Friday Update

Atticus has worked great. I’ve got all my chapters uploaded, numbered, titled, edited…the book is still lacking some essential information and the important ending, wherein my detective must become a hero to a few people. It’s not as much of a mess as I thought it was, and I had a long conversation yesterday with my friend and book cover artist, Clorinda. She’s a Roswell native, which will give this book an entirely Roswell feel to it. I live in Roswell, my character is based off a blending of Roswell people, and I am a Roswell author. For now. This is positive. Everything is wonderful and positive. That didn’t sound forced or anything, did it? No!

Do you ever wonder how our natures become suppressed by life? When I first started my job as a Catholic church secretary, someone told me I had a bubbly nature. I was taken aback, but it felt nice. Growing up, I was very much like my son: dealing in dramatics, wearing my emotions on my face, expressing myself in sometimes dumb but honest ways, being utterly and completely goofy. How did I become a boring, stoic intellectual? I am really very enthusiastic about this book. I am feeling utterly goofy inside. I hate being a stoic intellectual. In fact, the thought of reading philosophy at this time of my life, or having philosophical conversations, makes me want to roll my eyes like a petulant teenage girl.

How life knocks us down! What do I want to express with this book? The restoration of love and community, captured in a sense of goofiness. That is what The Minäverse has that my other books do not, and why it’s still my favorite book that I’ve written. I despise Anna and the Dragon because I stripped out the goofiness based off critiques informing me the tone was inconsistent. Was it a comedy or a dark drama? It was both because that’s the way the world is! But now Anna’s story comes across as merely gloomy. The truth is the world is a dark place, where people are evil and terrible and there are so many tragedies and disappointments. Yet, people are also loveable and kind and they say and do the craziest things. Also, there is joy, serendipity, and success (or fulfillment) where we least expect it. That’s what I want to express! I actually did manage to keep both the goofy and dark tones in Order of the PenTriagon, but the book isn’t my favorite because it follows a standard “hero’s journey” plot, which is not preferable. I guess if there’s enough weirdness, that plot is intriguing. Straight hero’s journey tales without the relief of weirdness have been done to death, though. I won’t read them, so why would I write them?

So, there you have it: my Friday brain melting down into…I don’t know. I need to reign in the weirdness at least until I finish the last chapter of this book. Btw, it has a title now. It will be called Delivering Hope. This will be the start to a series with my delivery-driver detective, where he might be Delivering Justice or Delivering the Goods. I don’t know, but mystery series tend to have these types of repetitive titles. Romantic comedies do, too. This is a mystery and a romantic comedy! How could it not be romantic when the protagonist is going to rescue the poor female and…? I don’t want to give everything away.

Las libélulas doradas

The last two evenings while playing my accordion, I witnessed clouds of gold hovering in front of my house, stretching across the street. I rose and stepped up to the large front window so I could see what the clouds of gold were. They were dragonflies, hundreds of them. I’ve never witnessed hundreds of golden dragonflies before; it was as if I’d entered into another realm or a place of spirit or magic, made even more magical by the glinting of sunlight flashing on my accordion. If only I were a visual artist I might capture my golden accordion flashing with lights surrounded by these dragonflies, and it would be a powerful image of something intangible. Sadly, I’m not.

Please believe me; I’m not an occultist. I’m a Christian, which means I firmly believe in the realm of the spirit, and I also believe God communicates to us through both natural and supernatural means. That is, dragonflies are part of the natural world, just as butterflies are. If you’ve been following me for long enough, you already know white butterflies have been an important symbol to me. When I’m being silly, I call them angels, but I truly believe God has used white butterflies as a means of encouragement and confirmation in my life numerous times, whether they are angels or not. Did I mention there was a dearth of white butterflies during the pandemic? I can’t explain it, but that was the reality. They’ve all but disappeared now, as well, when they are usually numerous at the start of August. Of course, the heat has been record breaking this year, and I don’t expect the usual to occur under such extremes.

Perhaps preparing to work on my delivery driver book, last night I dreamed I was working alongside my character. We were in the warehouse loading the delivery truck together; we drove around in his sweet personal truck together (yes, I gave him a 1978 Silverado because I’m benevolent to my characters); we went to the gym together later in the evening. At the gym, a few golden dragonflies flew around us, and the voiceover that’s been prominent in my dreams lately said, “The time of butterflies is past. Now is the time of dragonflies.” Laugh if you want, but that’s what my dream narrator said. And surprise — I just glanced up from my screen and a lone golden dragonfly flitted through the front yard.

I love to consider such ideas of the natural and supernatural meeting — of a God who created beauty and gave us a spiritual life as well as an intellectual one. I can’t imagine what it would be like to dwell only in the intellectual. Even though that is a human tendency, I’ve tried to push myself to discover the world that exists outside my head, not to mention the one that dwells in the places normal eyes can’t see. In Ephesians 1:18, the epistle writer says, “Open the eyes of their hearts, and let the light of Your truth flood in. Shine Your light on the hope You are calling them to embrace. Reveal to them the glorious riches You are preparing as their inheritance.” I want the eyes of my heart to be open to all the riches, all the wonders God has prepared for me. It’s a different seeing; it’s not superstitious, and the riches are not of this world. But what is the truth of dragonflies? I don’t know. Butterflies brought and still bring, as far as I’m concerned, a sense of hope for the future. Perhaps dragonflies are a different kind of hope — a more mature one. I don’t want to overthink it. Finis. May God bless your week.

When Everything’s a Mess

Let me tell you about the writing process. There comes a point where everything is a mess. Chaos ensues in the mind, and there doesn’t appear to be an exit. My writing method doesn’t help much, as it amounts to “write a 1000 words a day towards the plot and idea you’ve constructed.” At the end of 100 days, what do you have? You have 100,000 words that need structure and organization and editing. After 200 days…. Well, you get the idea. Thankfully, none of my books will ever be over 150k as the outside number. Few people want to read a doorstop. I have three books at this stage of mess: my delivery-driver detective/ghost story, the Albuquerque breakdancing cyberpunk story called either Breakin’ Good or Breakin’ lo bueno (depending on the day), and the sequel to the Roswell alien book already published (Order of the PenTriagon).

The book that was at the closest point of completion was the breakdancing tale. However, I became consumed with my fabulous idea to have a delivery driver be an amateur detective, due to this stalwart sort knowing where everyone lives and what they order, at least if orders don’t have privacy packaging. They are expected to be in neighborhoods, their vehicles parked in front of houses, and they wear innocuous clothing. Because I have a tendency to only write absurdities, I changed my driver from UPS to an invented company called PDEX (Package Delivery Express), whose signature colors are dayglo yellow and charcoal grey. Nobody looks good in dayglo, and it’s ridiculously bright, but the drivers still recede into the background and are able to skulk around discovering murderers. At least, the hero of my story is. I’m pretty sure we should all be wary of delivery drivers in real life, too, as this book was inspired by one particular driver who one day revealed knowledge of where I live and where others in my family live and work, and another driver who has a charming manner and face but gives nothing away. Combine the two into one character, and you have a force to be reckoned with.

That being said, I’m supposed to be making a plan today to bring the delivery driver to his publication fame, but I’m instead falling asleep on the couch even as I work my way through numerous cups of coffee. This book will happen, though. It must happen, even if I have to go back to working seven days a week to accomplish this. I have far too many pursuits; I get burnt out as anyone might and at one time had sworn to keep my weekends sacred. No writing, in other words. That has to change until this book is finished. I have a week’s vacation coming up, and I will use it for this goal. I’m not sure if that’s a promise or a threat. I will either listen to binaural beats during this time, or it will be whatever Spotify comes up with for me — which usually is a list of songs I listen to obsessively because I’m trying to learn them on the accordion. Binaural beats it is, then. One doesn’t need accordion distractions. First, though, I’m going to buy one of those programs that make books really pretty without all the effort involved in making my own ebook and print book the old-fashioned way, with a CSS stylesheet and coding and a desktop publisher respectively. I’m ready for easy. I’m ready for a lot of changes in my life, but some are a lot easier to make than others. God help me!*

Meanwhile, a distraction. Btw, I firmly believe Intocable is the U2 of norteño. There was norteño before Intocable, and then norteño after. Rock listeners don’t always perceive how much U2 changed the sound of music for years (you can still hear their influence in Christian rock), but they did. Same for Intocable — so many norteño songs emulate their sound.

*Speaking of difficult changes, I gave up drinking. I had given it up for Lent and made it about three weeks. I started again over a month ago, and I’ve had one lapse. I drank two shots of vodka because I couldn’t relax after staying up late to watch Sound of Freedom. It was a traumatizing movie. Difficult changes can be made, though. If you’d like to know what program I plan to buy, it will be Atticus. It gets good reviews, and I don’t have a Mac, so the popular Vellum is out. Going the easy route and spending money is probably harder than giving up drinking for a stingy do-it-yourselfer. Big congratulations!!

Una página más

When I was out walking the other day, this song began to play on the list Spotify had created for me. It’s not a new song, but music is a living, breathing art form that affects the soul, and I suddenly heard the lyrics for the first time. Or, I should say, they impacted me for the first time. It is, I guess, my current theme song. I will post the lyrics and a video below. Yes, of course I’m now learning to play it on the accordion. It’s by Los Cadetes de Linares. I don’t have the energy to translate it for you. I don’t do that when I listen to songs, anyway. Head translation is a difficult hurdle to leap over when conversing in a second language. I can happily say on some level I understand song lyrics I’m familiar with and don’t have to go through the tedious process of translation. Anyway, most people know at least a little Spanish these days. The English-only movement in this nation seems to be dying with the boomers and silents. It was always a stifling stance, albeit one that colonizing nations use to defeat other nations — any language suppression, that is, not just English-only. The Spaniards obviously used this tactic, too, or Latin America wouldn’t speak Spanish. This is because language is an essential part of culture.

I didn’t start this meaning to be so long-winded. I have no moralistic attitude towards colonizing nations; this is simply the history of the world. I have rather more an educative attitude towards it. Speaking multiple languages is a valuable skill; why be so snooty about speaking only one? My own grandparents were like this, despite being otherwise lovely, generous Christian people. I sorely wish I could be a better conversationalist in Spanish, but I often remind myself I’m awkward at having conversations in English, too. That’s all I have to say. The song says everything else. Well, almost everything else. Like so many norteño songs, it’s a lost-love song from the masculine perspective. Ultimately, what matters is the concept of new beginnings, turning over a new leaf — which is the English idiom matching the title and sentiment of the song. Life gives us crossroads at critical junctures — do we remain on the same path, even if it’s grown dark and weedy and impossible to traverse, or do we turn down a new one? In the context of the song, he chooses the new path. I have been so tired lately, and I have found myself halted at the crossroads. That’s the reason I haven’t written anything here. Also, I discovered I hadn’t worked on my book about the delivery-driver detective for over a month, even though he is currently my favorite protagonist, and his face haunts my mind. My life is an empty book. Yours? Is it empty, too? I used to listen to bedtime stories made for insomniacs. Maybe life is closer to these stories than to an empty book: meandering, turning, never ending until death with no heightened climactic moments. I prefer to see life as a library with many completed stories, and fresh, bright empty ones waiting to be filled.

Es inútil que vuelvas
Lo que fue ya no es
Es inútil que quieras
Comenzar otra vez

No interrumpas mi vida
Ya no te puedo amar
Solo sé que tu boca
No la vuelvo a besar

Tengo un libro vacío
Y lo voy a empezar
Tengo sed de caricias
Tengo ganas de amar

Hoy comienza mi vida
Una página más
Hoy me enseña la vida
Que me quiera ella más

Es la historia de siempre
Un amor que se fue
Y yo espero mañana
Comenzar otra vez

Sin rencor ni temores
Quiero vivir en paz
Quiero encontrar mi suerte
Y no dejarla jamás

Es la historia de siempre
Un amor que se fue
Y yo espero mañana
Comenzar otra vez

Sin rencor ni temores
Quiero vivir en paz
Quiero encontrar mi suerte
Y no dejarla jamás

La decisión más importante…

…es, ¿cuál marca de acordeón debería comprar? When I first started playing, the decision seemed obvious. The most common student accordion is the Hohner Panther, and its sound is surprisingly nice for a cheaper instrument. Hohner is a trusty brand of German-made accordions, though I’m guessing the Panther is cheaper because it’s made in China.

As a self-taught musician, I’m no expert on brands. I can only listen and follow what sounds magical to my ears. That was why I chose a Gabbanelli to replace my Hohner. I realized that most of the musicians I enjoy play Gabbanellis. I also listened to numerous videos of people demonstrating the various brands of accordions, and I tended to prefer the Gabbanelli sound.

But now I’m considering buying another accordion, and I’m wondering if I should buy a different brand. I could return to the Hohner brand with an upgrade from the Panther. The Hohner Corona was originally designed with Flaco Jimenez in mind, and as far as I know, he’s always played Hohners. So did Celso Piña when he was alive; they’ve now developed an accordion called the Rebelde after him. The band Los Tigres del Norte also prefer Hohners. Again, the company has an accordion in honor of this legendary band. For the record, I find Los Tigres a little too whiny and brassy for my taste, but I have still loved a good many of their songs over the years. Their repertoire is enormous, and I can’t judge an accordion brand over their whininess.

Then, to confuse me further, the Cantabella is the brand I’ve seen my latest favorite band, Los Dos Carnales, playing. Their songs have a wonderful sound. I would love to hear that sound when I play. Not that it ever works that way precisely. I never sound exactly like other musicians. Some people are good imitators. I’m not. I’m not proud of this because it means I’m deficient at hearing and replicating. By the way, Ramón Ayala also plays Cantabellas. He’s a poster boy for that brand. But he also plays Gabbanellis. His iconic Mexican flag accordion bearing his name is a Gabbanelli. One of them is, anyway. The other is a Cantabella. The Gabbanelli has little fish on it. I will always recognize those iconic little fishes. My Gabbanelli has the little fishes on either side of the brand name. See below this post OR below this paragraph. His little fish are surrounding his name.

The acordeonista for another favorite band, Calibre Cincuenta, plays a Dino Baffetti. Speaking of sound quality, it’s hard to beat this accordion. The creator of the Acordeonísticos site I subscribe to for tutorials plays a Dino Baffetti in recent years and might even be a sales rep for the brand. I’m pretty sure I read that on one of his social media sites. Not being on social media sites (except this one), I don’t pay regular attention to anyone. When I was looking into subscribing, however, I read his other sites. I’m guessing this brand is in the same price range as the Gabbanelli accordions, but it’s hard to tell, as they don’t post prices on their site.

Yes, this post was mostly an excuse to write about accordions, despite that I don’t have an audience that cares or is in the market for one. All of that is immaterial, she said with a snooty wave of her deft, accordion-playing fingers. I want to buy one; I’ve been pinching my pennies to afford another. However, what I thought would be an easy decision is not. I plan to visit the Gabbanelli store this summer (yes, there is only one store in the entire world that sells them). Maybe I will be so overwhelmed by the bling that I will never buy another brand.

Exhaustion. What to do?

I have no advice. I will generally live off vitamins, caffeine, and exercise and hope that tonight I will get the sleep I need. But I hit walls like everyone else. And like everyone else, I realize I can’t take a break because I have to get up and go to work. I have to clean the house, wash the laundry, and go to the store or to my son’s award ceremony at school or his sporting event. I also have an insane paranoia of losing my hobbies in the melee, and so continue to play my accordion, study Spanish, exercise, and write books.

When I go to Mass at St. Peter’s, sometimes I lose track of the liturgy because I’m drawn to the stained glass at the front of the church of Jesus as the Good Shepherd carrying a lamb in his arms. I want to be that lamb; I want to feel cloaked in his arms and to hear his reassuring voice that I am his and that he has a purpose for my life. Have I lost a sense of purpose by being too busy? I don’t know. I like to think that if we’re following him, that the essential person he has made us to be will emerge. The desire to write could not be entirely outside his will. Or could it? Maybe I need to just step back and rest.

Do you have a hard time hearing God’s voice and feeling his presence? I do. I have to say I’ve tended to feel spiritually inferior to people who can hear God’s voice and feel his presence surrounding them. I do feel his presence at Mass, but I’m an intellectual. I don’t carry that outside with me. I can only picture myself in his arms rather than feel those arms around me.

During my son’s triathlon yesterday, we sat in the shade of trees by the small lake in Dexter. Normally, I view nature as being a recuperating force. Instead, the experience was so sapping of energy that when I arrived home again, I passed out on the couch. Anyway, that is all I have for this week. I have to push through the exhaustion at some point and return to normal brain activity. Maybe tomorrow the vitamins and exercise will work again, and my favorite music will enliven rather than enervate with emotions I can’t really put a finger on.

So, what does one do for utter exhaustion? I don’t have a clue. What do you do for exhaustion?

Christian Marriage

There is a Trad Wife trend going on social media. I didn’t know it was a trend, albeit, I did see video shorts labeled as such filtering through my YouTube feed. It’s difficult for me to parse YouTube algorithms. I get dating advice, too, but I’ve never actually searched for such channels because I’ve been married for almost thirty years. Maybe dating advice is also on trend? Or maybe my actual searches add up to Trad Wife and dating advice? I primarily listen to Catholic and Protestant apologetics videos. Secondarily, I watch accordion tutorials and music videos. Thirdly, I still watch food budgeting and recipe videos, even though I’m at a point in my life where I do little cooking. Occasionally, I click on a video because it sounds intriguing or like a trainwreck I can’t turn away from. The Trad Wife trend might fall into “trainwreck.”

I learned this hashtag was a trend when one of the Protestant apologetics creators, Allie Beth Stuckey, made a video on it. My take on what I had seen was that it was based off of a lot of naivety. In one or two cases, there seemed to be a cosplay, sexual kink aspect to it, in which the wife primps like Marilyn Monroe and pretends to be a traditional wife, something which Marilyn Monroe was not. A sex kitten Hollywood starlet is not what any normal person would call a trad wife leading a trad life, though there perhaps is a parallel to the way in which she was owned and controlled by immoral men and the way in which these trad females wish to be owned and controlled by, hopefully, moral men.

Hopefully. I tend to make no theological arguments regarding marriage dynamics. We have no intact traditional culture; therefore, traditional Christian marriage roles end up being acted out artificially in our times. The most successful marriages I have witnessed in my years in very conservative Christian circles (I was a homeschool parent for years) were egalitarian marriages. The least successful I have witnessed were philosophically patriarchal with much talk about female submission and male leadership. The results have been so catastrophic in some cases that the children have left the faith altogether for agnostic or even deviant lifestyles. As someone who is a lifelong observer who doesn’t prefer to join movements, what I have witnessed is a sign that we’re doing “trad marriage” wrong, or maybe putting all our eggs in a one- or two-verse Scriptural basket without much thought to the examples put forth in the rest of the Bible.

I will add a caveat in here that, although complementarianism was a term invented by Baptists, the concept is held by the Catholic church, as well. There is no doubt that men and women are different in nature and that society requires both to function. But I do not see the hard and fast rules in Scripture that moderns preach. I see women such as Rebecca and Abigail defying their husband’s authority and unwittingly siding with God’s position. I use the term “unwittingly,” but I don’t really know this; maybe Rebecca’s deception was based off a God-given conviction that Jacob was the son God had chosen. That brings me to another point: God defies human wisdom and hierarchies regularly by raising up second-born sons. Getting back to Abigail and her siding with David instead of her husband at a time when no one yet knew he would be king — that man she sided with was a youngest sibling with many brothers ahead of him in the hierarchy. He was not even the second son! It is obvious, no matter what words you want to use to convince me otherwise, that God doesn’t think much of human hierarchies, and that includes women being on a rung below men. Go read the Old Testament, and you will find other examples of this phenomenon.

Modern-day marriage is a mess. Traditionally, people were married when they were too young* to really consider the consequences of being stuck with someone who might very well become loathsome after twenty or forty or even sixty years of marriage. But, thankfully, there was rarely a way out of the prison they’d placed themselves in. Yes, of course, there are stories of men divorcing their wives (historically, it didn’t generally work the other way around) or of men having their wives committed to asylums when their wives became annoying and asylums were a thing. Otherwise, though, the best hope was that a married couple would end up loving each other more as the years passed. I don’t think this was ever common, though. Am I being cynical? Maybe a little. Nowadays, I’m not even certain I would recommend people marry young because of the ease at which divorce is available. It’s probably better to wait until you aren’t a fool and know yourself a little better, so that you can marry someone you enjoy being around instead of filing for divorce once you’ve realized what a fool you were. I see so many divorces and subsequent remarriages where the husbands and wives are much more mentally balanced with partners chosen at mature ages. I even see this in my job. The Catholic church does try to prevent them by restricting annulments and remarriages, but they still happen all the time. The drawback, of course, is people aren’t even bothering to get married nowadays due to the fact that it’s a sham. Consequently, our reproduction rates have plummeted. None of this is good, despite those who are happier in second marriages.

Are men and women supposed to be happy together and to fulfill each other? To love and cherish each other? I would say yes, if this were a perfect world. It’s not, and, sadly, fulfillment is unlikely to happen. For traditional marriage to work, therefore, divorce must be made more difficult. Misery and long-suffering must be taught as good for the soul. God as our true soul fulfillment must also be instilled in us as Christian people. We have largely walked away from God as a culture. For that reason, I should be cheering for a trend such as #tradwife or #tradmarriage. But I can’t. I can’t find it in me to cheer for a binary worldview in which it’s believed that women need only love and men only respect. Love without respect is pity. Respect without love is a business relationship. I can’t cheer for that, not after seeing this type of marriage come apart at the seams and the children destroyed through it. Without an intact traditional culture, in which men and women have resources to aid them through loveless marriages, such as the old folks giving loving advice and friends offering hugs, this trend is simply not going to work. When one or the other partner realizes the raw deal they were dealt, they will go file for that easy divorce.

Is true love possible? Sure, but it’s a lot of work. I tend to view my parents as soulmates who just happened to find each other. Whether that’s true or an ideal is not up to me to say. However, when I review all that they’ve gone through together, how much they’ve sacrificed for each other, and how much they’ve compromised, I believe it was their intention to love each other, and so they loved as a vocation. They are still loving each other. By the way, they are one of the most egalitarian couples I’ve ever known. Over fifty years and still going. My parents give me hope that people can if they try, no matter what label they slap on. Living requires action rather than philosophy.

*Yes, I’m aware that people didn’t always historically have the luxury of choosing a spouse. This was especially the case for upper crust and royals who wanted to keep wealth and land in small circles of influence. But generally, if an average boy and girl favored each other, they could be married upon approval from their families.