assignment for a writing class, a class where the psychotic teacher wouldn’t stop hounding me after it was over. It’s a funny thing about people they will all too often say “My way or the highway,” then come running after you when you hit the street.

Well, the class told me they liked this, but you tell me what you think.

3^rd December 2007

Baby fat

I could tell the unmistakable form of Frank from a good distance. He is a big man, bigger then me by a good eighty pounds. I could tell something was wrong with him from his step. It was the unmistakable glide of small steps with its slow movement. As he came closer I could tell that his eyes were barely open. Just black slits on his baby fat face.

“You look like hell, Frank.”

“I’ve got a fever of a hundred and two,” he said without stopping. He just glided past as if it took almost all his energy to walk and it probably did. I’ve said many a time that a man as big as Frank is going to have health problems, and he calls off more often than most, and that says something out here.

I’ve often thought that Frank’s fight with obesity was a result of his rearing. He once told me a story about a time he got hit in the head with the back of an ax. He touched a spot over his eye on his shaved head. “I can still feel it,” he told me as I looked at the place were the ax had struck. He pull back his pinkish brown skin to reveal a cleave in the bone.

“I wasn’t supposed to be up that late so my sister snuck me back in the house. When my mom found out she started beating me. She hit it and broke it open again.” I figure that Frank seeks comfort in food. His mother obviously had to be a violent woman to hit her son as he was bleeding. 

“All right Rich, I’m going home.” I looked up from my thought to see Frank holding his fist out to me. I met it with my own, his hands were ice cold. I was relieved to know that they would not make him work in this condition. “I’m sorry for letting you guys down,” he told me.

“Shit happens, Frank, you get some rest.”

Letters to a Soldier: Writing About Stuff to Write

Yeah, this is one of those letters I wrote for no other reason than I thought that a friend of mine wanted to read them.

18^th June 2007

Dear (Soldier),

Well, another week has past and I almost got a day off from work. Not really, we are now short three people. We had it down to two, but then one of the new guards quit because she was told that she had to come to work on time and would have to cut and apply seals like every one else. Not that I’m complaining, more over time is more money in my pocket and that’s a good thing.

As of the time I’m writing this I have about sixty-three days until school starts and around fifteen days to apply for the financial aid I’m not going to get. May as well apply anyway it doesn’t cost me anything, and I might need a student lone.

Your father is bothered by the fact that you called me and not him. I responded with the simple statement that (your wife) reminds you. Let’s face it, it’s normally the truth. Not that I’m complaining. (your wife) needs you more then I do, and it’s important for you two to be there for one another. Then when you think about it it’s always important to be there for the people you care about.

I’m working on a new play right now. I call it “A Mind Bending” about a man in an insane asylum who is on trial for murder. It doesn’t help his case any when he knocks out an orderly who had been beating him.

DAVID: The last time he hit me we were in a crowded hallway. I called out and fell to my knees. With six of your staff watching. He grabbed me by the collar to hall me to my feet, and I caught him off guard. It takes about thirty pounds of pressure to knock a man cold. When the other orderlies came for me I put my hands up, but one of them tackled me, and I hit my head against the wall. Not hard enough to worry me but loud enough to make the staff worry. It opened this (touches bandage on his face) and left a bloodstain. They took me into the infirmary to get me checked out, and I asked the doctor to look at my back. They took off my shirt and found my evidence compelling.

The statement is about human nature and how we learn to live with things, but I’m also trying to talk about the fact that you can’t get something for nothing.

In terms of novels I’m still working on the thing with the Deam. I don’t have a really definitive story line yet. More like a group of related short stories. Nothing developed at this point. I’m working on the other story, but I’m not getting far with the plot. Right now I have begun the story on the bridge of the “Star Seeker” as the ship has used its FTL drives and is lost.

I’ve changed the designed of the ship so that it was originally designed by Clordoenions and they sent an AI to build it for earth. The FTL drive that the Clordoenion ships use creates a universe that moves in relation to the existing universe. I don’t know if I’m going to keep the existing transformation ideas from the story. There are two reasons for his: number one is "how", and number two is "why".

I can see ships with limited flight capabilities that transform into robots, but they would function more as tanks then fighter jets. Jet stream or thruster assistance is a concept that makes cents to me, and having one form for speed and another for maneuverability is in current development.

I intend to read the Robotech books again for research purposes and the rest of the Herbert books once I’m done with Nylund. I still try to read one play every week because of my professional interest, but plays are harder to follow because they don’t have the detail and most of the Characters are less distinguishable.  

Anyway, man, I have to get back to work now and I suppose you do too, so have a good day and stay safe. 

Peace and long life,

Richard Leland Neal