Category Archives: Writing and creativity

The Intriguing Consequences of a Lack of Communication Between the Two Hemispheres of the Brain

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

It makes things harder than they need to be

Photo by Anna Shvets: https://www.pexels.com/photo/finger-pointing-to-a-brain-scan-4226119/

It must have distressed my parents when I was a baby when it was time to sit up, crawl, and walk. I didn’t reach those milestones when I was supposed to. My mom told me stories of how she would be in tears because I couldn’t understand how to tie my shoes.

My parents thought they had some clarity when the doctors diagnosed my Dyslexia. How surprised they would be if they knew. Years after they passed away I found out Dyslexia wasn’t my problem.

My brain is wired differently, not a big deal at all

It was an honest mistake, I guess. Missing benchmarks is also symptomatic of Dyslexia. The “ Brain Damage” trope my parents rammed down my throat also makes sense.

It makes sense because I was born with agenesis of the corpus callosum. The corpus callosum is a white matter tract. It connects the human brain’s two hemispheres.

It could be a problem, one side needs to know what the other is doing, I guess.

The corpus callosum allows the two hemispheres to communicate with each other. With agenesis, the corpus callosum doesn’t form, or The organ might not be there.

As you might imagine, when the two hemispheres of our brains can’t communicate with each other. There will be issues. It’s why I’m so clumsy and prone to messiness and disorganization.

It’s also why I overcompensate by doing things the same way, and it’s why I dislike change.

I grew up believing I was Dyslexic, but it appears that’s not true

Dyslexia and agenesis share a few of the same traits. Traits like sitting up and walking later than I should have. Having trouble learning to tie shoes is also a trait of Dyslexia and agenesis.

I thought it was interesting when I read the neuropsychologist’s report. It clearly stated that there was no evidence of Dyslexia. I had the symptoms. I understand how the doctors made the mistake when I was young.

ADHD is a common symptom of agenesis

I haven’t been diagnosed with ADHD. If I had I wasn’t told about it. I have some of the traits. ADHD is a common symptom of agenesis. I have always had trouble focusing and sitting still. When I was a child the doctors prescribed drugs to calm me down.

They threw the drugs away, I’m not sure it was the right thing to do

My parents threw the drugs away because they turned me into a zombie. I always wondered why I had a hard time sleeping at night. Insomnia is one of the symptoms. I read the myriad of symptoms and shook my head in amazement.

It was like reading the story of my life. A man is supposed to be able to assemble things work on an engine and change a tire. If you see me trying to change a tire get your phone out and record the show.

The video will go viral.

Anger and bitterness are wastes of energy, I’m trying hard to let it go

I spent most of my life bitter about my situation. I wondered why I had no talents or gifts. I was angry at my parents and God for putting me on the earth to take up space and not be good for anything.

I owe my late parents and my God an apology. I have the gift of writing and communicating. It took a lifetime to find those gifts, it took too long but I’m making up for lost time.

The past doesn’t matter, I’m doing better here and now

Bitterness served no purpose. The hand that I was dealt doesn’t matter. What matters is how I’m playing the cards I’m dealt with. I’m determined to make the later stages of my life the best part of my life.

Making peace with myself is the start of that journey.

Final Thought:

None of us are perfect. I’m finding out late in life the reasons I had so much trouble. It’s a struggle, but I’m doing my best to stop letting my limitations get me down. I’m working hard and I’m defying the expectations of doctors and family members.

Whatever limitation you have, keep fighting. Continue to learn and grow as a person. It will be harder for you than it is with other people, but the victory of overcoming will be sweeter. Whatever you do, don’t be bitter. I know from experience that bitterness will weigh you down and keep you from your goals.

Never give up.

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Interpreting a Psychiatric Report: Contemplating Borderline Intellectual Functioning
Trying to keep things in perspectivemedium.com

Did a Wrong Diagnosis of Dyslexia Hold Me Back?

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

I don’t know what to think

Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-an-elderly-man-with-gray-facial-hair-8860209/

While I was cleaning out my Google Cloud storage, I came across the results of tests I underwent by a neuropsychologist and his team. I used my cellphone to photograph each page. I included the report in the paperwork I sent to apply for Disability.

I knew deep in my heart that Dyslexia wasn’t my problem

It’s been interesting reading, and it’s given me a lot to think about. The thing that jumped out at me yesterday when I was re-reading the report. I grew up hearing my parents talk about my Dyslexia. I was nine years old when the doctors diagnosed me with a learning disability.

“ Such a profile of Academic performance is not consistent with a language-based learning disability such as Dyslexia.”

Excerpt from the report from the Neuropsychology tests

“What the Hell?” I thought, To hear my parents tell it, I had all the symptoms. They reinforced the thought. They blamed Dyslexia for every setback and failure of my adult life.

Never mind the fact that other Dyslexics have productive lives, my Dyslexia was worse, or some crap like that

It was the theme of my life growing up, “ You were born with Dyslexia and Brain Damage.” I grew so frustrated with it. I told my dad once, when I was in my twenties, “Not everything is about Dyslexia, Sometimes I f_ up like everyone else.”

I have heard other people talk about Learning Disabilities. “ I never let Dyslexia define me.” Well, isn’t that special? It was beat into my psyche from the minute I started school.

Mom wasn’t forthcoming, she flat-out lied

Mom and Dad were holding out on me. One day out of frustration. I asked my mom, “The Doctors must have diagnosed something other than Dyslexia. Other Dyslexics are successful, why am I having so much trouble? What did the Doctors tell you?”

“ I don’t remember.” my mom answered without looking me in the eyes. The only time I caught her in a lie. I was in my thirties at the time. At this point, It doesn’t make any difference.

I ask myself, “What difference does it make?”

I try to put it in perspective If I had known the extent of the cognitive issues I was born with, would I have given up? What should I have done? All I wanted was to have gainful employment and a family of my own. I never achieved those goals.

The thought of giving up never entered my mind. I was driven to work hard to show others I wasn’t feeble-minded and lazy. I also wanted to prove it to myself.

If I had known the truth, would things been different?

If I knew the truth what would I have done differently? I don’t know, but I suspect the knowledge would have been a crutch. I learned to work hard and never quit. If I had been a quitter I would have ended up where the doctors said I should be, in an institution.

Hopes and dreams are powerful. Would I have accepted it if I knew for sure that I wouldn’t get to where I dreamed of being? would I have muddled through life waiting for death?

In the past, I looked back and wondered what might have been, but what if it was never meant to be, to begin with? I’m not stupid. I have a writing talent. I proved that I’m a good communicator, and my growing YouTube channel has established that.

Better late than never, I guess

Why did it take so long to figure this out? The plan is to not worry about the timing. I am grateful I discovered my writing talent and I’m grateful for Medium and Illumination. The Illumination Publication and the Medium Platform have given me an outlet.

The question was, “Did a Wrong Diagnosis of Dyslexia hold me back?” I’m not sure it did. I’m also not sure what path I could have chosen that would have led to a fulfilled life.

I knew deep down Dyslexia wasn’t the whole story

I was diagnosed with Dyslexia at a young age. As I grew older I had the nagging feeling that Dyslexia wasn’t the reason for my dysfunction. I found out years later that my feelings were correct.

Knowing the truth has no practical benefit. I’m on disability and will never get fired from a job again. The information has given me a certain amount of peace, but I can’t help feeling angry and bitter.

I have a lot of time now to do what makes me happy

I’m not proud of that, but I always try to be honest when I write. There is a bright side. I have more time to write and make videos. My content entertains and helps people. It took a lifetime, but I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.

My past has helped me be productive in the present and I provide value for people, so it’s all good.

Final Thought:

It’s hard to get out of the box life puts you in. Your hopes and dreams Life thwarts your dreams every chance it gets. Never lose hope. Keep trying to find your way and do what you can to be happy. If God wills it, you will get to where you’re supposed to be.

Mom and Dad Held Out on Me, but What Difference Does It Make?
Questions without answersmedium.com

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End Spring Break: Let’s Save Lives Like Riley Strain’s

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

Spring Break serves no useful purpose

Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric: https://www.pexels.com/photo/people-walking-on-the-street-between-buildings-2385210/

In the early 200s, I worked enough overtime as a security guard to afford a weekend in Cancun. I was in my forties and it would be my second trip alone. One of the things I wanted to do was go to “COCO BONGOS” I saw a segment on the Travel Channel and I had to check it out for myself.

After a day of drinking on the beach, I went to my hotel room and got cleaned up. COCO BONGOS was a short walk from my hotel. I walked there to see when it opened.

Long Island Iced Teas are awesome

The place didn’t open until 9:00 P.M. An American Doorman was working outside of the club. He talked me into buying an all-I-could-drink pass. I bought the pass and killed time at the hotel bar and The Hard Rock Cafe.

I arrived back at COCO BONGOS early. There was a line that stretched for quite a distance. Inside the club patrons filled all the best seats. I walked up the stairs to the last remaining nosebleed seat.

My waiter was at my side right away. “ What are you having tonight sir?” He asked. I told him I had been drinking all day and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. He suggested a Long Island Iced Tea.

I had no idea how much I paid for the All I Could Drink Pass

I had an unlimited drink pass. I was half-lit before the show started. I have no idea when I left the club, or how I made it back to my hotel room alive. I’m still amazed that I woke up the next morning early with hardly any hangover.

I thought about that night when I watched the News footage of Riley Strain stumbling down the street. The National News reported that the bar is under investigation for overserving him.

They should have called the cops, Riley would have woke up sick, but alive

I don’t understand why the staff kicked him out of the bar. If he was causing a problem, why didn’t they call the cops and have him spend the night in the drunk tank?

Throwing Riley out alone when he had trouble standing up because he was trashed, is irresponsible. I know that Riley should have been careful, but I was a kid once, so I can’t judge him too hard.

Spring Break is motivated by greed and should be outlawed

The Bouncers should have sat Riley down somewhere and called the cops or Paramedics. The whole thing upsets me. I can’t wrap my head around how it must hurt to bury a son so young.

What purpose does Spring Break serve anyway? It’s time that cities stop rolling out the Red Carpet every Spring. I know Spring Break is fun, if I was young and had the money, I would have partied with the best of them.

They’re in college, but they’re still kids

Kids will be kids. As Adults, we must do what we can to help them survive college. A mistake cost Riley Strain his life. Let us do what we can to stop more tragedies from occurring.

It is time to do away with Spring Break.

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My Background and My Goals as a Writer

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

A little about me and what I hope to accomplish

Author’s personal photo

My name’s Lawson Wallace, I’m a 63-year-old married man. I live in South Carolina with my wife Olivia. A woman I met on Facebook. I’m the oldest son of an Air Force Enlisted man. I write on Medium.com and I’m a senior editor for Illumination Integrated Publications.

My dad’s duties in the Air Force required a lot of travel. We lived all over the States, and we spent quite a bit of time in Japan. I graduated from high school at Yokota Air Force Base.

We lived all over the Country. We also spent time in Japan.

The traveling continued after my family moved back to the States. I’m hoping I will stay in South Carolina for a long time, but I will not lose sleep if I have to move someday.

I’m on Disability, so I have a lot of time to write when my wife allows it. My goals as a writer are, to make a living with my words. I make enough writing on Medium to buy a book for my Kindle every month.

I want to use Medium to pivot into new writing gigs.

I would like to pivot away from Medium and make money with other platforms. That’s why I have a Substack newsletter and a YouTube channel where I talk about my writing.

The ultimate goal is exposure, I want writing gigs, I know I can be an asset, and I need to find clients that I will be a good fit with. I’m confident I will do that.

In no particular order, here are my top twenty stories

I’m not afraid to document my mistakes. I have submitted my writing to magazines, only to get rejection letters. I ordered The Writer’s Market, I looked through it and found out why my writing was rejected. I wrote a story about it.

The 2023 Writer’s Market Arrived in the Mail, and No Wonder My First Short Story Submission ended…
Writing is about gaining and using knowledgemedium.com

Sometimes, I voice strong opinions, this story is a commentary on current events. It received a lot of views and reads. It shows that commenting on controversial topics pays off.

Drag Queen Story Hour Is Disgusting, and No Way Should Children Be Exposed to It
Let kids be kidsmedium.com

I’m White, and I’m married to a Black woman. We have a good relationship. I write about our lives sometimes. Whenever I write about our marriage, the stories do quite well

I am a White Man She is a Black Woman We Get Along Fantastic
We have both learned Diplomacymedium.com

This is a story I’m proud of, I was accepted as a writer for The Writing Cooperative. This was the first, and so far, the only story I have submitted to them. It was accepted right away. It’s one of my favorite stories.

I Had Wanted to Write, Working at Bus Terminals Inspired Me to Do That
The beginning of an ongoing journeywritingcooperative.com

I live in a delightful apartment complex. The neighbors feel the need to slam their doors as hard as they can. There are other issues with the neighbors, so I’m sure there will be other stories written.

Slamming your apartment door is important, I need to know you’re coming and going at all times
Rude and clueless people annoy memedium.com

I was homeless for almost three years. I write about the experience often. This is one of my most-read stories about that time in my life.

If You Give a Homeless Person Twenty Bucks, Don’t Expect Him to Go to Burger King
You’re paying for a liquid lunchmedium.com

One of my earlier stories, and it’s the first story that had a lot of views and reads. I still think about that job over twenty years later.

I Worked at the Largest Low Income Community in St. Petersburg
It was Funmedium.com

My most well-received stories come out when I allow myself to be vulnerable. I wrote this story to get something off my chest that had been eating at me for a while. I felt much better after writing it.

IT Might be truth but it;s not my truth
You can rise above itmedium.com

When I was a kid, I and my family lived in Japan for a number of years. My dad was stationed there twice. During our first tour there, my parents moonlighted as English teachers. We became friends with a lot of Japanese people. We had opportunities to go to Japanese bathhouses on occasion.

A Hairy White Teenager in a Japanese Bathhouse
Lawson Wallacemedium.com

Not only am I married to a black woman, but she’s also a lot shorter than I am. Even though we live in the American South, we haven’t had too many issues, although there have been some funny moments.

The Looks My Wife and I Get When We Are Out in Public
We laugh about itmedium.com

I’m a little rough around the edges, and I have a problem with overly-sensitive crybabies. I wrote this story to express my disdain for “The Woke.”

You’re not “ Woke,” You’re Weak and Pathetic, so Grow Up
Have a sense of humor and consider the sourcemedium.com

Another story that received a lot of comments. I don’t see the logic in dragging down rich people. Rich people create businesses that employ people like me. Dragging them down will not lift anyone up.

No, The Rich don’t have an obligation to Take Care of Homeless People
Achievement is not a crimemedium.com

An early story that received a few reads. I started to write more personal stories. Those stories do well, but they are painful to write.

I am stronger than I thought I was
And so are youmedium.com

Another angry story. Census takers are still knocking on my door to this day. They ask the same questions and get the same answers. I have filled out and sent three completed census forms, but they can’t figure that out yet.

Is the Census Bureau Government at its Finest?
I hope notmedium.com

Let me start off by saying that I didn’t go outside until the cops and ambulance left the scene. I have enough sense not to go outside when there’s a gunfight in front of my apartment. A badly worded sentence in the story caused confusion.

The Gunfight outside my Window
Or how my wife and I dodged some Bulletsmedium.com

When I was in my late teens-early twenties, I lived with my grandparents for a year, after I left Japan. The house was creepy, to say the least. I shared a true incident of a night that freaked me out.

The house my grandparents lived in
It was a very creepy housemedium.com

Another early story was the first one where I wrote about how I met my wife. It’s short and to the point. I have written several stories about our relationship.

I met my wife the year I became homeless.
It was a day or two before Halloween 2014. I had accepted a Facebook friend request from an African-American who lived…lawsonwallace.medium.com

A story about bad memories coming back to cause pain. This is one of many stories I wrote about being homeless. As the years go by, the memories fade, so I don’t write about as much as I did, but memories and stories return at the oddest times.

Bad Memories Make Great Stories
At least they are worth somethingmedium.com

Homeless shelters can be dangerous places. I tried hard to be invisible, but that didn’t stop close calls from happening. I almost was hurt a few times. I’m fortunate and blessed that I was able to get out of that life.

I Had Two Close Calls at the Homeless Shelter, All Because I Forgot My Own Rules
I didn’t keep my head downmedium.com

If you would like to read more of my stories you can have them delivered to your inbox as soon as they are published.

Get an email whenever Lawson Wallace publishes.
Get an email whenever Lawson Wallace publishes. By signing up, you will create a Medium account if you don’t already…lawsonwallace.medium.com

Illumination Book Chapters

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

The New Shelter

Lost in Minneapolis Chapter Three: Olivia Sends me a Cellphone

Photo by Michael Burrows from Pexels

On my last day at the shelter, I went downstairs and ate breakfast, then I went upstairs and packed. I sat and waited for the caseworker to come upstairs and take me to transitional housing.

It was an ugly building, but I didn’t care

My new home was an ugly eight-story building in downtown Minneapolis. I got my stuff out of the back of the caseworker’s car, I needed to get a cart to haul all my crap. I entered the building, there was a window just inside the entrance where a black woman sat at a desk.
 She introduced herself and led me to a table, we sat down and she pulled papers from a folder. I spent several minutes signing papers and listening as she laid down the rules.

There are always rules

With that done, I was given a tour of the building, then another resident lead me to the laundry area on my floor, all my clothes had to run through the dryer in a futile effort to kill the bedbugs.

It was the first time that I was alone in months

I spent the rest of the day in my room napping. There was no WIFI or running water and having food and cooking in the rooms was against the rules. I slept until near lunchtime, then I headed downstairs to the dining room.
 “The food is better here.” I thought as I ate my lunch. I finished eating and went back to my room. That first night alone in my room, I couldn’t sleep. The sores from the bedbug bites I sustained at the other shelter were itching and driving me nuts.

Too excited to sleep, or it was probably the long nap

The bedbugs and excitement about being in a new place kept me awake most of the night.
“The food is better.” I thought as I ate lunch. During the week, there was a cold breakfast, a choice of cereal or toast, and bagels. Lunch and dinner were hot meals, but there was a hot breakfast on weekends.

I spent a lot of time in the computer room

I ate breakfast, then I decided to check out the computer room. I had to sign in and give the employee at the desk my driver’s license, then she led me to the computer room and logged me into a computer.
 
Several computers were in use, folks streaming videos, or on Facebook. I checked my email, then I logged on to Facebook and talked to Olivia for an hour or so. I was still beat down from the shelter, but I needed to get out and explore the area and get things done.

I got out and explored Minneapolis

The third day, I felt a lot better, I found out where the transit office was, I bought a bus pass, I then headed back to the post office to check my mail. Olivia sent me a DVD. I watched the movie and went to bed early.
 My room was small, with no running water and an awful bed, but it did have a small desk and the most uncomfortable chair on earth, made from plastic. I didn’t care, I wrote almost every day.

I worked on the novel I will never finish

The next day, I met with a caseworker and a nurse to discuss my medications and my health. I spent the rest of the day on Facebook and in my room writing.
 After about five days, people started to introduce themselves and the seeds of friendships were planted.

The Staff took care of me

My caseworker arranged for the shelter to buy me some much-needed glasses. I started to get out and explore the area. I quickly fell in love with downtown Minneapolis.
The shelter was close to the library, and a Barnes and Noble’s was closer still. My book collection grew. Everything was great, but not having a phone was a pain in the ass.

We had never met in person, but she sent me a phone

“How would you like me to send you a phone?” Olivia asked me one day. I wasn’t surprised, she had been sending me money for months. I told her having a phone would be awesome.
 I walked across town to the post office by the other shelter to get it. I walked back to the shelter and spent the rest of the day syncing music, I loved that phone. I spent the next few days going from WIFI hotspot to WIFI hotspot downloading free music and posting on social media.

My first case manager was useless

I was assigned a case manager, I was supposed to see him forty-eight hours after I moved into the shelter. I think I met him a month later. I discovered quickly how big a piece of shit he was, but he was worse than I knew.
 My case manager did the little things to pad his reports, He first took me to get a replacement for my worn and tattered Social Security card, the next day he took me to the DMV to get my State Identification card.
 The people at the DMV wanted to see my Birth Certificate, but I didn’t have it with me. Kenny took me back a week later after I found the Birth Certificate in my overnight bag.

The Skyways fascinated me

When the Caseworker left me alone, I spent my days either in my room or exploring the Skyways. I would also take a short walk to the library. The library was fun to go to. It was a better experience being there and not having to worry about dozing off.
 We received our General Assistance money on the first. Most of my neighbors spent their money on booze and drugs. The Park next to the shelter would be a party zone for a few days, then it would die down as the money ran out.
 
I would get necessities, snacks, laundry detergent, and clothing. I always had money left over. I also spent a lot of time at the Book store. I always managed to stop by the coffee shop and buy a Mocha or Latte.

Two years after we starting talking, we finally met

Time went by, Olivia and I had been talking for two years. One day Olivia called me, “Hey babe, how would you like for me to come to Minneapolis for a few days?” The smile I had when I heard those words damned near split my skull in half.
 We talked some more, then we both got busy. I couldn’t just leave the shelter for the weekend. I had to get a pass from my case manager, while Olivia booked a hotel room.
 I was so excited; I was ready to explode. The funny thing was, I wasn’t nervous at all. I packed my overnight bag the night before I left. The next morning, I walked the few blocks to the light-rail station heading to the Airport.

The Next Chapter:

We finally meet in person.

Life after Minneapolis

Lawson lives in South Carolina with his wife Olivia. It has been four years since he left Minneapolis. His life is a lot better now.

The Room Upstairs and a Big Mistake

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

Lost in Minneapolis Chapter two: She forgave me for being an Idiot

Photo by MART PRODUCTION from Pexels

My name’s Lawson Wallace. I live in South Carolina with my wife Olivia. My wife has been after me to write a book about when I was homeless and how we met. I decided to publish the book here on Illumination Book Chapters.

The story is true as best as I can remember it. Some things though were blocked out. I have included background from when I was younger for context.

In this chapter: I get a bed upstairs and Olivia and I get to know each other

The Room upstairs

At the time, I had an iPhone. The carrier had discontinued service because they wanted me to pay my bill for some reason. There was a payphone on the floor; Olivia had texted me her cellphone number; one afternoon, I called her.

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I stopped in front of the phone and picked up the receiver, and started dropping quarters into the slot. We talked until I ran out of quarters.

WIFI is a beautiful thing

“Wait a minute.” I was sitting on the bunk and in front of my laptop; when Olivia messaged me. “You have an iPhone, and you have WIFI, right?” I confirmed that I did have both of those.

“We can talk on our phones over WIFI.” I shook my head and smiled ruefully. I gave her my number, and she called me.

Why didn’t I think of that?

Once we started talking, we talked all the time. The only problem I had was finding an outlet to keep my phone charged. After a few weeks of talking on the phone, Olivia started sending me money.

Olivia was concerned about me

I was supposed to be receiving GA and food stamps, but somehow that didn’t happen. Olivia was concerned, that’s why she started sending me money that somehow rarely made it past the shelter mailbox.

“There’s a post office around the block from the shelter,” I told her one day. She asked me for the address and phone number. She wanted to know how much a post office box cost.

I soon had a post box to receive money and whatever else she wanted to send me. I sent her a picture, and she decided I needed a haircut. This led to an embarrassing incident, or as I like to call a bone-head move.

For a smart guy, I do incredibly dumb things

I was staying with these people, it was an uncomfortable situation, so I stayed in the basement as much as possible. I spent a lot of time on my laptop. It was around this time that someone had hacked some celebrity computers.

Thousands of hours of sex videos and nude pictures of these celebrities were online for the world to see. I couldn’t resist the chance to see Kate Upton and other attractive stars naked.

I was proud of my first haircut in months

What I didn’t realize was, the MacBook saved all those pictures to my hard drive. While I was upstairs, Olivia sent me the money to get a haircut. One of my roommates took me to a haircutting place in Nicollet Mall.

I heard about the skyway, but I never thought about exploring it. My roommate led me through it to the mall. The skyway is an interlinked closed pedestrian footbridge that connects nine and a half miles of Downtown Minneapolis.

To say that Olivia was pissed is an understatement

I got my haircut and excitedly headed back to the shelter, I wanted to show Olivia my new haircut. I sat on the bed and powered up the MacBook and used the camera and took a selfie, then I sent a photo.

I realized a second too late, that I sent the nude photo of Kate Upton. “Fuck, Shit, no, no,” I repeated aloud as I frantically pounded on the keys of the MacBook. It was no use. I waited with my blood pressure escalating for the call that came seconds later.

She forgave me, Thank God

“I’m so sorry Olivia, please, I’m so sorry.” I waited for her response, silently pleading that she wouldn’t dump me. She started to talk, she was calm, but her voice could have frozen the Lake of Fire.

“I don’t know why you sent that to me, but I forgive you.” I calmed down a bit, but I wondered what she would say next. “Forget about it.” She said, her voice thawing a little.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She said. We talked a few more minutes, when we finished the call, I went through the MacBook and deleted everything that was remotely objectionable.

We laugh about it now

We still talk about the picture incident, but she doesn’t find it as funny as I do now. At the time it wasn’t funny at all. There were other incidents where we had words, but the picture incident was the worst.

The Housing people found me a place to live

I spent Christmas and New Year’s upstairs, I didn’t know it at the time, but the next stage of my life as a homeless person was about to begin.

The housing Lady had sent me to three or four places to see if they would accept me, the last place she sent me accepted my application.

Not Fitting in Isn’t the Problem, Your Feeling Bad about Not Fitting in Is the Problem

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

Being a teenager isn’t fun, but you can make it easier

Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-in-black-hoodie-sitting-on-black-couch-4100643/

I was a teenager once. It seems like a long time ago. My dad was in the Air Force. We moved around a lot. There were times I felt out of place in a new school or church, I always felt out of place in church, who am I kidding?

I would wallow in self-pity about being an outsider and moan and groan because I felt so alone. I can’t go back in time, and I wouldn’t if I could.

Fitting in is overrated, be yourself

What I can do, is advise young people. Don’t worry about fitting in. Trying to fit in led to some mistakes that I made. Mistakes in my thinking and my actions.

I’m fortunate that the mistakes didn’t go far enough to send me to prison or the morgue. Wanting to belong is a powerful influencer. My sophomore year in high school was terrible. After living in Japan for almost four years. My dad got orders to San Antonio Texas.

Talk about a fish out of water, that’s what we were

For some reason, Mom and Dad rented a house in a rural community. It was the typical redneck community. There was a dress code and I had to shave off my mustache.

Most of the teachers were students and graduated from that same high school. Everyone grew up together. My family were outsiders, and the students and teachers never let us forget that.

Students and faculty disliked me and my siblings because we were different. We adopted my sister when we lived in Alaska. She is a full-blooded Eskimo.

My dad had a talk with the principal, explaining about my sister’s three big brothers. That solved the problem

My youngest brother had to fight kids on the bus because of the Racial slurs hurled at her. We all had to deal with constant hatred and suspicion.

My defense mechanism was to try to be invisible, but that didn’t work. I was a benchwarmer on the junior varsity football team. In Texas, a State that worships football.

Nope, still the outsider

You would think that would have been my ticket to acceptance, you would be wrong. I had given up cigarettes that year. I had been smoking since grade school.

I started smoking again. There was a smoking area on campus, but the students had to have parental permission. I wasn’t going to get that.

I hung out with the other stoners

There was a restroom where the smokers without permission hung out. Tobacco wasn’t the only thing that they smoked in that restroom.

I enjoyed weed, and the other stoners accepted me. I didn’t handle things the right way. I have suggestions for anyone who is about to be in a new environment or is in one now.

Be you, don’t downgrade yourself, because it’s not worth it

It’s human to want to fit in, but don’t compromise your morals. Stand tall and be yourself. Being alone isn’t terrible. I have been alone for a good part of my life.

If you have to change positive aspects of your character to fit in, those friends are not worth having. I tried everything in San Antonio.

The Football team and coaches couldn’t stand me

I went to church, but I didn’t fit in. I warmed the bench for the junior varsity football team, and I still didn’t fit in. I started smoking cigarettes and weed.

I fit in, but I started on a road that I was fortunate to get off of years later. None of those kids were worth it. If you don’t fit in, don’t sweat it.

High school doesn’t last forever. Neither will your adult job, and you will move several times in your life. You will find your tribe, don’t sweat it.

Final Thought:

So much unhappiness and misery is caused by the need to fit in. Be yourself. Let your freak flag fly. Your circumstances will change. Don’t lose your self-respect. Don’t compromise your character by trying to fit in with people who aren’t worth your time.

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Freelance Writing, Earning a Living with My Words, That’s the Dream

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

But, how do I rise above the other writers?

Photo by Ron Lach : https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-shot-of-a-man-with-eyeglasses-8035299/

I finished my editing for the day. I checked LinkedIn for freelance writing opportunities. All my writing to date has been on Medium, with a few diversions to other sites.

It’s time that I started making a living with my words. There is a place for everyone. I know there are writing opportunities for me, but how does a new writer get noticed?

New writers need to be proactive and not afraid to put themselves out there.

I’m a writer and editor for Illumination Publications. Earlier today, I asked the owner and chief Editor Dr Mehmet Yildiz for advice. Dr. Yildiz recommended that I read a story published in @TheWritingCooperative, by Nick Wolny. In the story, there was a lot of helpful advice and information. After reading the story, a plan of action formed in my mind.

I wrote the plan in the form of a story outline. I wrote this story and I will post it on Medium and LinkedIn. I already have conversations with a few writers on LinkedIn, one, in particular, has been very helpful.

I will take my time and try new things, making friends as I go

I will take my time and build relationships with writers, editors, and other creatives. When I was a security guard in Florida, I found very few jobs in the want ads, or through agencies.

Most of the jobs I found, were through relationships. The hope is that I get to know writers and other people in the writing and publishing industry.

There is no downside, I will find jobs, find friends, or both

If I don’t find work, that’s fine. If I form relationships and find mentors and role models that will be a win for me. I’m confident that I will find writing jobs.

I will continue to form relationships and build on them after I find a job. I’m excited about the idea of learning from writers who have been in the business and who know what they are doing.

You have to take risks, what’s the worst that could happen?

It’s impossible to grow without taking risks and putting yourself out there. I have made excuses,” I don’t have experience, I’m not good enough, I don’t have a car.” and on and on.

It’s time to put the excuses to bed. I will build relationships and I will keep writing, learning, and growing. I will do my research and pitch my stories the right way and see what happens.

Final Thought:

Networking the right way is important. Writers and Editors are people. Build relationships and don’t rush things. Keep learning, writing, and networking.

Good things will happen.

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