John Hattaway » observations

As I Wake

smokingpen — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 11:34:48 +0000

Well, back to the rapid fire blogging of an active residency (for me that is maybe more than once a day).

I did go home the other night, apparently minutes in front of a storm. The people who stayed, and were awake for it, said the storm that blew in was heavy and hard and that power went out for a period of hours. That would’ve been cool to see and be a part of, but the need to see Erin and CAMPER was far greater than the need to be a part of a storm that inherently would’ve been no different from any other coastal storm I’ve been through that I don’t regret the loss of experience or anything else for that matter.

Going home meant about five hours (total) of driving. Erin asked about that in a way, yesterday, that had me say, “I packed only what I needed for the first five days of the residency so that I would have to come home. We also planned for the doctors visit so I’d come home. I had to come home whether I could find an excuse to stay on the island or not.”

I guess what all of this is meant to evoke is that, for me, I needed to go home. As such, I was able to spend some good time with CAMPER who has not been sleeping so well because I’m not at home; and some good time with Erin, who missed me – and that is a very nice feeling. As a result, I will never regret nor feel like I missed out on something by fulfilling those needs in my life. When I got married I knowingly agreed to place Erin and CAMPER as a very high priority.

However, what Michael White is trying to accomplish as a part of the Fairfield University Master’s of Fine Art in Writing residency is a sense of place and urgency in writing and he feels that leaving this place – even to go home – removes one from that feeling and changes the experience. I’ve spoken to different people about that, all who were here last semester, and some who left, and the feeling of remaining on the island, of experiencing the writing commune for what it is has been evoked. All agreed with Michael even though some, like me, still needed to take the 24 hours of non-class and workshop work to go home.

As a result, I went home and am glad for it and missed yesterday’s activities; and at the exact same time for someone who is single or has the lattitude in relationship and time to not go home, I can see how the spirit of the island is sufficient to carry one all the way through ten days.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

misconceptions or misperceptions

smokingpen — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 00:40:46 +0000

I think there is a tendency for people to (pretty generally) believe that I think everyone I come in contact with is an idiot. On the other hand, if people (in general) think that way, and there is a lot of evidence to suggest that is a pretty normal way to think (about me), then I must be doing something that qualifies what people say as true. This, however, does not mean I actually think this way. Or, more specifically, that I think anyone (okay, there are some people) is an idiot. Chances are, when encountering me for the first (or five-hundredth) time, I am going to be a bit stand-off-ish and not always very friendly. This does not mean I think you are an idiot. It does mean that I am not comfortable in all social situations and if the group is less than, say, 50 people, and I am not standing on a podium in front of a lectern as the center of attention, there is also a good possibility I am not going to be very interested or invested in what is going on around me. When I am on that podium and in front of a lectern I become a very sociable and interesting and nice individual, but then one might suspect that part of my upbringing had something to do with public presentation and as a result I am something different when I am in very public and very noticeable situations.

Why do I share this? Well, not so long ago it was said of me that I think everyone is an idiot. Or, more accurately, that I probably think everyone around me is an idiot and as a result I was not shy but (by implication) stuck up. Me stuck up is actually a rather far cry from what is true. Granted, I am not interested in finding and making new friends and/or acquaintances and don’t look for people I work with or associate with (school or employment) as friends (for the most part). In fact, I rarely consider someone I am working with or going to school with friends. For me, a friend is someone who has been in my life (consistently) for more than three years and with whom I’ve shared some rather significant experiences. Friends are not family. And even though friendship can be mirrored in marriage, it is not the same relationship. I chose, when I got engaged, to place my wife as my highest priority and as a result she is; but, by extension, it affect the relationship so that we are not necessarily friends and at the same time she is my best friend. There is and will be no other.

That’s not really the point of all of this. What is the point is the misaprehension that I think people, in general, are idiots. I don’t. What I do think, when I come across different things, is that people are not in that moment being smart. I think some things that others find intelligent are actually very stupid. I guess, as I consider this, the outcome is not that I find things stupid, but that people think I find individuals stupid as a result of finding what they have to say or what they are doing as stupid. Sure, some people always come across as less-than-intelligent, but, again, this does not translate into what I actually think of the individual. In truth, I quickly read people and whether that quick reading is accurate or not doesn’t matter (to me) as that reading also determines whether or not I will put any effort into a relationship. The real outcome here is that I will invest a lot of personal time in developing that relationship and as a result when I find people I am ready to care about, I invest that time.

However, what I do not think, about (pretty much) anyone is that people or a person is an idiot. With that said, I can see benefits of specific people believing that I think they are idiots, but at the same time I don’t and so would appreciate people not assuming things like this. Thank you.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

The Day After

smokingpen — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 19:28:52 +0000

Well, it is true, for those keeping score, yesterday was my birthday and I did turn 35. Incidentally, I had a friend I’ve not been in contact with for about ten years get a hold of me and wish me a happy birthday. Once again, Facebook has brought two people together that had lost track of each other. In this case, this friend had a reminder that went off on his computer once a year and, according to him, he’s been trying to find me every January 6th for the last ten or so years but has been wholly unable to. I guess (for me) that is a little interesting as typing in my name in Google has (pretty consistently since 2004) brought up my website, first sw.c.com and now johnhattaway.com. This, however, does not mean that anyone has to look for me very hard, I mean, I’ve found people and then moved on from finding them to ignoring the fact that I found them and such-like.

Yesterday was a good day. As promised I didn’t update, though, sadly, I did get online. There is a measure of need for me to find a job and to be actively engaged in it and even though I have a job listing that requires me to drive to a location about ten or fifteen miles away (uhm, according to mapquest its 6.27 miles away and takes 16 minutes to drive), yesterday was out because I was celebrating my birthday with wife and child and parents-in-law (and then later that night with brother-in-law). Which reminds me, thanks Lisa and Jim for the cards and Lisa for the cake. You all helped make the day special and harder to skip out on people and away from communication and life, which can be a little nice.

Erin and I went out to eat and get haircuts. The haircuts (universally) sucked as the lady doing the cutting didn’t have a blankety-blank clue as to what she was doing. I specifically asked for a number three on the sides and back of my head, which surprised her, but I know that the number three is pretty universal and when something else is suggested by a talented hair stylist am willing to listen, but this lady was such a spaz that her making any suggestions wasn’t appreciated. Anyway, she pulls out a pair of rechargeable hair clippers and proceeded to cut half of my head before they die. Then she proceeds to cut the same half to her imagined finger length and almost completely (except for the odd clip and snip) forgot the side she didn’t get with clippers. I kept waiting for her to borrow or pull out another pair and when she didn’t and then asked, “How does that look?” I said, “The two sides of my head are two different lengths,” at which point she started telling me about how my hair grows. I looked at her (in the mirror) and said, “I know how my hair grows and I know that the two sides are two different lengths.” We think, based on her reactions and trying to blame the cutting on my head, that she thought she tried to even out both sides of my head by using her scissors and failing miserably. Erin pointed out that when she went back over my head with a pair of borrowed clippers (hers were dead and she tried to get me to pass off on the haircut by telling us that it would take forever to recharge her clippers) that the side she spent forever on let off no hair when she ran the clippers over them and the other side cut a lot of hair. The problem I had, and I actually had to walk out of the salon after she was done, was that she started yanking at the clippers and in turn pulling my hair with them. Not comfortable. The point in all of this is the lady (and if I remembered her name I would probably share it with anyone who lived in the Berkshires in Massachusetts) didn’t really know how to cut hair, messed up my hair (and no, I don’t like it high and tight) and preceded cutting my hair by messing up cutting Erin’s bangs that Erin will let brand new hairstylist graduates cut and be happy with it. Not fun.

After the hair we bought me a toolbox for my tools. Something any “handy” dad needs to have. Followed by a new SIGG water bottle that is more flask shaped and rather cool. We then went out to eat at a Chinese restaurant after finding a place called Pedro’s Wings and Dogs (sounds like hot wings and hot dogs to me) before seeing a Chinese restaurant Erin knew and liked and since I was totally in the mood for Chinese we went in and then ordered everything we wanted. Which, amazingly, was a TON of food that we brought home and her brother told us wouldn’t last the night while her dad said he was going to take some to work today. All-in-all, the night was good and since Erin’s mom wanted to put CAMPER to bed, which also meant giving him a bath and following his routine, we tried to stay out as late as we could, but come 7:30 p.m. we headed back to the house to relieve a grandparent from a screaming baby because, when you take him prematurely out of the bath, he likes to scream his head off as though screaming will get him back in the bath, which is clearly never the case. Of course, this kid, when he gets hungry, decides to pitch a very loud and unending fit that often results in real tears until he has a nice warm bottle in his mouth and is being held very securely by someone. Which really resulted, last night, in Erin’s mom, then Erin and finally me holding and rocking him to sleep.

In between food and home we stopped off at the bookstore and I got a copy of Rudyard Kipling’s, The Jungle Books, since he wrote two Jungle Books, named the first one, Jungle Book, and the second one, The Second Jungle Book, and Barnes and Noble, as the publisher, published them as a single book and called the combined books, The Jungle Books. What I did notice, and notice almost every time I walk into a Barnes and Noble, is their distinct and almost (though not complete) lack of The Modern Library publications of classic books. I would imagine this is because The Modern Library is a direct competitor of Barnes and Noble publishing and as a corporation they’ve decided not to NOT carry the books, but rather to not actively carry them if there is a book they publish that they don’t want competition for. As a result, my choice (in literature) is Barnes and Noble publication, whilst, when I walked over to philosophy, I noted The Modern Library collections and works over there. I would suggest this is odd, or at the very least awkward, but it is neither odd nor awkward and as a result, I am sure if I get a hankering for a nice classic in a The Modern Library edition I should just use Amazon.com or plan to drive to Albany or Holyoke where they have a Borders (as a side note, The Modern Library does not appear to publish a copy of The Jungle Books). I wanted these books, in part, because I recently read Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book and that it was based, in part, off of The Jungle Books and that Gaiman really had a lot of positive things to say about The Jungle Books and as a result, when I review The Graveyard Book I want to have (possibly) read The Jungle Books. Now let’s see if that actually happens.

Anyway, the night ended as they always do. Since it was my night to pray, I tried to convince Erin that it was really her night to pray and she told me she’d tried to change my phone so it always read that it was her night to pray (it’s not currently accurate), at which time I pointed out that when I check to see whose night it is to pray I check the day before and the day after as well and that little trick wouldn’t last very long. She, however, thought it was a nice little trick and may try again at some future point.

The point in all of this is that I had a good day. I am now officially 35, which in a lot of areas when filling out forms I get to move up to the next age group segment. It also means that if I wanted to, I could run for President of the United States. Imagine that, me president of the United States. Erin’s brother told someone, who naively thought I was shy, that I didn’t speak to him because I probably considered him an idiot (not the exact words). We all got a good laugh at me being shy. But, the point in this is to imagine me being president when even my bro-in-law thinks that I think people are idiots. Its not true, but the world doesn’t necessarily see into my head and since I am stand-offish, means that I am not likely to change what the world sees. Of course, according to Erin I can be very friendly and charming in front of a large group of people (which I think might be true), but the difference between large group and individual contact is something I choose not to go into and I will revert to the statement that if I wanted to and was interested in political office, I am now constitutionally able to run for president. Amazingly enough, I now match all of the ACTUAL requirements to be president, I was born in and by extension am a citizen of the United States and I am 35. Chew on that McCain. Heck, the courts actually did have to look at his birth and the conditions under which he was born in Panama to determine if he was actually eligible. Me, I am actually eligible. Yay!

As for how I feel, well… that’s a question. I feel about the same as I did a couple of days ago when I was 34. Not really a lot different though I did spend the preceding week thinking about all of those things I wanted to have accomplished by the time I was 25 and didn’t and how at 35 I am a lot closer to having many of those early life’s goals out of the way (married, family, degree). At the same time, I look back on a lot of years of semi-wasted time and wonder if I would do things differently. Honestly, folks, a lot of that time was simply spent writing and you have to write to get better at writing and since I’ve dedicated a lot of my time to the study of the process and act and art of writing, I don’t think they are wasted years, just not focused in ways that would set me up at this point in my life.

Regardless, as of today I am still looking for a job, I did get a recruiter email today for a job closer to Boston. I responded with my resume and don’t know whether or not I will hear anything back. I am qualified and do have the experience, the problem I’ve got is not experience or qualifications it’s location. At the same time, I am hoping (and I am beginning to think this hope is false) that the local company I’ve been waiting on will eventually come through and as a result of the lack of movement in that realm I am most likely in need of reverting to Plan B. What is Plan B? Well, I can’t tell you.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Defining Moments

smokingpen — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 23:11:39 +0000

I think our lives are filled with defining moments. Those are the moments that change us whether we want them to or not. In Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, a book I am writing a final essay on for one of my classes, it would appear that one of her defining moments, at least through the book, was watching a giant water bug kill and then devour a frog. The element about the frog that she was concerned with throughout her narrative was the frog literally deflating before her eyes. Later she would think about, and write on, the giant water bug and that it was consumed into nature, dead and dispersed, and asks what the purpose of the giant water bug killing and then eating the frog. In my essay I use this as an example of change as the result of journey. Dillard’s journey was wandering around Tinker Creek and her musings about what she sees, and the change is questioning what the purpose of life is when frogs and giant water bugs and even people can want to live and yet die as a result of the actions of other people, other creatures, and even the weather. She ends up talking about those who pray to god for their daily bread and end up dying from wont of food.

Whether or not Pilgrim at Tinker Creek had the impact on Annie Dillard that a careful reading of the book would imply it does (and, “No,” I don’t think it does), the implication of the book, its finding, is a defining moment for some people. For example, the professor whose class I am reading the book was changed as a result of his reading sections of the book and then the book as a whole. His change was awe and wonder at how someone could write a book with so much added into it. One of his dream projects would be to go through and chart every reference she makes both directly quoted and paraphrased. In class he spent a great deal of time going through sections talking about what she was doing and who she was referencing and quoting. Annie Dillard likes to keep copious notes on things and as a result, her notes led to what she wrote, and what she wrote, though nearly abandoned, was the outcome of the notes and observations and less a product of a wonderful or strong memory, though I would imagine she does have one.

Some defining moments in my life have been less about the literature or books I’ve read and more about what has happened at the same time I am reading different things. For example, at age 14 I picked up Robert Jordan’s The Eye of the World, book one of The Wheel of Time series, and was transformed. Part of that transformation took place as I read the book over a family vacation where we drove from Texas to Utah and spent time not only with my maternal grandparent’s but also with different friends of my parents. We saw a salt mine, I tasted unprocessed salt for the first time, I ran into a skunk, and I had an old man tell me I should read less and pay more attention to nature and what we were allegedly doing. That was one of the last trips in that family van we would take as my parents purchased a mini-van and we started using that (more fuel efficient I would imagine).

Another defining moment was the day I realized I was actually going to serve a mission. No, that was not when I received a mission call, but when I was seventeen and had an experience that caused me to re-align my life in a way that allowed me to be able to serve a mission. Before then, and for some years, I told people that I wasn’t planning on serving and suddenly, with advance warning, I was now preparing to do exactly what young men in my church were required to do. Not all young men did it. I chose to do it. And as a result, the defining elements of my mission was babysitting other missionaries who didn’t really want to be on a mission, who, on occasion, wanted to be in or on the water, and who were biding time until they went home. At one point I had three missionaries going home at the same time and was saddled with two who wanted to be water skiing and one who stayed on the mission not because he believed the church anymore, but because he was guilted into it.

These are things I remember. They are the moments that as I look back at my life I wonder what I was like before the events took place. More recently, the decision to take a philosophy class led to multiple philosophy classes and to meeting and marrying Erin. Erin becomes a defining moment for me as I had gotten to a point in life where I didn’t believe I would ever find someone I could marry, let alone someone I would and did marry. The events that surround her are interesting. For example, the house I was living in, at the time, ended up catching on fire and was pretty well gutted. I had to move, lived with Jared and his family and Jordan for a while, and then moved into the old doll musem in Provo the owners had turned into a series of rooms for their grandsons and others to live in.

I remember a writer’s defining moment when I was just starting into kindergarten and my mother was watching some children during the day to bring in additional money. As I was leaving the house, somehow one of those other kids had Green Eggs and Ham and I remember thinking two things: 1) that I wanted to stay home rather than go to school, because school was boring; and 2) that I wanted to write something like Green Eggs and Ham. Now, over the years I’ve come to realize that I don’t want to be a Dr. Seuss, but the desire and drive to write has never left me. At times, there have been other authors who have risen up and inspired me. More recently, reading Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses was a changing moment, though probably not as changing as when I first was able to read Green Eggs and Ham. Even more broadly than specific writers, looking at popular literary topics and asking a simple question, “What would that be like if you took it back to its core elements,” and then working forward has been a very real defining moment to my writing.

There are a lot more defining moments, September 11, 2001, going back to college, CAMPER being born, finding out Erin was pregnant, and on and on

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Since Today it is December

smokingpen — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 19:44:42 +0000

Today is December 1, 2008. The reason this is important is because on December 19, 2008, the day after, and not many hours after, my little family and I will be in a truck (along with Erin’s auntie and her brother) and driving due east. At the moment, and after a discussion with my parents, as to whether or not we should drive I-80 or I-70. I-80 is my preferred route and after consulting the various farmer’s almanac’s out there in the world, have determined that if we leave on the 19th (the 18th would be better but is unavailable due to a final) we are about two days ahead of the winter snow. This is not an exact science, though I have learned – over the years – that the various farmer’s almanac’s are rather accurate, and will be watching the weather in about ten days for our departure. The outcome is that we, Erin, CAMPER, and me, are on the way out of Provo and the things that need to get done are pretty hefty.

For example, I think I am supposed to help my b-i-l find a way to get his car across the country or in light of not getting his car across the country, find a way to get people to ride with us, and help drive, so that we can be to the p-i-l’s before Christmas.

Another thing that has to be done is packing up the books. Yes, we have three large bookshelves and two small ones. There are books on every shelf. In the past, I think I was packing about 12 boxes of books at 40 pounds-ish apiece. 12 times 40 is something like 480 pounds. That was on sub-3 six foot tall bookshelves. Since we added two three foot bookshelves and enough books between Erin and I to fill them, and before he was even born CAMPER had his own little shelves for books and toys and there are books on his shelves, I am thinking that the number of 40 pound boxes might be increased to 15 or 18. Multiply that by forty and you get gross weights of 600 to 720 pounds of books. Because I realize it is a royal pain in the patootie, I will probably be the only (or at the very least primary) carrier of books from the apartment (in a basement) into the truck. Our plan is to load the truck with our things and the things we have in the storage unit on the 18th, take a test that night, come home and sleep on something (possibly a dreaded air mattress) and wake up in the morning with wife, child, and co. and then head off either to the north or to the south.

I also have to finish up the semester which, in some cases, requires me to spend time studying; some time writing; some time researching; and some time staring at a series of books that don’t make any sense to me whatsoever and will require a serious leap of faith to make the papers and play and tests all come together in a relatively coherent way.

Even then, the excitement of the adventure is growing. Sure, we don’t have a job set up (for me) but we have plans. Erin is working on some paperwork for the state of Massachusetts. Not exactly exciting, on my part, but necessary. At some point in the very near future we will have to transfer registration of both of our cars to Massachusetts. On top of which Erin is trying to take the GRE. I discovered today that I will need to take the GRE at some point in the next couple of years and probably also the GMAT. Which means, more studying outside of school for the hope that this gets me into a better education opportunity. I am thinking Harvard. We can’t afford Harvard and at the same time I would love to have an Ivy League university on my resume.

The point to much of this is that were on a countdown to leaving. For example, last night I noted that we were going to go to church here in Utah two more times before leaving. Erin thought, when I told our bishop that we were leaving, that we would be called to speak in church. I pointed out that the last time we were asked to speak (okay, the only time) they gave us about six weeks of advance warning. This does not mean they always give six weeks; but on a pattern, and the academics in this ward are nothing but pattern followers, one can expect at least six weeks and since they had less than five weeks, the likelihood of being asked to speak in church is rather slim. I would go so far as to say nonexistent, but I tempt fate only so far and then pull back. In this case, I shall tempt fate and say, “They ain’t gonna ask.”

There, I did it. What do you have to say to that Fate? Huh? Huh? That’s what I thought.

Anyway, two more Sunday’s and then we travel across the country. My mother said, “I hope they call you to be a high councilor,” and, “I think you still need to learn a little more humility.” I don’t know what to say about either of these statements. Yeah, sure, this is probably the first time in my life where I can be given a calling like that, but at the same time history dictates that I have not had a calling of any kind in some years, that when a calling was extended I had to move to a new location and therefore did not get the opportunity to perform any function within that calling, and as a result, am pretty blank (in so many ways) about getting called to anything, let alone the high council.

I think I have exhausted all of my thoughts for the day. There are a couple of other things I should write, but they can be independent posts… if I get around to them.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Lessons Learned from Working in a Bookstore

smokingpen — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 21:09:46 +0000

Erin and codename: CAMPER and I went to Borders down in the Riverwoods last night. We were there the night before, and I was going to purchase a book that Erin’s friend Anisa suggested to Erin that I might like, but left before we could buy the book (Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging: Confessions of Georgia Nicolson) (which is a whole other story and drama) because codename: CAMPER decided to start pitching a fit and we left and came home and decided to try the Riverwoods and Williams-Sonoma and Borders and other places yesterday rather than Friday when we were there initially.

So, return to Williams-Sonoma because I, off-handedly, saw something and commented on it to Erin who, after a couple of months, decided she wanted to see it, and we are back in the Riverwoods looking at what Erin wanted to look at and also looking at a unique bear cake pan and various other things. Once we were done with that place after waiting forever for one of the workers to get back to us and listening to another one share with us her thoughts on having a child and her sisters (plural) experiences with children, we walked over to Borders to get the book I discarded when we had to leave the night before.

Which then brings us to the point in this post (story) where we, Erin, codename: CAMPER (who decided to be VERY chill) and I are waiting in line for the register girl, a bit overweight, to check us out. When we got to the girl and I pulled out the payment and my Borders Rewards card, she made some comment that elicited the response (from me), “No, this book is for me.”

She turned to Erin and said, “You can get him to read these kinds of books?”

I automatically wondered what kinds of books she was referring; listened to Erin tell her that my purchasing this book was all me, and then I said, “I don’t want a bag,” and left the store a little upset at what I’d just experienced.

The truth is:

I want to write a series (or two) of books specifically geared toward the Young Adult market and as a result I also know that even though I am rather well read in a lot of areas, one cannot writing for a market, and be marketable to the dialogue of the market, without first reading what is in the market. The one series I actually do write on, take notes on as they come to me, re-write, re-think, and re-work the concept follows a teenage female protagonist. Guess what? I read a lot of books that are both YA and have female protagonists.
Even if I weren’t, necessarily, going to write a series of books for the YA market I like to read good stories and will often accept suggestions, once, from people. In this case, Anisa has been consistent in her suggestions to Erin about good things to read and as I often, in fits of I don’t have anything to read that I want or need to be reading will pick up some of the books Anisa has loaned Erin, I am mostly impressed with the exchange of fiction and am willing to read the first book in a series. On top of which, I read more of that kind of book than Erin does (even though most people wouldn’t know that without knowing me).

The other things that hit was that this over-weight employee said, “I own all of these books, they are so funny.” The assumption that the book was for Erin when Erin has her own wallet and check card and has the ability to purchase what she wants to read all on her own, and that I was taking a forceful patriarchal view on finances and purchases was a little more than I wanted to handle. Since we were leaving anyway, and since Erin had listened to the over-weight girl while we were waiting in line, once we left the building she told me what the girl had said and we agreed that it was pretty much VERY inappropriate and then I said:

“I made two big mistakes when I worked at Borders. The first was a big work mistake, and the second was a big store mistake. The big work mistake was opening a sexual harassment complaint against a co-worker. The other was checking out a couple of air force officers (reserves, just so you know) and having one of them say to me, “You don’t have [a certain] magazine.” I said, “Sucks to be you,” and then immediately realized my mistake and apologized. Later in the day the officer came back to the store wanting blood and ended up complaining loudly and forcefully about me. I was written up, but at the same time I normally read people well enough that that didn’t happen. Except that day it did and I was written up for it.”

We ended up talking a bit more about earned and tacit respect and and how I view the military as a job, which it is, and that people who take it more seriously than that and demand that everyone offer them the same measure of respect that is afforded merely by being a part of the same organization. The outcome of the conversation is that we both know enough people at different levels of military service who were outright bad and despicable people and who were not worthy of, nor had earned, respect and as a result the tacit relationship between military and respect that the Republican party and the overtly conservative portions of our country seem to think is appropriate; and that people who do deserve respect will have earned it regardless of military service or whatnot.

Anyway, the outcome of the conversation was not a boycott of Borders, we like the store and are a bit miffed the closest one to where we will be moving is across a state line, but rather a rather disappointing take on the employee who thought she was being helpful and doing a good job and who was actually rather offensive and blind to the fact that she was that way.

The lesson: Don’t assume that just because someone hasn’t complained in the past doesn’t mean they won’t complain in the future, and just because you don’t realize you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you are not one.

A lesson the girl has not, yet, learned.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Priorities

smokingpen — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 06:31:58 +0000

I am offering the world my list of priorities. These are the things, and to some extent the order of priority, that I take into consideration when making some of the choices I make. Believe it or not, different priorities will leap to the top of the list that seem rather low. That is because I also realize that different people have different levels of need at different times and as a result of that, I will change my priorities accordingly.

What is interesting to me is that I have touched up on this before.

1.) Family:
In this context my priority is specifically Erin and codename: CAMPER. Erin first, CAMPER second. There should be no secrets about this to anyone. “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” (Genesis 2: 24) This scripture is repeated in Matthew, Mark, Moses, and Abraham. What I take from this is that even if I were a self-serving individual, the moment I married my self-servedness would include my wife as religion dictates that we become one (in the eyes of God) after marriage. Not only that, but we agree through the marriage covenant that we will leave our parents and begin doing things together rather than separately. This includes having a family. Where before marriage I should, and rightfully so, be concerned with myself and providing for myself; once I become married I change that focus to include wife and then child(ren). Anyone who considers this an inappropriate or wrong priority needs to refocus on their own priorities.

2.) Religion:
This priority may not be the same one for everyone. But it is one that, given different names, everyone has high on their list. Religion, for me, is literally a religion. In my, and my families case, that religion is Mormonism or The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What we often forget, and what many use as an excuse, is that we find God through religion. And you find God through God’s organized religion and sermons and relationships with others who share similar beliefs. To some degree every faith on the planet regardless of where it exists worships and seeks after signs of a living God. Give that god a name and you will know of whom you seek. However, regardless of religious faith or sect or location or even if your religion is that of the NFL, NBA, NRA, or RNC and DNC you will follow your God. The bible, especially the Law of Moses, talks about not worshipping false idols and when you listen in church sooner or later someone is going to draw attention to the television and people who focus their lives and/or priorities around TV. I think this is accurate for such a small percentage of any population that the connection rarely works, but there are people who are converted to different ideas that don’t include organized religion and in some cases might qualify in this area.

3.) Writing:
I have never hidden the fact that I make writing a priority in my life. Writing fiction and more recently writing essays are one of the more important things to me. This has not changed and at almost all times in my life, when I’ve been around siblings or parents or even (now) Erin and codename: CAMPER, writing still takes a certain amount of my time and there is absolutely no getting around that. This is what happens when an individual is almost solely focused on specific areas. For as long as I can remember and at least all the way back to Virginia when my family lived there all I have ever wanted to be is a writer, all I have ever wanted to do is write, and the outcome is that I am focused specifically in that area. In order to obtain my goals I have to write and in order to write it has to be a priority.

4. ) Work:
Right now my work priority is school. I get up, go to class, read lots of books, write papers, outline projects, and make sure that by December 19 I have sufficiently accomplished my goal by graduating. I will, to a large extent, continue my education after my undergraduate. When it is necessary or essential, I work a job. Recently I’ve gone on terminal leave with the job on campus and don’t honestly expect to be back because of other more urgent needs at the moment. With that said, when I am not in school, my working full-time and providing for myself, my wife, and my child(ren) is the high priority. I wonder at what point in my life I will find a career and be happy for the unforeseeable long-term; however, at the same time, I am happy to get up and do what is necessary to make sure we have the money necessary to pay bills and have a little left over for savings and some of the things that Erin and I want and need to do with our lives. At some point, writing fiction or essays may be how we make our money, but at present reality and life indicate that my priority in this area is that I work jobs that I am qualified for, that fall within my functional capacity, and that my overall and specific flexibility allows me to function within.

5.) Family:
Yes. This is a second priority with the same title. And yet, I have more of a family than Erin and codename: CAMPER. This family includes my parents and brother’s and sister’s and to some extent Erin’s parent’s and brother and by a much further extension cousin’s. The farther, genetically, you move away from me (and Erin) the lower this priority falls. However, I do realize and recognize that family is a priority and before marriage siblings (and parents) took a much higher priority in my life because, quite honestly, I had not “[left] my mother and father …,” yet. As a result, I could focus on areas that appeared more important, which also meant that I was more available to run to the hospital and sit with a sick sibling for hours on end, or run to a treatment facility and sit with a dying grandparent, or run to Colorado and help my parents (who, interestingly enough, are not sick), or one of a host of other things to include digging out water mains or dry walling or pouring cement or running cable or watching children or watching dogs or a lot of other things. This priority falls lower not because it is any less important, but it has to be weighed against higher priorities that affect my wife and child(ren) and our future stability.

6.) Friends:
Friendship is an interesting thing to me. I do not combine this with family and I do not prioritize it at the same level as family. That’s because it’s not family. These are people I choose to associate with and under different circumstances, there are people I no longer choose to associate with. The associations with these people are the result of choice and as a result I can walk away from someone whom I consider a friend and not think about it again. Whereas I cannot walk away from family and not consider the consequences of stopping a relationship or even wanting to stop a relationship. There are ways where family, in this context, lowers itself to the level of friends and that is when a family member elevates friendship above family and chooses to support something that, really, means absolutely nothing while ignoring family obligations. The reason this is true is that I will elevate and reprioritize based on immediate need and circumstances and I will de-evelate based on other people’s choices. In this context, I think stating something to the effect of, “I can’t hear you because your actions are screaming louder than your words,” seems appropriate. What is important here is that I will not elevate my friends above family given two equal and immediate needs. Family comes first. And my wife and child(ren) comes first, first.

7.) The stranger on the road:
Yes. This is a priority. It has jumped up and bitten me on my hind-quarters at least once, but I am still concerned with the stranger. Call me a Samaritan. I watch out for other people especially when I am driving. If there is an accident on the road and no one has stopped I will stop. Occasionally, if someone needs a ride, I will offer them a ride. If I am somewhere and it is clear that someone needs money and I have some I will donate money. When I make enough money, I donate to local charities that will use what I donate to help people within the community. On top of that we pay tithing to help the church, and fast-offerings to help people within the church and the community. I recognize this as a priority and I take it seriously. It, however, is one of those things that is prioritized low more because I don’t have the means to always do what I want to do. I hope that this will change in the very near future.

To my way of thinking a list like this should come as no surprise to anyone. Granted, there are people who will assume that because my priorities were different and skewed toward siblings and parents before I got married that I would maintain that as the highest priority. I am sorry to say, that is not the case. I believe that priorities rightfully change over time and as a result, and because it’s not really that convenient, people’s feelings can become hurt. However, it is under these priorities and subsequent obligations that I have made some of the choices in my life because, honestly, at some point in my life, I have to be my own priority.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Walking … After Midnight

smokingpen — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 22:06:10 +0000

Once upon a time I really enjoyed listening to Country music. Of course, that was before I went to a giant country music festival and sat, for an entire day and well into the evening, surrounded by people I probably wouldn’t associate with if I had free time and the desire to associate with people (it was the George Strait Country Music Festival) and as a result realized that the directions I imagined my life going, at the time, were not in line with the lifestyles I could clearly see around me and as a result of that I decided that country music, though tame (which was the reason I started listening to it in the first place) was no longer the kind of music that matched my interests and I (rather quickly) started listening to other things. Today, chances are better than even I am listening to Katy Perry, Natasha Bedingfield, Sarah McLachlan, or one of a few other artists that are mostly female, mostly pop, mostly NOT the pop-tarts out in the world, and mostly sing in a way that suggests angy and chick and music. Some people might suggest that this is a retraction of advancement in the complexity and taste in music; and I might not disagree with people, though, keeping in mind the reason I started listening to country music was because I started only hearing noise in the Alternative Music movement that was happening on the radio and very few artists seemed to create music back then that ecclipsed into actual music for me, the outcome is that I find musical tastes that are, in equal parts, whimsical, easy to listen to, non-offensive (to me), and ignorable. When country music stopped being many of those things, in part because I did not relate to people who lost their dogs, trucks, horses, wives, alcohol, and on and on, I stopped really listening to the genre of music regularly. Of course, I do have several CD’s from the artists I really enjoyed, Garth Brooks and George Strait are the two I recognize as still owning, and have considered purchasing the Darius Rucker’s country album (of Hootie and the Blowfish fame) because there is nothing more interesting than a black man singing in a predominantly white genre. That and I really liked listening to Hootie and the Blowfish back in the day.

With all of that out of the way, the title of the post is pulled from Patsy Cline’s, Walking After Midnight, of which Garth Brooks did a cover on his The Chase album, in which the protagonist of the song, in a fit of despair, goes walking late at night presumably to clear her or his head. The reason this is important is because it represents an element in creativity that, me thinks, is underwhelmingly ignored by a lot of people and that is the use of walking (and often late night) to clear the head and focus the mind on the task at hand. Believe it or not, this is a method that I have used in the past and have every expectation that I will use it in the future as well.

Last night I was awakened a lot earlier than I thought I would. Honestly, though, I went to bed and didn’t set an alarm (Tuesday/Thursday alarm time is 0800). Instead of getting up and going back to bed I got up and sent Erin to bed and then shut the doors between our bedroom and codename: CAMPER’s. Normally the only door that is shut is the one leading into our bedroom. The reason for this is because we want noise to travel between rooms and codename: CAMPER, when he cries, even with the monitor on, is hearable so long as both doors are open. Amazingly enough, when both doors are closed the kid can scream his head off and you do not (necessarily) hear it in our bedroom. Especially if you are asleep. I didn’t expect codename: CAMPER to start screaming, but then I also didn’t expect to be awake and needing to shelter Erin from additional cries and the maternal need to make sure he is okay.

I checked on codename: CAMPER, he was fine, looked at the twin bed that Lisa bought when she was in town, and the duvet on top of it, and then dived under the covers. This didn’t last all that long as codename: CAMPER complained about his pacifier falling out. The result of which was me getting up, putting it back in, batting away his little hands, watching as he fell asleep, and then going back to bed myself. The outcome was, honestly, a series of awake and asleep moments, the longest of which was about one hour, where he would complain and I would give him back the pacifier or would give it back, wait for him to stop suckling on it, take it away, wait for him to start fussing, give it back, wait for the suckling to stop, take it away, wait for the fussing, give it back, repeat until he stopped fussing and started sleeping. This was, as one might or might-not guess, was somewhat successful as I believe the longest periods of sleep came as a result of this, but even then it did not last in the tune of hours.

However, when I woke up and then tried to comfort Erin, and then tried to go back to sleep, then realized there was a reason I needed to be awake and made my way around the apartment looking for Erin, and then comforting and putting her to bed, I considered bundling codename: CAMPER up and doing one of two things:

One: go for a long walk and clear my head and focus; or,

Two: put codename: CAMPER in his car seat and drive somewhere.

Unfortunately, neither option was overwhelmingly ideal or desirable which is why I ended up jumping into bed, shutting doors, and trying to get as much sleep as a fussy baby who, we believe, may be hurting and, at the very least, suffering from a cold that can cause body aches and fussiness in adults and this is a baby who is almost six weeks old and as a result would be even more fussy given the body aches and struggle to breathe, and as a result I ended up, at times, hoping that the micro-naps I was catching would do what a sub-thirty-five minute nap during the day does, which is to trick the body into being more refreshed than it really was. By eight in the morning, codename: CAMPER decided to really scream, which Erin would’ve missed because it was separated by a couple of doors which in turn caused me to feed codename: CAMPER who ate insanely fast. In fact, Erin txt-ed me to let me know he ate that fast again a few hours later.

Before midnight, however, we did go out and ended up driving around the much-greater Orem area. We ended up on the other side of I-15 and into a subdivision that had roads built into it but no houses. In fact, I believe had the markets not started the successive crashes we would’ve seen a very different site last night than what we say (lots of empty lots), and instead, people realize that this is a bad time to start building because the cost of building exceeds the value of what is being built and as a result (this is called stickiness in case anyone cares) it doesn’t make sense to build if you can buy new, relatively new, or old for a lot less than it costs to have brand new built.

One of the pleasant side effects of having a new baby has been spending late nights driving around. This is an excuse, for me, to just go. Granted, I don’t always get to think about the cornucopia of things I would like to, or need to, or that just come when I used to drive for long, long hours all by myself or the only one awake and where those thoughts would take me on journies to places that I never really considered before getting behind the wheel. There is something, for me, about that journey (not the actual driving) that is only possible as a result of being able to focus in certain ways and allow the extra-gray matter to focus in a different direction.

With all of that said, Annie Dillard wrote Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, this is one of the premenent nature writing books on the market. It was published 34 years ago. It contains some completely fictional accounts and at the same time, represents a single cycle of seasons as Annie Dillard explores the area around where she is living in Virginia. What I realized the other day was that this is a form of the Hero’s Journey. In fact, the thought came to mind, “The Writer’s Journey,” which ended up being a book on my bookshelf. I didn’t want to focus on the elements of that book as Christopher Vogler is really simplifying the work of Joseph Campbell and his book Hero with a Thousand Faces. Instead, what I am focussing on is the idea that in order to create what she did, Dillard had to go on a quest much like the hero’s journey in order to come up with an effective narrative.

As a result of those connective thoughts and that many authors, the one I use as an example is Charles Dickens as well as Henry David Thoreau and others who then take their wanderings and observations and musings and in the process of all of that also go on a mythical quest where the outcome is, quite literally, a journey that brings the individual writer back a changed person. Whether that change is good or bad is not the question; but that the journey exists and change happens and as a result of both that the literary qualities of those changes are then transcribed into a meaningful work of some form.

Interestingly enough, it is through this walking process that I’ve come up with some of the focusses that I am planning to follow as a student and graduate student in the future. And it is through this process that I found myself thinking about Erin, a lot, and ending up marrying her. It is through the process that I discovered some of the writing focuses that exist (though, admittedly, at least one of them came into being as a result of a multi-day drive across the country that needed some form of outlet and is still being worked on). It is through this that I find personal focus and I feel better and I feel as though I can handle some of the things that, occasionally, I don’t honestly feel like I can handle. The process, of walking, and walking after midnight, is complex; and at the same time, I think I wouldn’t exchange the walks with anything else.

The outcome of my personal focusses in life is that I find connections with things that spark interesting chords, it is through this long-running process that I move forward with my semester and work and focus.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Lack of Sleep… new babies

smokingpen — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 17:58:27 +0000

Well, I am working on a lack of sleep. I am also actually amazed that this lack of sleep is allowing me to plow through as much as I have been. Most of the lack comes as a response to Erin’s needs to sleep more since she does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to codename: CAMPER and his needs. Sure, I can help with the feedings, but there is just something about baby where he needs his mommy and as such, if I can move things forward to make sure that Erin is happy and content and feels like she can handle the situation, than I think the lack of sleep is okay.

I may need to rest a little today in preparation for a test tomorrow… and I definitely need to write some “notes” for one of my classes (essentially one page opinion papers); and I need to read more when it comes to a survey of the English Language; should study some; and have some serious cowboy reading that needs to take place.

Speaking of cowboys, I am in a cowboy literature class. We have gone on a series of field trips. The outcome of those (five) trips is pictures of the participants. If you are interested in seeing what the lense of the professor’s camera (and possible, soon, one of my classmates) than you can go to the website I set up for the class and pictures: http://cowboy.johnhattaway.com/. I am trying to figure out how to work around a Wordpress/PHP limitation on uploading sizes since I can’t seem to get a couple of 100mb+ files uploaded so that interested individuals can have all of the picture files without having to download pictures independently. One of the reasons I chose Wordpress as my (current) picture repository is because it has a gallery feature allows for full single file downloads without resizing or “crunching” the entire image. Plus, it is easier to use Wordpress than most of the online gallery software packages out there.

Moving along… and maybe heading off on a small non-sequitur… maybe a bit of a tangent… Erin and I were heading into the county building to register to vote yesterday. We had codename: CAMPER with us (since he is about four weeks old and isn’t being left with anybody, though Jim and Lisa did babysit for about an hour one night when they were still in town) and were walking into the building. As we crossed the street an older gentleman (retired, probably in his 70’s or 80’s) stopped us and said something to the effect of, “That’s the right person carrying the baby.” I was carrying the car carrier with baby inside. We stopped and spoke to him and he told us that he could see when a relationship between two individuals (husband and wife) by who carries what loads and in his observation we had to have a good relationship because I was carrying baby. He also said that when a relationship was going sour it was one person’s fault. I quickly said, “The baby’s.” He dropped it, but his implication was that it would be the husband’s fault. Truth told, any relationship that is going sour is going to have fault in both directions (husband and wife). It was still nice to have this man stop and tell us we were doing something right.

After we registered to vote (on, quite possibly, the very last day one can register to vote in Utah) I asked Erin if she was interested in going anywhere (we’d taked about a specific destination on the way to register to vote) and she said she wasn’t interested in going to her first choice anymore, and didn’t want to go home; so we did more of what I do with codename: CAMPER late at night when we are driving all over the place and we meandered through town, down into Springville, through some back streets and neighborhoods of Springville, and then up Hobble Creek Canyon. We actually made it into Uinta National Park before Erin said she was hungry and we drove back down into Springville to buy some food and then back up into the canyon to eat it, walk around (codename: CAMPER in a stroller), and then feed and change baby before heading back down canyon and back home. I found a pretty nice knife. I was going to take pictures of it and post them here, but I didn’t. And I probably won’t. With the outcome that I don’t have an outcome.

When we got home last night I watched parts of the final presidential debate between Obama and McCain. I was writing a post about it and about age and how theoretically age can play a distinct and important role in the candidate and as a result, realizing that too old and too young are both factors that are directly related to minimum experience and maximum experience with an insufficient amount of the former or an excessive amount of the latter indicating direct ability of the individual (and a cost analysis to potential employer and in this case the People of the United States) to not only capability but also adaptability, both being essential for job satisfaction and success, for the job and that McCain falls outside of the acceptable range of ages – and mostly because of his experience. In short, because McCain is older-n-dirt he will cost the American people more and we can determine this based off of experience, age, and choices (he makes).

Beyond all that, I was reading All the Pretty Horses for the cowboy literature class and, once I got past the first five or so pages, have really been enjoying the book. It is considered modern literature, which is a misnomer of sorts… essentially it is a popular book that is relatively difficult to read and requires a lot of attention paid to how the writer writes, that also doesn’t travel very quickly over a lot of pages. There are some rather distinct characteristics of a modern literary author, and I don’t personally think many of them will be recognized as such in twenty to fifty years, and most will be completely anonymous in one hundred years, with the outcome that I am enjoying the book and the story and find the details in the story (especially about horses and gentling or breaking) to be rather compelling and, from my limited research, accurate.

Regardless, this last semester is proving to be… interesting. Lots of reading. I knew that from the get-go. I’ve started to actively pursue some jobs. Hopefully there will be some positive glimmers on the horizon in the near future. All said, I am happy the semester is about over.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly

Day Job No More or Some More

smokingpen — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 22:05:39 +0000

First things first. I spoke to my boss and on my own volition and with Erin’s support, I have cut back my hours to nil or next to nil with the possibility that I might return to work in three or four weeks or not until the end of the semester when I come in to say goodbye. But that as a result of some family needs, and that the job was not appreciatively helping us out financially, and if we needed the money it would be Erin who would have to go to work because my job didn’t allow enough money to take care of anything,

Well, the weekend was a good one. I slept. Erin slept. codename: CAMPER slept and ate. Erin started to feel worse, physically, and after a trip to BYU Urgent Care we discovered that she had mastitis. This is an infection and has flu-like symptoms. Fortunately, she was not running a fever on Saturday; but by last night the visible signs of mastitis had gotten worse. The outcome was my running to a pharmacy to fill a prescription of antibiotics and to Smith’s to pick up a cabbage (we hear that cabbage leaves naturally reduce swelling and help with pain) to help with the infection. Not a lot to report on that front at the moment.

While at the pharmacy I heard some rather nasty music being played and looked up to see a rather tacky looking white boy doing a weird upper-body jig to the song as he let his phone ring (the ring tone was the song) and had a goofy look on his black-wanna-be outfit that didn’t work for his white bread body. Had that been the only passive interaction with the dude I probably would’ve forgotten about him. But, within a few minutes, he was back to the general proximity of where I was waiting for the prescription to be filled and talking to a group of people: boy-girl-boy-girl. He was one of the boys. The other boy had a baby that was between three and six months in arms. The two girls were less than attractive, and at least one of the girls was rather awkwardly overweight. As I tuned in to the discussion, and apparent reason for the call and the nasty music, was a discussion and search for an apartment for all five individuals (I am county baby as one of the individuals) and that they were having trouble coming to a concensus about which apartment they’d looked at (so far) to take.

I could probably ignore a discussion about apartments by people who are old enough to be talking about apartments or who have reasonable requirements for apartments; and forget about the whole thing (even though I would’ve still listened in), but the white bread dude had some requirements for an apartment (something like walk in closets or a pool or reasonable access to the curb or something inane) that he had to have. This resulted in the group not coming to a decisions about what they would do for an apartment. The result was white bread dude stating something like, “I hear Springville has cheap places to live.” This comment then caused the boy-boy combination in the group to discuss how far that meant the one holding the baby had to travel to get to work. The consensus was 40 miles one way. Honestly, I don’t know where in Utah County he would have to go to make a trip even from Springville 40 miles as from front door to front door, my house to the REI at 106th south was less than 26 miles. However, 40 miles was important to guy holding baby (not white bread, by the way) and as a result may have (allegedly) eliminated Springville as a possible location to live.

What caused me to listen and pay attention and then become annoyed with the conversation was not where the group wanted to live, or that Springville had cheap places to live, or that one of them would have to drive one way 40 miles to get to and from work. Rather, it was that every member of the group looked to be between sixteen and eighteen and at least two were relatively new parents. What was annoying and obnoxious and caused me to feel that these kids were destroying their lives was all of the previous annoyances stated and the fact that not a single one of them appeared to have the sense God gave a dead gnat to take care of what needs to be taken care of first. This was (in part) indicative of the way they handled themselves and the little child (for whom they were in the pharmacy and who also needed the medication they were trying to fill).

I can’t control what and how people are allowed to make decisions in their lives. I also have to assume that the ages of the majority of people in that group were at least eighteen since eighteen is the legal age of adulthood. I know thath eighteen marks the beginning of emerging adulthood where decisions take on real world consequences. As a result, no one can technically tell these kids they are being complete duffuses. For those under the age of eighteen, and in direct opposition to what it appears is the trend in Utah right now (and among the LDS faith), a teenager should not have the right to keep a baby and that baby should be put up for adoption; and that adoption should be completely anonymous. Neither the child nor the teenage mother should know about the other. And yes, I understand that the teenage mother will now she had a baby, but she should not have the right to make the choice about whether or not she keeps the baby. If I were to make a law, the only exception would be the teenagers parents (or the father’s parents) adopting the child and accepting full financial and legal responsibility under the proviso that the teenager does not have any legal rights over the child.

What makes me happy is realizing that even though I’ve been pretty bad at a lot of things over the years, and spent most of my twenties being rather irresponsible about some of the decisions in my life. At least, on the surface it appears that my choices didn’t have a lot of thought going into them. Truth told, I was focussed in a singular area and as a result the outcome was that I made choices that allowed me to get to the point I am now. However, I don’t think I would change the twenties for anything. I am happily married, I love my wife, I love our son, and I am pretty certain, knowing myself, that I would’ve screwed up any other relationship before now.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West

Real Heroes Fly