My fantasy for this time of the year would be to be someplace where it is warm. Not hot mind you but warm.
Maybe on a tropical island where the warm sea breezes could blow across me as I lay on the beach and watch the sun come up or go down, doesn't matter to me.
However, I know me well enough to know that that would never happen. I'd get bored way to fast, unless of course I had some good books with me and someone to share it all with.
No, the best bet for me would be to be in some place that it is warm and I could shoot in a benchrest competition. Maybe somewhere in Georgia or maybe Florida. Now, that I could get into.
It's been a long long time since I've had that kind of opportunity.
Just to think about looking through the scope on Baby Gray are BlueBlood, makes me want to leave and go somewhere right now.
Man that gets my blood to pumping and you don't know just how.
I miss it so much, espeically at this time of the year, always happens at this time of the year. I know that was repettive, but it does happen to me. Just about every year.
Now I'm sorry that I brought up this premise.
Oh well, this to shall pass.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Premise
Okay folks, it's time to renew our story telling abilities. Court started our story off back in August, I finally did some work on it this week and passed it on to Amber. Sorry Amber you actually should have been the last one on the list. I could not remember who was where. However, Jared is next after you then Elizabeth and then Brian. Brian should go ahead and make the post onto the blog. Everyone else should work in Word Perfect or whatever and pass the story on to the next via email.
Also please make sure that you make a copy to keep for yourself so that we can see the development of the story when it is finished. We will try and set up a time that we can all get together and do this.
Premise: It is mid-January, the weather is not, I repeat not warm. What would be your desired fantasy for this week. Must be at least 10 lines long.
Also please make sure that you make a copy to keep for yourself so that we can see the development of the story when it is finished. We will try and set up a time that we can all get together and do this.
Premise: It is mid-January, the weather is not, I repeat not warm. What would be your desired fantasy for this week. Must be at least 10 lines long.
Friday, July 14, 2006
I.R. - 07142006 - Assault on an Officer
On Friday, July 14, 2006 at approx. 2132 I (Ofc. J. Glover) was conducting an interior patrol of the Fairchild property. Upon entering the Galley I observed a suspicious person (later identified as Mr. B. Rian). I approached Mr. B. Rian and asked to see some identification at which time he attempted to strike me in the chest with a closed fist. I leaned back causing the swing to miss and then stepped away from Mr. B. Rian. Mr. B. Rian advanced on me and kicked me in the upper thigh. I stepped into the trapping range (a close proximity fighting range) and applied a knee strike to Mr. B. Rian's Common Peronial. He stumbled to his left and as he did I applied a forearm strike to his Brachial Plexus. Once on the ground, Mr. B. Rian stopped resisting and allowed me to place him in handcuffs with no further incident. I was able to notify Plano Police Department at approx. 2134. Plano Police Officers B. Rooklyn (badge #0001) and K. Ylea (badge #0002) arrived on scene at approx. 2155 and took custody of Mr. B. Rian. Plano Police cleared the scene at approx. 2215. Case #12345. Nothing further to report.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Incedent #3402
On the evening of the twenty third of October, 2002, at approximately 9:24 PM, Mrs. Babs Smith called the front desk to report that her mink coat had gone missing. She had last seen it at approximately 5:30 PM, just before leaving her room for dinner.
At 9:32 PM I went to her room to take inventory of the scene. It was somewhat in a mess, but Mrs. Smith said that it may have gotten that way when her and her husband, Mr. Smith, were preparing for dinner. While looking around the room I had noticed a wallet on the table. The wallet was open and the name on the New York drivers license was Lonny Malovich.
When I questioned Mr and Mrs Smith about the wallet they both acted like it was not theirs. However, upon picking up the wallet it was clear to me that Mr. Smith was indeed Mr Malovich. He then became very angry and argumentative. I eventually had to use restraints on Mr. Malovich.
At 9:53 PM I called 911. The Drivesdale Police arrived at 10:05 PM. The removed Mr. Malovich's plastic cuffs and restrained him with Police issue cuffs. Mrs. Smith was also restrained and both were taken in for questioning. One of the offices recognised Mr. Malovich as being wanted in the state of Navada for robbery.
Upon further investigation it turned out that the room was registered to a Mr. and Mrs Johnny Smith, from Utah. They were found early the next morning after coming in from a late night out. They had lost there keys and stopped by the front desk to aquire a new key to their room. There was no mink coat.
At 9:32 PM I went to her room to take inventory of the scene. It was somewhat in a mess, but Mrs. Smith said that it may have gotten that way when her and her husband, Mr. Smith, were preparing for dinner. While looking around the room I had noticed a wallet on the table. The wallet was open and the name on the New York drivers license was Lonny Malovich.
When I questioned Mr and Mrs Smith about the wallet they both acted like it was not theirs. However, upon picking up the wallet it was clear to me that Mr. Smith was indeed Mr Malovich. He then became very angry and argumentative. I eventually had to use restraints on Mr. Malovich.
At 9:53 PM I called 911. The Drivesdale Police arrived at 10:05 PM. The removed Mr. Malovich's plastic cuffs and restrained him with Police issue cuffs. Mrs. Smith was also restrained and both were taken in for questioning. One of the offices recognised Mr. Malovich as being wanted in the state of Navada for robbery.
Upon further investigation it turned out that the room was registered to a Mr. and Mrs Johnny Smith, from Utah. They were found early the next morning after coming in from a late night out. They had lost there keys and stopped by the front desk to aquire a new key to their room. There was no mink coat.
Friday, June 30, 2006
3 Pillars of Joy!
The three things that bring a smile to my lips:
1. The Future. I would call myself a futurist. I read a lot about what is coming soon. It excites me almost to a frenzy.
2. The thought of the impossible becoming, well, possible. Do you remember "It"? It was a under the covers invention that was created by an incredible inventor named Dean Kamen. He invented the iBOT, which is a mechanized wheelchair that climbs obstacles such as stairs. He also invented a mobile dialysis system for medical applications.
Anyway, because of all of the patents surrounding Kamen there was a cult following about what "It" was. There were rumors going around that it could be anything from a transport device (much like that found on star trek) to a hover board. It ended up being a gyroscopic scooter called the Segway, but for a few weeks I was in geek heaven.
3. The perfect stroke. I'm not talking about golf. I'm talking art. There is such a thing of beauty that is the single perfect line or stroke. It can be the line of a woman's back, or the cut of a horse's eyelid. But the perfect stroke is a thing of beauty, worthy of admiration.
1. The Future. I would call myself a futurist. I read a lot about what is coming soon. It excites me almost to a frenzy.
2. The thought of the impossible becoming, well, possible. Do you remember "It"? It was a under the covers invention that was created by an incredible inventor named Dean Kamen. He invented the iBOT, which is a mechanized wheelchair that climbs obstacles such as stairs. He also invented a mobile dialysis system for medical applications.
Anyway, because of all of the patents surrounding Kamen there was a cult following about what "It" was. There were rumors going around that it could be anything from a transport device (much like that found on star trek) to a hover board. It ended up being a gyroscopic scooter called the Segway, but for a few weeks I was in geek heaven.
3. The perfect stroke. I'm not talking about golf. I'm talking art. There is such a thing of beauty that is the single perfect line or stroke. It can be the line of a woman's back, or the cut of a horse's eyelid. But the perfect stroke is a thing of beauty, worthy of admiration.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Jared's Premise
Okay, I know it is really late, but this shouldn't take too long if you want to do it.
I want everyone to think of something (real or otherwise) that you would define an INCIDENT. Something that you feel you would need to report to someone. Then I want you to write an incident report. Include Who, What, Where, When, Why and How. Also include names: Victim, Witness, Suspect, etc. Bear in mind that reports deal with facts only. Do not DRAW CONCLUSIONS or include OPINIONS. This is not a story but an account written simply and clearly enough that if I were a member of a jury (I use that example to add weight) who was not at the scene, I could still understand what happened. I hope you have fun with this. I am going to make it Courtney's headache to set a due date for this. I hope she can get us back on schedule.
I want everyone to think of something (real or otherwise) that you would define an INCIDENT. Something that you feel you would need to report to someone. Then I want you to write an incident report. Include Who, What, Where, When, Why and How. Also include names: Victim, Witness, Suspect, etc. Bear in mind that reports deal with facts only. Do not DRAW CONCLUSIONS or include OPINIONS. This is not a story but an account written simply and clearly enough that if I were a member of a jury (I use that example to add weight) who was not at the scene, I could still understand what happened. I hope you have fun with this. I am going to make it Courtney's headache to set a due date for this. I hope she can get us back on schedule.
My Three
Okay, I know I am late, but here is a shot at my three favorite things.
NFL Football. I love to watch it on TV and play it on PlayStation 2. Something about grown men beating the crap out of each other makes me happy. It helps me work out my agression.
Guns. I love guns. I want to own more of them. I like to shoot, I like to watch other people shoot, I like to hear stories about shooting. I just love guns! Plus, the smell of the gunpowder is nice.
And I like to pay bills. This may fall too close to the money thing, if so then I am sorry. It isn't that I like having bills, I just like getting them paid and putting them out of my mind. Granted I need help with them all too often, but I would rather be able to pay my bills than not have them because I cannot afford them.
I hope that is what you were looking for!
NFL Football. I love to watch it on TV and play it on PlayStation 2. Something about grown men beating the crap out of each other makes me happy. It helps me work out my agression.
Guns. I love guns. I want to own more of them. I like to shoot, I like to watch other people shoot, I like to hear stories about shooting. I just love guns! Plus, the smell of the gunpowder is nice.
And I like to pay bills. This may fall too close to the money thing, if so then I am sorry. It isn't that I like having bills, I just like getting them paid and putting them out of my mind. Granted I need help with them all too often, but I would rather be able to pay my bills than not have them because I cannot afford them.
I hope that is what you were looking for!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
The Three Knights
The night was dark and still. Barbie’s “supplier” had just left after delivering her “recreational” provisions. As Barbie placed the small colorful scrap of paper on her tongue, she prepared to be whisked away to “Fairytopia”…
Okay, I am kidding. Let’s start again.
As the night wore on, Barbie found herself lying restlessly, her mind racing through silly trivial thoughts. She wanted so badly to turn it all off and go to sleep, but alas, it would not work. Finally she gave up and decided to go for a walk down the little forest trail that she had used since she was a small girl. Just outside the Castle gate, she picked up the path and began to wind through the trees toward the stream where she used to spend her days swimming and sunbathing. She remembered how simple life was then. No worries, no deadlines, just being a kid and having fun. She longed for those days again. Barbie found herself sitting next to the water looking at her reflection.
In the morning, Ken woke up to find that his beloved Barbie was gone. He looked all around the Castle, and asked all of the staff that worked there, but no one had seen her. Ken began to worry. He called all of his knights together and told them to scour the surrounding land and find his love. Hour after hour crept by, but still no word. One knight went to the cave that was said to be home to a dragon of immense size. Cautiously he made his way inside quietly looking for the lost damsel. Another knight found himself staring at the bridge that no one was brave enough to cross for stories of the troll that kidnapped and tortured anyone who dare try to pass. Yet another knight found himself at the seashore where stories of monsters had originated. Each of the brave knights swallowed his fear and began the dangerous trek across his obstacle to find Ken’s wife who the entire kingdom adored. Any one of the knights would lay down his life to save Barbie.
As the sun crept higher into the sky and the day neared the noon hour, Barbie awoke. She had crawled under a fallen tree and slept, finally, only to stir late in the day. After a moment, she realized that Ken would worry about her. She quickly began the trek home.
Upon arrival at the Castle, Barbie ran into the three knights who returned at the same time from their adventures. She listened as each one told their story.
“I was nervous about going into that cave, but I knew that Barbie might be in there, so I had to go. About five steps in I heard a great roar. It scared me to death. But I pressed on. Then, about thirty paces into the cave, I found a small pool of water. The melting snowcaps from the mountain feed that pool, and every few seconds, another rush of water causes a loud crashing wave in the pool. There is no dragon, just his roar!”
“Well, I found myself at that troll bridge. People have reported actually seeing the troll and running away before it could catch them. I too had no choice but to overcome my fear and cross the bridge looking for Barbie. About halfway across the bridge, I saw the troll moving up the bank of the river below me. I drew my sword, and the troll stopped. I called out a warning, but the troll just stayed in the same place watching me. Finally I made my way to the troll, and found that it wasn’t a troll at all. It was just an old thorn bush that had a discarded cloak tangled up in it. It looked real enough, but I guess that is what happens when no one is brave enough to take a closer look.”
“Well, I found myself at the coast of the great sea thinking about the monster that has terrorized the coast for years. There was no boat big enough to provide safety, but I had to go out anyway to look for Barbie. So I climbed into a small rowboat and began paddling into the open water. I was about a thousand yards off the coast when the water around me began to boil. My heart raced, and I drew my sword not knowing what I was about to encounter. The water became more violent with each passing moment. Just as I thought the boat would sink into the whirlpool that was being created, a school of dolphins surfaced and began swimming all around me. Back and forth, jumping over the bow of my boat. I couldn’t believe my eyes. With a school of dolphins that large, nothing dangerous could possibly reside in that part of the ocean. The stories of the hideous sea creatures must have been sailors who were frightened by the playful dolphins.”
“I am sorry I caused you so much trouble,” Barbie said to the three knights, “but at least we finally know the secrets of our land, and can begin to feel safe with our surroundings. Next time, I will leave Ken a note so that he knows where to look for me.”
The End
Barbie's Dark Night
Barbie slid down the tree and landed squarely on her feet. That was easy enough. She then turned and headed down the street. Where was she headed? Her friend Jan's cast;e? That sounded like a good idea. It was far, she thought. But she carried on anyway.
As she got further and further away from her castle she realized that it was quite scary out side on a strange street without anyone else with her. Things looked so different at night. She could hear noises, but she didn't know what they were.
Just then a stranger rode up next to her on a giant horse.
"My lady. What art tho doing outside of the castle walls on an eve such as this?" The man asked. He had such a gravely voice. It really scared Barbie. She didn't know what to do. She knew her mommy and daddy had told her never to talk to strangers. But they weren't there now, were they?
"Waiting upon my gaurdsmen, Sir."
"Lass, I am affraid your are alone!" The man leaned down and smiled a crooked smile.
Barbie did what she had been told. She turned and began to run. She ran as hard and as fast as she could until she got back to the castle gate. There were her mommy and daddy frantically looking for her and calling her name. They were so glad to find her!
Barbie would never sneak out of the castle again!
As she got further and further away from her castle she realized that it was quite scary out side on a strange street without anyone else with her. Things looked so different at night. She could hear noises, but she didn't know what they were.
Just then a stranger rode up next to her on a giant horse.
"My lady. What art tho doing outside of the castle walls on an eve such as this?" The man asked. He had such a gravely voice. It really scared Barbie. She didn't know what to do. She knew her mommy and daddy had told her never to talk to strangers. But they weren't there now, were they?
"Waiting upon my gaurdsmen, Sir."
"Lass, I am affraid your are alone!" The man leaned down and smiled a crooked smile.
Barbie did what she had been told. She turned and began to run. She ran as hard and as fast as she could until she got back to the castle gate. There were her mommy and daddy frantically looking for her and calling her name. They were so glad to find her!
Barbie would never sneak out of the castle again!
Friday, June 09, 2006
Taste Great! Less Filling!
The grass is greener... greener... green...gr.
I believe that sometimes this is true. Think about it. Your fenced it. There's grass over there with no one else gnawing on it. It's just sitting there soaking up the sun, glistening with the morning's cold dew. Just beckoning you, "Hey, I'm greener. No other cows over there to poop on me! You want to eat me!"
So, you practice your cow-quando and hurdle the fence. Then the ranch hand comes after you with that darned horse who calls himself, "The King", and that rope of his. He chases you down the fence line until you realize that if you turn off to the right, away from that horrid fence, then you just might be able to shake him. It's worth a try. Besides that there's a nasty looking corner of the barbed wire headed right for your beautiful snout. So you do it.
A hard right turn and you duck under the snarl of the thorny brush and into the creek bed. You pause just for a second to glance to your left and right. Which way? Just then the rope of the cowboy glances off your right horn. Good thing he's not a good shot, huh?
So you decide to go straight. It might be difficult for his majesty to haul that fat butt poke up the other side, but you can slip through, you and your slim figure. So as you crest the other side of the creek you can hear the painful screams of the lost rider and the horse appears alone. You stare him down thinking, you can take him. This equestrian wuss. He's not even that much bigger than you. You duck your head and begin to fling the earth into a fine mist about you as you prepare to challenge the other other red meat.
Just then the stupid human emerges yelling all sorts of profanity as he is trying ever so hard to gather himself and his rope. He sees you and you see him. Change of plan. If it were just the horse, no problem. But this dope is just too much trouble. So you pivot ever so gracefully to your right and head the other direction.
Since you are somewhat wider than the given trail it becomes more and more painful as the native nasty thorns try their best to tear at your hips. Ahh, those wide hips. You wish you had joined the cow-yoga class earlier this spring now. You duck and scramble, but you can hear the thud, thud, thud of the mounted one behind you. You wind and work your way through the brush, crossing creek after creek until you see a break in the wood. Your thinking this is it! This must be somewhere I can really cut loose and get away from this guy!
As you clear the shrubs you are presented with a different obstacle: another barbed wire fence. You don't even have time to think about it. Your training takes over and you vault your girth upward and over the fence, just clearing it. But your follower was not as lucky. That's what he should go by, not "The King", but "Lucky". The horse managed to stop, but when he did the rider didn't. He comes flailing at you like a shot duck. Just as he is about to hit you, you move and he lands right in a pile of...
Wait a minute. This place looks all to familiar. "Oh crud! I'm back in my pasture! Well, I guess it wasn't worth it after all!" So, you just mosey over to your friends who are now staring at you in utter disbelief as you waltz up and begin to eat the ever so sweet green-gray grass...on your side of the fence.
I believe that sometimes this is true. Think about it. Your fenced it. There's grass over there with no one else gnawing on it. It's just sitting there soaking up the sun, glistening with the morning's cold dew. Just beckoning you, "Hey, I'm greener. No other cows over there to poop on me! You want to eat me!"
So, you practice your cow-quando and hurdle the fence. Then the ranch hand comes after you with that darned horse who calls himself, "The King", and that rope of his. He chases you down the fence line until you realize that if you turn off to the right, away from that horrid fence, then you just might be able to shake him. It's worth a try. Besides that there's a nasty looking corner of the barbed wire headed right for your beautiful snout. So you do it.
A hard right turn and you duck under the snarl of the thorny brush and into the creek bed. You pause just for a second to glance to your left and right. Which way? Just then the rope of the cowboy glances off your right horn. Good thing he's not a good shot, huh?
So you decide to go straight. It might be difficult for his majesty to haul that fat butt poke up the other side, but you can slip through, you and your slim figure. So as you crest the other side of the creek you can hear the painful screams of the lost rider and the horse appears alone. You stare him down thinking, you can take him. This equestrian wuss. He's not even that much bigger than you. You duck your head and begin to fling the earth into a fine mist about you as you prepare to challenge the other other red meat.
Just then the stupid human emerges yelling all sorts of profanity as he is trying ever so hard to gather himself and his rope. He sees you and you see him. Change of plan. If it were just the horse, no problem. But this dope is just too much trouble. So you pivot ever so gracefully to your right and head the other direction.
Since you are somewhat wider than the given trail it becomes more and more painful as the native nasty thorns try their best to tear at your hips. Ahh, those wide hips. You wish you had joined the cow-yoga class earlier this spring now. You duck and scramble, but you can hear the thud, thud, thud of the mounted one behind you. You wind and work your way through the brush, crossing creek after creek until you see a break in the wood. Your thinking this is it! This must be somewhere I can really cut loose and get away from this guy!
As you clear the shrubs you are presented with a different obstacle: another barbed wire fence. You don't even have time to think about it. Your training takes over and you vault your girth upward and over the fence, just clearing it. But your follower was not as lucky. That's what he should go by, not "The King", but "Lucky". The horse managed to stop, but when he did the rider didn't. He comes flailing at you like a shot duck. Just as he is about to hit you, you move and he lands right in a pile of...
Wait a minute. This place looks all to familiar. "Oh crud! I'm back in my pasture! Well, I guess it wasn't worth it after all!" So, you just mosey over to your friends who are now staring at you in utter disbelief as you waltz up and begin to eat the ever so sweet green-gray grass...on your side of the fence.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Stream 2
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I’ve heard that all my life. Thing is, I have never crossed the fence. I have seen what lies on the other side, and wanted it. Sure I know that the odds are that once I get it, it won’t be what I thought. I still wouldn’t know. It is an odd saying though if you think about it. Where did it originate? What person decided that the particular hue of color on the other side of the fence mattered? Why is it even considered a viable cliché? Am I now being compared to a cow? They don’t care how green the grass is, and they are dumb. If I am to look at the world as a cow, then I have larger problems than how green some grass is. I need to break away from the herd. Move in my own circle. March to the beat of a different drummer. Now there is a good militant cliché. It makes sense, and it instills a sense of order. That is what I am looking for. Someone who believes in order. I hate open ended “hey you” practices. Plot and plan what you are going to do. Spontaneity is inefficient. It may work sometimes, but deadlines cannot exist without order.
Okay, that is my ten minutes. What now?
Okay, that is my ten minutes. What now?
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Premise: Haiku
Our Premise in Spring
Would be of the Haiku way
So tap your keyboard
That's right! A Haiku. A Haiku is the simplest of literary forms. It follows a fairly strict pattern, the first line has 5 syllables , the second has 7 and the third, again, 5. Haiku's can normally be about anything, but ours will be about fear.
If you need more info on Haiku's, please check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiku.
Would be of the Haiku way
So tap your keyboard
That's right! A Haiku. A Haiku is the simplest of literary forms. It follows a fairly strict pattern, the first line has 5 syllables , the second has 7 and the third, again, 5. Haiku's can normally be about anything, but ours will be about fear.
If you need more info on Haiku's, please check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiku.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
The Architect
My earliest memories were filled with being able to design and build things. When I was about eight or nine I took a bunch of scrap wood and built a bridge in my grandparents backyard in Odessa, Texas. I always knew I wanted to be an Architect. But apparently I didn't understand back then exactly what type I wanted to be.
When I was growing up I took all the drafting and building classes I could. But then I was side-tracked for several years chasing art, which is still a passion of mine. But somehow I got into programming. Over the years I have found that I am rather good at it. I have a very logical mind. I have always had a deep interest in tearing things apart and discovering how they work. As a software developer, I get to build things. As a Software Architect I would get to design entire systems.
A Software Architect and a Building Architect share quite a few similarities. You are responsible for the entire project. It's success, or failure, relies on how good your design is. You must manage a throng of people and make sure that your plan is carried out to the fullest. You must be well read and well practiced. You must understand the latest techniques in your trade, better than anyone else around you.
So how can I get there? I'm already on my way. It's been, and will continue to be, a long and difficult journey. There are projects that I have worked on that have consumed over one hundred hours per week of my time. There have been times when I was afraid I would crack under the tremendous pressure.
Several years ago I was responsible for converting my companies entire suite of web applications from Tango to Active Server Pages, two completely different technologies. It was a more difficult task because of the fact that I was not brought into the project until the very last moment. I was given two months to do so, which was impossible. I feverishly worked around the clock while my very pregnant wife sat at home by herself in a town three hundred miles away from her family. There was a two week period toward the end where I did not see her at all. Not because she had gone somewhere else, but because I would work until long after she had gone to bed, and then get up long before she would. She, of course, was furious with me. So the launch deadline came and everyone in the company was very excited about it. Our web site had five thousand dedicated daily users from around the world. Our site would now support five languages. And it would be more performant than ever before. We had a lot riding on it. I had a lot riding on it. So, when the night came we were to launch I had the VP of Marketing in my office as well as my boss who was the Director of IT. There were also ten others waiting in my office, champaign in hand. We launched, everything broke. Ouch. I spent the next two sleepless days fixing everything, and it all ended up fine. But can you imagine the stress.
So in my career I have often encountered several instances of stress like that. But what I learned over the years is that you benefit greatly by having an architect on the project. An architect could have dealt with marketing and let them know that they were wrong in not letting me know ahead of time. He could have designed the bugs out of my systems before I coded them. That's what I want to be some day.
So, what are my next steps? What does it take to be an architect? There are two paths, both of which take a tremendous amount of time. You can either go the scholastic route, earning your Masters or PhD in Computer Science. You then still have to work in the field, first as a developer then working your way up. Or you can choose the path that I inadvertently have. You step into the field and work your way through. You do all the jobs that no one else can or will and you put in your hours. You take your lumps and learn from them.
My current boss has been a Software Architect for many years. He's been in software development for over twenty five years. He told me that I was on the cusp of being an architect. I just had a few things to work on, Most of which are my project management skills. Microsoft has an architecture program which I want to get into. But the requirements are that you be in software development for at least ten years. You must also be in a valid architecture role for at least three years. And you must have a certified architect nominate you. After your nomination you must write a thesis paper and defend it before a panel of ten other architects in a week long process in Redman, Washington. You must also pass numerous tests and hold several certifications. You must also have published several papers in industry leading publications. Like I said, it's a long and difficult journey. But one worth doing.
So what do I have left? Well, I have been in software development for eight years. I have no certifications, although I have ordered a set of training material to prepare my slept for the first round of exams and certifications. I have a software architect, in my boss, that is training me for an architect role. Just a few more years.
When I was growing up I took all the drafting and building classes I could. But then I was side-tracked for several years chasing art, which is still a passion of mine. But somehow I got into programming. Over the years I have found that I am rather good at it. I have a very logical mind. I have always had a deep interest in tearing things apart and discovering how they work. As a software developer, I get to build things. As a Software Architect I would get to design entire systems.
A Software Architect and a Building Architect share quite a few similarities. You are responsible for the entire project. It's success, or failure, relies on how good your design is. You must manage a throng of people and make sure that your plan is carried out to the fullest. You must be well read and well practiced. You must understand the latest techniques in your trade, better than anyone else around you.
So how can I get there? I'm already on my way. It's been, and will continue to be, a long and difficult journey. There are projects that I have worked on that have consumed over one hundred hours per week of my time. There have been times when I was afraid I would crack under the tremendous pressure.
Several years ago I was responsible for converting my companies entire suite of web applications from Tango to Active Server Pages, two completely different technologies. It was a more difficult task because of the fact that I was not brought into the project until the very last moment. I was given two months to do so, which was impossible. I feverishly worked around the clock while my very pregnant wife sat at home by herself in a town three hundred miles away from her family. There was a two week period toward the end where I did not see her at all. Not because she had gone somewhere else, but because I would work until long after she had gone to bed, and then get up long before she would. She, of course, was furious with me. So the launch deadline came and everyone in the company was very excited about it. Our web site had five thousand dedicated daily users from around the world. Our site would now support five languages. And it would be more performant than ever before. We had a lot riding on it. I had a lot riding on it. So, when the night came we were to launch I had the VP of Marketing in my office as well as my boss who was the Director of IT. There were also ten others waiting in my office, champaign in hand. We launched, everything broke. Ouch. I spent the next two sleepless days fixing everything, and it all ended up fine. But can you imagine the stress.
So in my career I have often encountered several instances of stress like that. But what I learned over the years is that you benefit greatly by having an architect on the project. An architect could have dealt with marketing and let them know that they were wrong in not letting me know ahead of time. He could have designed the bugs out of my systems before I coded them. That's what I want to be some day.
So, what are my next steps? What does it take to be an architect? There are two paths, both of which take a tremendous amount of time. You can either go the scholastic route, earning your Masters or PhD in Computer Science. You then still have to work in the field, first as a developer then working your way up. Or you can choose the path that I inadvertently have. You step into the field and work your way through. You do all the jobs that no one else can or will and you put in your hours. You take your lumps and learn from them.
My current boss has been a Software Architect for many years. He's been in software development for over twenty five years. He told me that I was on the cusp of being an architect. I just had a few things to work on, Most of which are my project management skills. Microsoft has an architecture program which I want to get into. But the requirements are that you be in software development for at least ten years. You must also be in a valid architecture role for at least three years. And you must have a certified architect nominate you. After your nomination you must write a thesis paper and defend it before a panel of ten other architects in a week long process in Redman, Washington. You must also pass numerous tests and hold several certifications. You must also have published several papers in industry leading publications. Like I said, it's a long and difficult journey. But one worth doing.
So what do I have left? Well, I have been in software development for eight years. I have no certifications, although I have ordered a set of training material to prepare my slept for the first round of exams and certifications. I have a software architect, in my boss, that is training me for an architect role. Just a few more years.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Better late than never - Clean's stream
Procrastination, that pretty much sums me up. I need to act faster. Be on the ball. I’m tired. 0430 – God doesn’t even turn the sun on until 0700. Nothing in my mind. I am not sure if this works with someone like me. I can’t just let my mind wonder. I always end up trying to tell a story. Whether something that happened in my past, or making something up. See, I am doing it now. Logan is awake. He wakes up slow like I do. Don’t mess with him when he first wakes. He will scream at you…much like me. I wonder if coffee would help. I am sure that he would like it. I don’t know if I would like him on it. He is energetic enough without it. I wish I had his energy. I need to start working out. I am tried of being pudgy. I don’t know where to go with this anymore. I don’t have any thoughts in my head. Well, I guess that isn’t true. I must have thoughts if I am writing. What would it be like if I truly had no thought. I think Brian is home. Logan needs a new diaper. He is pretty soggy. Five more minutes. Who came up with time? I don’t mean who created it, but who decided how long a second is? Why are there 60 of them in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, but 24 hours in a day? Didn’t these people know about standardization? And why do we have an extra day every fourth year? That is just lack of proper math. If they had taken more time with the equation, I am sure that there would have been another way to incorporate that day. Add another minute to each day, or a second. Would that work? Is leap year the only way? How did I get here? “This is not my beautiful wife!” That was a fun song. The Talking Heads…great name. Well, that is my 15. This makes no sense.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Brian's Stream
I sit in my cave, my view of the world tainted by the metallic shades slanted open ever so slightly that the sunlight may make its way in. I wonder how this weekend will go. I don't really want to work today, but I will. I have to completely change the way the organizer works. I hear voices outside my door. I hope they don't interrupt this. I like writing. Courtney makes fun of me all the time because of my spelling and grammer, or lack there of. I like writing. I think it gives me another creative outlet that I had not explored before, not to this extent. I wonder if the way I write is the way I draw or paint. I have always been a big picture person. You know, where I like to see the over all end result instead of worrying over the little details. I like to paint too. I wish I had more time to do so.
Thought number 20. I like the fact that I can listen to music while I work. People think I'm nuts. I don't know why but I can get in a better "groove" if I have some music in the back ground. I think its because of its rythm. The pulsating beats as the words drip over them. I can think in that same beat. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3. write a line of code with the key strokes following the very pulsating instant gratification of the music. Its soothing. Its calming. I like to lay my head back in my chair. I wish it were colder in here. Its hot.
Thought number 40. I don't know if I am doing this right or not. Back to programming. Its something about the music. I like being alone and programming. People bug me too much. It breaks my flow. In the flow. I should put that on my door. When I get interrupted it takes too much time to get back in the flow. The flow is important to programmers you know? The flow is what good code comes from. Creative code. Ideas that would not manafest themselves other wise. I wish I would have an original thought. Maybe I am too hard on my self. If life like were only like a video game. Where I could get to certain stages... and then hit save. That way, when I screwed up I could just go back and start from the part that I was right on.
Thought number 60. I can't wait to get to the next level of ubiquitous programming. Programming models where stuff just works. I can't wait to the next boom really happens. Its so weird knowing that we are about to hit another revolution and the world seems not to know. I know so many people that are living like its 1999 and I can feel 2020 closing in. I wonder what people will think when we have things like self controled cars that can freely operate on a highway, warn you when issues arrive, or take care of them itself. I wonder what people will think when they can infact talk to their computer that can seemingly make its own judgments about what you ask for. Not just do what you asked for. It's strange thinking of it in those terms though.
Thought number 80. I don't know if it will be right. I mean, if a computer really acted like it had artificial intelegence then it could make the consious decision to act on, or not, what you have requested. Imagine, "Computer, please pull up Google search." Computer, "Not really feeling like doing that right now. Watching the news. Please check back in 10 minutes." ouch. That would be frustrating. There would have to be some rules. Like children. It could be smart, but only like a smart child that was to do everything I ordered it, or it might get grounded. And have the TV taken away. But if stuff just worked, that would be great. I can't wait. People don't know how close we are yet. There is so much user experience revolution going on right now. Computers sucked back in the 90's. Yeah, I said it. Those of us who wrote software, we didn't take the time.
Thought number 100. I can't wait. Cars will soon under go such a revolution. The convergance of computers and cars is taking place right now. I don't know if my friends or family know it or not, but soon they will be able to interact with their cars like no body's business. We will have a complete convergance of Internet communication bringing applications into the cars that are just out of this world. You'll be able to tell your car the restaraunt you want to go to. Your car will confirm, "You mean the one on Lemmon and 32nd?" "Yes" "Ok, sit back and relax and we'll be there in 13 minutes and 45 seconds." This is what I've been waiting for. I'm disappointed that it is taking so long. I wish it would have happened 10 years ago. I can remember when the famous "IT" came out a few years ago. I was soo pumped. I was hoping for a floating transpertation device, or a teletransporter all together. It spawned discussions with Courtney about what we would do if we could get anywhere in the world within seconds. I was sooo jived. But then they came out with the scooter. I was crushed. I had to go back to work.
Last thought. And then I heard how teleporting would actually have to work. Its like this: A computer takes a scan of every atom, and the state of every atom in your body. Then it recreates it somewhere else and ultimately destroys the original. So, effectively it would have to clone you each and every time. That's where our current technology is. But, wait a second. Why? The information that passes through a computer is nothing more than atoms anyway. At least in Quantum computing. So, if that were the case, then why could you not pass the originals down the same transportation mechanism? Wireless, ethernet so on. So, if that happened then you could reach up and snatch a little piece of someone out of the air!!!! Strange.
Thought number 20. I like the fact that I can listen to music while I work. People think I'm nuts. I don't know why but I can get in a better "groove" if I have some music in the back ground. I think its because of its rythm. The pulsating beats as the words drip over them. I can think in that same beat. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3. write a line of code with the key strokes following the very pulsating instant gratification of the music. Its soothing. Its calming. I like to lay my head back in my chair. I wish it were colder in here. Its hot.
Thought number 40. I don't know if I am doing this right or not. Back to programming. Its something about the music. I like being alone and programming. People bug me too much. It breaks my flow. In the flow. I should put that on my door. When I get interrupted it takes too much time to get back in the flow. The flow is important to programmers you know? The flow is what good code comes from. Creative code. Ideas that would not manafest themselves other wise. I wish I would have an original thought. Maybe I am too hard on my self. If life like were only like a video game. Where I could get to certain stages... and then hit save. That way, when I screwed up I could just go back and start from the part that I was right on.
Thought number 60. I can't wait to get to the next level of ubiquitous programming. Programming models where stuff just works. I can't wait to the next boom really happens. Its so weird knowing that we are about to hit another revolution and the world seems not to know. I know so many people that are living like its 1999 and I can feel 2020 closing in. I wonder what people will think when we have things like self controled cars that can freely operate on a highway, warn you when issues arrive, or take care of them itself. I wonder what people will think when they can infact talk to their computer that can seemingly make its own judgments about what you ask for. Not just do what you asked for. It's strange thinking of it in those terms though.
Thought number 80. I don't know if it will be right. I mean, if a computer really acted like it had artificial intelegence then it could make the consious decision to act on, or not, what you have requested. Imagine, "Computer, please pull up Google search." Computer, "Not really feeling like doing that right now. Watching the news. Please check back in 10 minutes." ouch. That would be frustrating. There would have to be some rules. Like children. It could be smart, but only like a smart child that was to do everything I ordered it, or it might get grounded. And have the TV taken away. But if stuff just worked, that would be great. I can't wait. People don't know how close we are yet. There is so much user experience revolution going on right now. Computers sucked back in the 90's. Yeah, I said it. Those of us who wrote software, we didn't take the time.
Thought number 100. I can't wait. Cars will soon under go such a revolution. The convergance of computers and cars is taking place right now. I don't know if my friends or family know it or not, but soon they will be able to interact with their cars like no body's business. We will have a complete convergance of Internet communication bringing applications into the cars that are just out of this world. You'll be able to tell your car the restaraunt you want to go to. Your car will confirm, "You mean the one on Lemmon and 32nd?" "Yes" "Ok, sit back and relax and we'll be there in 13 minutes and 45 seconds." This is what I've been waiting for. I'm disappointed that it is taking so long. I wish it would have happened 10 years ago. I can remember when the famous "IT" came out a few years ago. I was soo pumped. I was hoping for a floating transpertation device, or a teletransporter all together. It spawned discussions with Courtney about what we would do if we could get anywhere in the world within seconds. I was sooo jived. But then they came out with the scooter. I was crushed. I had to go back to work.
Last thought. And then I heard how teleporting would actually have to work. Its like this: A computer takes a scan of every atom, and the state of every atom in your body. Then it recreates it somewhere else and ultimately destroys the original. So, effectively it would have to clone you each and every time. That's where our current technology is. But, wait a second. Why? The information that passes through a computer is nothing more than atoms anyway. At least in Quantum computing. So, if that were the case, then why could you not pass the originals down the same transportation mechanism? Wireless, ethernet so on. So, if that happened then you could reach up and snatch a little piece of someone out of the air!!!! Strange.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
The Red Cross
"What the" Maxwell exhaled. His most prized possession was no more. He grated his teeth as he glared in the now cavernous container that once held the Royal Scepter with the Red Cross. He had risked his life for it, and not to turn it over to another admirer, but to keep it as his own. It might have brought him millions on the black market, but this was, excuse the pun, his crown jewel.
But who could have pulled this off? There was only one person in this world that knew Maxwell even had the scepter for sure. That was Mortimer Franks, but Maxwell couldn't imagine Mortimer having taken it. One key attribute you need as a career thief is the ability to read people. You have to know who to trust and who to bring into your inner circle.
Another thief. It had to be. But that would mean that Mortimer had leaked some information to someone. He had been visiting his local pub quite often lately. I wonder if he had become too drunk one evening and relinquished a few too many secrets. Maxwell would have to ask at dinner tonight.
"Maxwell, how are you?" Mortimer asked as he strutted across the grand dining room floor to clasp the hand of his most precious friend.
"Just fine, Mortimer. And yourself?" Maxwell responded as he intensely studied Mortimer for any sign of a weakness. Maxwell could tell if someone was being untruthful if they continuously looked down and to the left. Also, a bead of sweat might dissolve his cover.
"Fine, fine! I have some new information for you, on that diamond exhibition in New York next week. The India Blue will be on display there. And we already have bidders lined up for it. I say, this could be a big one. I have it on good word that the diamond is over 100 carets!" Mortimers eyes glistened with excitement.
"Oh yes, one more thing dear friend. I received the strangest call this afternoon. Someone named Julia. She said she needs to speak to you, an utmost urgency she said. I am afraid I do not recall anyone named Julia. A new acquaintance perhaps?" asked Mortimer.
A steel look eclipsed Maxwell's face. "Julia" he thought. He hasn't heard from her in years.
"Mortimer, how long have we known each other?" Maxwell asked.
"Going on ten years now, Sir."
"Have I ever told you about Julia?" asked Maxwell.
"No Sir."
Maxwell and Mortimer sat at the dinner table as Maxwell excused the wait staff.
"She's my daughter. You see, Mortimer, I was married when I was very young. I divorced my first wife when I decided to do what I now do on a more permanent basis. It's not the kind of thing you want to do while having a family, you know."
"Wait a minute," Maxwell thought. He probed his vast memory for any inkling of ever showing Julia where he stored his bounty. "Stop." Maxwell reprimanded himself. "Its your daughter. How can you think of such a thing?"
"Sir?" Mortimer queried his long time friend.
Maxwell snapped back into reality, "Oh yes, sorry. Anyway, her mother moved them to Paris. I haven't seen or heard anything from the two since Julia was twelve. Did she say what she wanted?"
"No sir, but she did seem somewhat frantic, despondent. I have her number written down on your desk pad in the study."
"I must speak to her now. I hope all is well." Maxwell said as he rose from his untouched meal and proceeded to the study.
"Hello?" The voice on the other line sounded weak and weary.
"Julia, it's Father. Is everything alright?" Maxwell responded.
"Yes, well, uhm. No, actually. Mother has passed. I'm sorry I did not call you sooner, but she has been dealing with cancer for the last six months. She had been diagnosed in September and it went badly for her. She died last night. I'm sorry I haven't called, but it was her wish that you did not know." July had begun to weep.
"Julia, darling. I'm very sorry. Please come to London and visit. Are you still receiving the payments I send?" Maxwell asked.
"Yes Father. We do so appreciate them. I'm sorry I haven't contacted you myself. I've been seeing a therapist and trying to work through my issues with you. But I thought you should now about Mother."
Maxwell could feel the lump in his throat rise. "Julia, please do come and stay with me. You can stay in your old room."
"Yes Father."
Two days later Maxwell was in London eating at an outside eatery with his female companion of two years, Beth Holland. Maxwell had Beth's background checked and doublechecked. She was a school teacher from West London and was every bit as innocent and sweet as she looked.
"More tea darling?" asked Maxwell.
"Yes dear." replied Beth as she bit off the end of another cookie. She was, as usual, buried in her books. She did not know of Maxwell's craft, as well she shouldn't. He learned his lesson the first go around.
Beth finally broke away from the novel her nose had become acquainted with to ask, "about this weekend dear, are you going to be able to make it to the Shires? Remember, they've invited us to their dinner party in the country?"
Maxwell hated being coy, but knew it was best. "Not this weekend dear. I've got an appointment with a new broker in New York. I must meet with him this weekend, otherwise he won't be available until the end of the summer.
Just then an erie feeling came over Maxwell. He knew who was standing over his shoulder by the shadow that his rather large fedora cast.
"Good day Mr. Galloway. And may I ask, who is your lovely friend?" Captain Vince Van Haught slyly asked.
"Good afternoon dear Captain. What a lovely surprise it is to see you. What can I assist you with today?" Maxwell skillfully avoided introducing Beth to the Captain. He always thought it would be better if the two had never met.
"Beth Holland"
"Ugh." Maxwell sighed under his breath.
"How very nice to meet you, madam" the Captain said as he reached to gently kiss the extended hand of Ms. Holland.
"How are things in the yard?" Maxwell asked, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Splendid, splendid indeed. In fact, I am taking an early retirement. Had a relative pass away recently, left me a great deal of money. Much more than the pension from the Yard, I must say."
"That is great news. I will miss your expertise however. We need brains like yours to keep my trade business safe from scallions." Maxwell said again trying to divert.
"Indeed. Indeed. Well, I must be off. Enjoy your tea. Good day madam." The Captain tipped that enormous hat of his as he walked off.
"Nice chap!" Beth said, again burying her nose in her book.
Later that night Maxwell was watching television in the den when news broke.
"This just in. Honored Captain in Scotland Yard has been arrested in possession of an article of the Crown Jewels stolen last summer. According to the Yard spokesperson, he was arrested while trying to sell the item on the black market, to undercover agents! He was caught with a woman thought to be his accomplice. "
Maxwell gasped. He stared at the television in disbelief. Then he screamed at the top of his lungs for his assistant, "Mortimer!"
"Yes Sir?" Mortimer managed to get out, short of breath from the dash to the den.
"Mortimer, do you see this?"
"What the bloody hell?" Mortimer murmured as he slowly made his way to the television.
"That conniving little. Sir, it's Beth!" Mortimer managed to finally get out, still having his eyes glued to the set, watching Beth get out of the car in hand cuffs.
"Mortimer, you'd better tell me what's going on."
"Sir, I am deeply sorry. Beth and I, well Sir, as so I thought, had developed a, well a friendship of sorts. She kept flirting with me, and well Sir, I must say that I enjoyed it."
"Mortimer, please tell me you didn't show her the false wall!" Maxwell said as his face turned bright red.
"Yes Sir, I actually did. But I laughed at her when last week she made a comment about how funny it would be if someone less obvious had stolen from you, one of the greatest thieves of all time."
"She knew?" Maxwell asked, a tear developing in his eyes.
"Yes Sir. I guess I was blind to it Sir. She and the Captain must have been in together on this the entire time."
Maxwell relaxed back into his chair. How bitter sweet it was. Beth, whom he loved but was considering breaking off his relationship with and the Captain, who had been on his heels for five years were now out of his life. For quite a long while. Pitty it all had to happen at the expense of his greatest prize ever captured, the Royal Specter with the Red Cross.
But who could have pulled this off? There was only one person in this world that knew Maxwell even had the scepter for sure. That was Mortimer Franks, but Maxwell couldn't imagine Mortimer having taken it. One key attribute you need as a career thief is the ability to read people. You have to know who to trust and who to bring into your inner circle.
Another thief. It had to be. But that would mean that Mortimer had leaked some information to someone. He had been visiting his local pub quite often lately. I wonder if he had become too drunk one evening and relinquished a few too many secrets. Maxwell would have to ask at dinner tonight.
"Maxwell, how are you?" Mortimer asked as he strutted across the grand dining room floor to clasp the hand of his most precious friend.
"Just fine, Mortimer. And yourself?" Maxwell responded as he intensely studied Mortimer for any sign of a weakness. Maxwell could tell if someone was being untruthful if they continuously looked down and to the left. Also, a bead of sweat might dissolve his cover.
"Fine, fine! I have some new information for you, on that diamond exhibition in New York next week. The India Blue will be on display there. And we already have bidders lined up for it. I say, this could be a big one. I have it on good word that the diamond is over 100 carets!" Mortimers eyes glistened with excitement.
"Oh yes, one more thing dear friend. I received the strangest call this afternoon. Someone named Julia. She said she needs to speak to you, an utmost urgency she said. I am afraid I do not recall anyone named Julia. A new acquaintance perhaps?" asked Mortimer.
A steel look eclipsed Maxwell's face. "Julia" he thought. He hasn't heard from her in years.
"Mortimer, how long have we known each other?" Maxwell asked.
"Going on ten years now, Sir."
"Have I ever told you about Julia?" asked Maxwell.
"No Sir."
Maxwell and Mortimer sat at the dinner table as Maxwell excused the wait staff.
"She's my daughter. You see, Mortimer, I was married when I was very young. I divorced my first wife when I decided to do what I now do on a more permanent basis. It's not the kind of thing you want to do while having a family, you know."
"Wait a minute," Maxwell thought. He probed his vast memory for any inkling of ever showing Julia where he stored his bounty. "Stop." Maxwell reprimanded himself. "Its your daughter. How can you think of such a thing?"
"Sir?" Mortimer queried his long time friend.
Maxwell snapped back into reality, "Oh yes, sorry. Anyway, her mother moved them to Paris. I haven't seen or heard anything from the two since Julia was twelve. Did she say what she wanted?"
"No sir, but she did seem somewhat frantic, despondent. I have her number written down on your desk pad in the study."
"I must speak to her now. I hope all is well." Maxwell said as he rose from his untouched meal and proceeded to the study.
"Hello?" The voice on the other line sounded weak and weary.
"Julia, it's Father. Is everything alright?" Maxwell responded.
"Yes, well, uhm. No, actually. Mother has passed. I'm sorry I did not call you sooner, but she has been dealing with cancer for the last six months. She had been diagnosed in September and it went badly for her. She died last night. I'm sorry I haven't called, but it was her wish that you did not know." July had begun to weep.
"Julia, darling. I'm very sorry. Please come to London and visit. Are you still receiving the payments I send?" Maxwell asked.
"Yes Father. We do so appreciate them. I'm sorry I haven't contacted you myself. I've been seeing a therapist and trying to work through my issues with you. But I thought you should now about Mother."
Maxwell could feel the lump in his throat rise. "Julia, please do come and stay with me. You can stay in your old room."
"Yes Father."
Two days later Maxwell was in London eating at an outside eatery with his female companion of two years, Beth Holland. Maxwell had Beth's background checked and doublechecked. She was a school teacher from West London and was every bit as innocent and sweet as she looked.
"More tea darling?" asked Maxwell.
"Yes dear." replied Beth as she bit off the end of another cookie. She was, as usual, buried in her books. She did not know of Maxwell's craft, as well she shouldn't. He learned his lesson the first go around.
Beth finally broke away from the novel her nose had become acquainted with to ask, "about this weekend dear, are you going to be able to make it to the Shires? Remember, they've invited us to their dinner party in the country?"
Maxwell hated being coy, but knew it was best. "Not this weekend dear. I've got an appointment with a new broker in New York. I must meet with him this weekend, otherwise he won't be available until the end of the summer.
Just then an erie feeling came over Maxwell. He knew who was standing over his shoulder by the shadow that his rather large fedora cast.
"Good day Mr. Galloway. And may I ask, who is your lovely friend?" Captain Vince Van Haught slyly asked.
"Good afternoon dear Captain. What a lovely surprise it is to see you. What can I assist you with today?" Maxwell skillfully avoided introducing Beth to the Captain. He always thought it would be better if the two had never met.
"Beth Holland"
"Ugh." Maxwell sighed under his breath.
"How very nice to meet you, madam" the Captain said as he reached to gently kiss the extended hand of Ms. Holland.
"How are things in the yard?" Maxwell asked, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Splendid, splendid indeed. In fact, I am taking an early retirement. Had a relative pass away recently, left me a great deal of money. Much more than the pension from the Yard, I must say."
"That is great news. I will miss your expertise however. We need brains like yours to keep my trade business safe from scallions." Maxwell said again trying to divert.
"Indeed. Indeed. Well, I must be off. Enjoy your tea. Good day madam." The Captain tipped that enormous hat of his as he walked off.
"Nice chap!" Beth said, again burying her nose in her book.
Later that night Maxwell was watching television in the den when news broke.
"This just in. Honored Captain in Scotland Yard has been arrested in possession of an article of the Crown Jewels stolen last summer. According to the Yard spokesperson, he was arrested while trying to sell the item on the black market, to undercover agents! He was caught with a woman thought to be his accomplice. "
Maxwell gasped. He stared at the television in disbelief. Then he screamed at the top of his lungs for his assistant, "Mortimer!"
"Yes Sir?" Mortimer managed to get out, short of breath from the dash to the den.
"Mortimer, do you see this?"
"What the bloody hell?" Mortimer murmured as he slowly made his way to the television.
"That conniving little. Sir, it's Beth!" Mortimer managed to finally get out, still having his eyes glued to the set, watching Beth get out of the car in hand cuffs.
"Mortimer, you'd better tell me what's going on."
"Sir, I am deeply sorry. Beth and I, well Sir, as so I thought, had developed a, well a friendship of sorts. She kept flirting with me, and well Sir, I must say that I enjoyed it."
"Mortimer, please tell me you didn't show her the false wall!" Maxwell said as his face turned bright red.
"Yes Sir, I actually did. But I laughed at her when last week she made a comment about how funny it would be if someone less obvious had stolen from you, one of the greatest thieves of all time."
"She knew?" Maxwell asked, a tear developing in his eyes.
"Yes Sir. I guess I was blind to it Sir. She and the Captain must have been in together on this the entire time."
Maxwell relaxed back into his chair. How bitter sweet it was. Beth, whom he loved but was considering breaking off his relationship with and the Captain, who had been on his heels for five years were now out of his life. For quite a long while. Pitty it all had to happen at the expense of his greatest prize ever captured, the Royal Specter with the Red Cross.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Premise: View As The Thief
You must write your story this week about Maxwell Galloway, a notorious jewelry thief in England. You have stolen several prized items; the most prized being the Royal Scepter with the Red Cross, one of the five scepters in the Crown Jewel collection. You story must pick up when Maxwell discovers the scepter has been stolen from him. The story takes place in modern day England.
Cast of characters:
Julia Galloway - Maxwell's estranged daughter, 23, lives in Paris.
Mortimer Franks - Maxwell's assistant and confidant, 55, lives with Maxwell.
Captain Vincent Van Haught - A captain in Scotland Yard, 57, trying to catch Maxwell.
Beth Holland - Maxwell's love interest, 49, lives in London.
Maxwell Galloway - Career thief, 54, lives just outside of London.
Cast of characters:
Julia Galloway - Maxwell's estranged daughter, 23, lives in Paris.
Mortimer Franks - Maxwell's assistant and confidant, 55, lives with Maxwell.
Captain Vincent Van Haught - A captain in Scotland Yard, 57, trying to catch Maxwell.
Beth Holland - Maxwell's love interest, 49, lives in London.
Maxwell Galloway - Career thief, 54, lives just outside of London.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Hunting Grounds
This is my disclaimer: I made up this story. The characters really existed, but the tale itself never happened...at least not to my knowledge.
The morning was grey as the sun slowly crept over the mountain tops. Sergeant Hathcock and Lance Corporal Burke had been in their hide since about 4 a.m. the previous morning. The Gunnery Sergeant with the shaved head and handlebar mustache from the intelligence division had given them a tip that Colonel Ba was reportedly coming to an area near Hill 55. Colonel Ba was commander of the sniper platoon that had been hunting Hathcock and his Captain over the past few months. After seeing nothing yesterday, the two snipers had felt discouraged, but Carlos was working a hunch. He had found an area above a creek where there was evidence that someone had slid down from a low place above where the grass had been flattened indicating that someone had been laying there. It was possible that the guerilla sniper had only been there once, but after scoping Hill 55 from the hide, Carlos found that it gave the right angles for many of the shots that had been fired at the hill in the last few months. Carlos felt that the sniper would come back to his favorite hide eventually and would then lead him to the commander of his platoon.
Colonel Ba had sent a messenger to alert the snipers that he would be coming to rendevous with them and to be ready to report any new information about "White Feather". Now as he stepped off of the NV truck ten kilometers north of his rendevous point, he found himself daydreaming about one of his snipers confirming the kill of the ruthless killer that had caused so much commotion for the North Vietnamese in the last seven months. He was not looking forward to his long walk, but these thoughts made the time pass faster. Finally, three kilometers out, the Colonel put all of his daydreams aside. Knowing that he was well within the hunting ground of the American, he would begin the slow deliberate trek to his snipers' cave. The final three kilometers would take the Officer almost twelve hours, in which time he would not stop moving for a moment.
Carlos nudged his partner's heal with his own. Burke looked at Carlos and then trained his M14 to the same point that he saw the sergeant's Winchester model 70. "That hamburger has no idea we are here. We been watchin' him for at least three hours now; lookin' round, moving in cover from the hill. He still hasn't spotted us. Now he is getting in his favorite hide to spend the day picking off Marines." The thought angered Carlos, but not as much as the other reality of the situation. "John, we don't touch him unless he spots us. I hate to leave those Marines to his marksmanship, but if we are to have any chance at Colonel Ba, we have to follow old Victor Charlie here to the rendevous." Carlos' voice was so low that Burke more read his lips than heard what he said. With a slow almost imperceptible nod, Burke agreed.
At the end of another day, Carlos was relieved that no shots had been fired. Normally a day this quiet would make the Sergeant uneasy, but since he had watched the sniper scope on his fellow Marines, Carlos was happy that he had not found a target suitable for shooting today. Once the sniper left his blind, Hathcock watched as long as he could see Charlie to get an idea of the direction he was going. Carlos knew better than to try to follow behind the sniper, but he hoped that the slightest trail would be left and the two Marines could pick it up the next day.
"There!" Burke said in a low confident voice. "See that broken stick? He came this way."
"How did you spot that?" The stick was at least three hundred yards away, and the Marines were on the move. Burke hadn't even used his scope. He just "saw" it.
The two Marines found the trail to be easier to follow the further it got from Hill 55. "This hotdog is good, but I told you we were smarter than these gooners. We would never use the
same blind twice, nor would we ever leave a trail like this. If anything, I try to hide my trail more the closer I get to home." The two snipers stopped to take a break among the downed tree trunks that littered the jungle. They had been low crawling for almost 4 hours now. While stopped, Hathcock took out his 20 power spotting scope and checked all around them. Slowly he let his foot slip to the left where it met Burke's. Surprised, Burke slowly brought his canteen down and looked at his Sergeant.
"They are this close to 55?" Both men were sure that they had two to four more hours of crawling through the brush ahead of them. From this distance, a patrol from Hill 55 could accidentally run across them coming or going.
"Smart Charlie. Set up camp right in the last place we would expect." Carlos always respected a good hunter, and Charlie was known for that. From this point, the snipers could remain hidden while keeping an eye on the traffic on and off of Hill 55. The cave was 3,000 yards from where the Marine snipers slept, and had a great view of the compound. They were too far away for even a wild shot at the encampment, but still close enough to have a good idea of what movement occurred day to day. "We don't have much of a shot from here. Lets skirt that ridge to the west and see if we can't find high ground on them."
At 3 o'clock that same afternoon, as the snipers settled into their new blind atop the ridge, Colonel Ba poked his head from behind a bush and looked over the cave. One of his snipers stepped out of the cave and stretched. At this sight, Ba came out and announced himself.
As the Colonel walked toward the cave, Carlos readied his rifle. He slid his hand up tight against the end of the shoulder strap, pulled the stock tight into his shoulder and rested the crosshairs of the scope on the Colonel's chest. He breathed slow and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reopened his eyes to find the crosshairs in the exact same position. He began applying pressure to the trigger. This was Carlos' favorite shooting position. He could shoot very well from all positions, but this one was his best. It fit him. It was comfortable...like an old leather glove.
The morning was grey as the sun slowly crept over the mountain tops. Sergeant Hathcock and Lance Corporal Burke had been in their hide since about 4 a.m. the previous morning. The Gunnery Sergeant with the shaved head and handlebar mustache from the intelligence division had given them a tip that Colonel Ba was reportedly coming to an area near Hill 55. Colonel Ba was commander of the sniper platoon that had been hunting Hathcock and his Captain over the past few months. After seeing nothing yesterday, the two snipers had felt discouraged, but Carlos was working a hunch. He had found an area above a creek where there was evidence that someone had slid down from a low place above where the grass had been flattened indicating that someone had been laying there. It was possible that the guerilla sniper had only been there once, but after scoping Hill 55 from the hide, Carlos found that it gave the right angles for many of the shots that had been fired at the hill in the last few months. Carlos felt that the sniper would come back to his favorite hide eventually and would then lead him to the commander of his platoon.
Colonel Ba had sent a messenger to alert the snipers that he would be coming to rendevous with them and to be ready to report any new information about "White Feather". Now as he stepped off of the NV truck ten kilometers north of his rendevous point, he found himself daydreaming about one of his snipers confirming the kill of the ruthless killer that had caused so much commotion for the North Vietnamese in the last seven months. He was not looking forward to his long walk, but these thoughts made the time pass faster. Finally, three kilometers out, the Colonel put all of his daydreams aside. Knowing that he was well within the hunting ground of the American, he would begin the slow deliberate trek to his snipers' cave. The final three kilometers would take the Officer almost twelve hours, in which time he would not stop moving for a moment.
Carlos nudged his partner's heal with his own. Burke looked at Carlos and then trained his M14 to the same point that he saw the sergeant's Winchester model 70. "That hamburger has no idea we are here. We been watchin' him for at least three hours now; lookin' round, moving in cover from the hill. He still hasn't spotted us. Now he is getting in his favorite hide to spend the day picking off Marines." The thought angered Carlos, but not as much as the other reality of the situation. "John, we don't touch him unless he spots us. I hate to leave those Marines to his marksmanship, but if we are to have any chance at Colonel Ba, we have to follow old Victor Charlie here to the rendevous." Carlos' voice was so low that Burke more read his lips than heard what he said. With a slow almost imperceptible nod, Burke agreed.
At the end of another day, Carlos was relieved that no shots had been fired. Normally a day this quiet would make the Sergeant uneasy, but since he had watched the sniper scope on his fellow Marines, Carlos was happy that he had not found a target suitable for shooting today. Once the sniper left his blind, Hathcock watched as long as he could see Charlie to get an idea of the direction he was going. Carlos knew better than to try to follow behind the sniper, but he hoped that the slightest trail would be left and the two Marines could pick it up the next day.
"There!" Burke said in a low confident voice. "See that broken stick? He came this way."
"How did you spot that?" The stick was at least three hundred yards away, and the Marines were on the move. Burke hadn't even used his scope. He just "saw" it.
The two Marines found the trail to be easier to follow the further it got from Hill 55. "This hotdog is good, but I told you we were smarter than these gooners. We would never use the
same blind twice, nor would we ever leave a trail like this. If anything, I try to hide my trail more the closer I get to home." The two snipers stopped to take a break among the downed tree trunks that littered the jungle. They had been low crawling for almost 4 hours now. While stopped, Hathcock took out his 20 power spotting scope and checked all around them. Slowly he let his foot slip to the left where it met Burke's. Surprised, Burke slowly brought his canteen down and looked at his Sergeant.
"They are this close to 55?" Both men were sure that they had two to four more hours of crawling through the brush ahead of them. From this distance, a patrol from Hill 55 could accidentally run across them coming or going.
"Smart Charlie. Set up camp right in the last place we would expect." Carlos always respected a good hunter, and Charlie was known for that. From this point, the snipers could remain hidden while keeping an eye on the traffic on and off of Hill 55. The cave was 3,000 yards from where the Marine snipers slept, and had a great view of the compound. They were too far away for even a wild shot at the encampment, but still close enough to have a good idea of what movement occurred day to day. "We don't have much of a shot from here. Lets skirt that ridge to the west and see if we can't find high ground on them."
At 3 o'clock that same afternoon, as the snipers settled into their new blind atop the ridge, Colonel Ba poked his head from behind a bush and looked over the cave. One of his snipers stepped out of the cave and stretched. At this sight, Ba came out and announced himself.
As the Colonel walked toward the cave, Carlos readied his rifle. He slid his hand up tight against the end of the shoulder strap, pulled the stock tight into his shoulder and rested the crosshairs of the scope on the Colonel's chest. He breathed slow and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reopened his eyes to find the crosshairs in the exact same position. He began applying pressure to the trigger. This was Carlos' favorite shooting position. He could shoot very well from all positions, but this one was his best. It fit him. It was comfortable...like an old leather glove.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
My Friend
Sit there staring across from me,
blissful in your ignorance.
I sit over here as I see
what will be your downfall is your arrogance.
Listen to me, dear old friend,
as I sit across from you.
I'll describe to you your end,
as I see it from my point of view.
You have stolen from me
what is most precious.
You have taken from me
what you considered delicious.
Go ahead, stare dead into my eyes
as I plot and scheme.
Go ahead and try to compromise
how and what I dream.
'How would you know?'
I imagine you'll ask.
'By that old leather glove
that you left at your task'
Ah yes, that glove as evidence,
so warn and gray.
A glove that is missing it's co-currence,
the side that has gone astray.
So where is it, dear obsession,
that glove of yours?
It's in my possession
locked away behind my doors.
Should I reach across the table
and steal the life away from you?
Be aware that I am able
but is it what I should do?
That act would mimic
what you did to my bride.
Put her in a panic
as you tightened what you had tied.
But at some point you removed the glove,
probably to adore her beauty.
You have taken what I love
and now I will do my duty.
But alas, my dreams are shattered,
as the cops put you in chains.
I'll keep the glove so tattered,
in memory of my pain.
blissful in your ignorance.
I sit over here as I see
what will be your downfall is your arrogance.
Listen to me, dear old friend,
as I sit across from you.
I'll describe to you your end,
as I see it from my point of view.
You have stolen from me
what is most precious.
You have taken from me
what you considered delicious.
Go ahead, stare dead into my eyes
as I plot and scheme.
Go ahead and try to compromise
how and what I dream.
'How would you know?'
I imagine you'll ask.
'By that old leather glove
that you left at your task'
Ah yes, that glove as evidence,
so warn and gray.
A glove that is missing it's co-currence,
the side that has gone astray.
So where is it, dear obsession,
that glove of yours?
It's in my possession
locked away behind my doors.
Should I reach across the table
and steal the life away from you?
Be aware that I am able
but is it what I should do?
That act would mimic
what you did to my bride.
Put her in a panic
as you tightened what you had tied.
But at some point you removed the glove,
probably to adore her beauty.
You have taken what I love
and now I will do my duty.
But alas, my dreams are shattered,
as the cops put you in chains.
I'll keep the glove so tattered,
in memory of my pain.
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