Doggy Debt

How much is your pet worth to you?

As a closet country boy (I grew up 13 miles from town and my closest neighbor was about a mile away), I’ve been instilled with a practical mindset when it comes to animals. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely cried when I watched “Marley and Me,” but I can’t help laughing at those owners who treat their pets like spoiled children. In fact, until this year, I’ve never actually paid money for a pet (Let me rephrase that. I’ve never paid for a dog or a cat. I’ve paid minor fees for a ferret, a parakeet, a short-tailed opossum, a ball python, and many fish). Maybe that’s where I went wrong…

Six months ago, my wife and I traveled to the bustling metropolis of Hopewell, MO to adopt our first child. Within twenty minutes, we made a $250 contribution to Hopewell’s micro-economy and walked away with a boxer puppy named Luna. Since then, we’ve enjoyed all the adventures a puppy affords. She’s relieved herself on the kitchen floor, pulled over my gas grill to use the grill cover as a blanket, chewed up every wire and cable unlucky enough to fall into her jaws, and destroyed her dog bed within 5 minutes of having it. We love our little ball of destruction.

And therein lies the trouble.

What amount of money is too much to spend on a pet? If your dog needs a $10,000 surgery, would you pay it without feeling some guilt? What about the hopeless victims of America’s recession? Wouldn’t they appreciate a cut of that ten grand? So where do we draw the line? How do we put a price on a loved one’s life?

For me, apparently the line isn’t at a $225 vet bill. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot of money, but let me explain. My wife was running with Luna on a recent Saturday and a bigger dog attacked Luna. Of course, the owner tried justifying the actions of his hellhound (and the fact that he didn’t have it on a leash), but the end result was a half-dollar-sized hole in Luna’s chest and not a scratch on the other dog. And now for the decisions.

As an outpatient physical therapist, I have about as much first aid experience as a seasoned SAHM (stay at home mom). So, naturally, I considered shaving the area and suturing or steri-stripping the wound myself. I also thought about calling in a favor from one of my physician acquaintances. Both options had merit, but I shot down the first because I knew she needed antibiotics anyway and the second because they would still have to anesthetize Luna to sew her up. The last option was to wait until Monday to take her, which would have still cost money, but significantly less.

In the end, I decided to feverishly rush her to the vet on call and pay out the wazoo for a few square knots. Why? Because I love her.

“It seems my hypocrisy knows no bounds.”

So what would you have done? How much have you spent on your pet? How much would you be willing to spend?

Don't let the old picture fool you. She's 50 pounds now.

Chicks dig scars...Too bad she's a girl.

Help, My Brain Vomited On My Computer!

iHola, mi amigos! I've decided to throw something a little different at you this month. This post has two sections. The first is a list of my random thoughts consisting of philosophy, religion, and silliness. The second is a collection of some memorable quotes I've jotted down from my favorite books. I don't have any real agenda here other than entertainment and thought provocation. But then again, I suppose that's always been my agenda.

Random Thoughts

An omnipotent God could have created the world 6 trillion years ago, 6 thousand years ago, or 6 seconds ago, and still make it look the same to us. The question among Christians shouldn't be when the universe was created, but why.

In writing, description shouldn't be used to fill in the gaps of the readers' imagination, but to paint a picture they can imagine.

We see youth 3 times in life: As a child, as a parent, and as a grandparent. How does this affect our outlook on life?

With obvious exceptions, most people tend to smile, laugh, and play with babies. Does this false representation of universal kindness have any affect on development?

I believe Jesus was fully man and, as such, was tempted by all of mankind’s temptations, but He could also raise the dead and cast out demons. He knew He was God. It must have been comforting for Jesus to know all of His beliefs were correct.

At His last trial, the Jews believed Jesus was a prophet, but not God. If His motives were selfish, why would He never deny His Deity when it was the only thing keeping all the Jews from believing His teachings?

Learn what the TRUE character of a person is, not the caricature you have formed in your mind for them. Then, you will cease being let down and learn to love the person for "who they are."

God says, “So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth. (Rev. 3:16). It’s hard to believe that God would punish sincere Atheists, who have put so much serious thought into the all-important subject. I can think of two alternatives off hand: 1) those who claim the title of Atheist do so not with true belief but with a selfish motive (i.e. revenge, power, attention, freedom from responsibility) or 2) the Christians in the said Atheist’s life have failed in their duty to properly present Christianity to a lost soul.

Vampires prefer AB+ blood.  Proof: Four different men transfused Lucy Westenra (Dracula’s favorite restaurant) without ill effect. (Dracula, p. 164)

Some Memorable Quotes:

"Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing."

-Peter Pan

The trees are not tall or luxuriant, but they are somber, adding an air of severity to the scene

-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

"My good friend, if, when we were once out of this fight, we could escape old age and death henceforward and forever, I should neither press forward myself nor bid you do so, but death in ten thousand shapes hangs ever over our heads, and no man can elude him. Therefore, let us go forward and either win glory for ourselves or yield it to another."

-Sarpedon, The Iliad

"Now you must cast aside your laziness, for he who rests on down or under covers cannot come to fame; and he who spends his life without renown leaves such a vestige of himself on earth as smoke bequeaths to air or foam to water. Therefore, get up; defeat your breathlessness with spirit that can win all battles if the body's heaviness does not deter it."

-Virgil, Dante's Inferno

"You never know what will happen next, when once you get mixed up with wizards and their friends."

-Rover, Roverandom

"I wonder what future generations will say about us. My grandparents suffered through the Depression, World War II, then came home to build the greatest middle class in human history. Lord knows they weren't perfect, but they sure came closest to the American dream. Then my parents' generation came along and [screwed] it all up--the baby boomers, the "me" generation. And then you got us. Yeah, we stopped the zombie menace, but we're the ones who let it become a menace in the first place. At least we're cleaning up our own mess, and maybe that's the best epitaph to hope for. 'Generation Z, they cleaned up their own mess.'"

-Mrs. Miller, World War Z

"You know the first step to being a successful, loving couple? Not getting in each other's way. You'd be amazed how many people don't understand that."

-Pearl, Year of the Black Rainbow

"To stay awake all night adds a day to your life."

-Stilgar, Children of Dune

"Body and brain, [White Fang's] was a more perfected mechanism. Not that he was to be praised for it. Nature had more generous to him than to the average animal, that was all."

-London, White Fang

"When you are a writer and a speaker, sometimes people think you have your crap together"

-Miller, Blue Like Jazz

"The idea that creative endeavor and mind-altering substances are entwined is one of the great pop-intellectual myths of our time."

-King, On Writing

And that started in me...the passion for the Occult. Not everyone has this disease; those who have will know what I mean...It is a spiritual lust; and like the lust of the body it has the fatal power of making everything else in the world seem uninteresting while it lasts.

-Lewis, Surprised by Joy

Rulers must somehow nerve their subjects to defend them or at least to prepare for their defense. Where sentiment of patriotism has been destroyed this can be done only by presenting every international conflict in a purely ethical light. If people will spend neither sweat nor blood for "their country" they must be made to feel that they are spending them for justice, or civilization, or humanity... If our country's cause is a cause of God, wars must be wars of annihilation.

-Lewis, The Four Loves

Good News and Bad News

            Disclaimer: This particular fun-filled blog post is all about my recent snags and successes as a writer. If you’re not interested in the exciting world of publication, I know a great website called “peopleofwalmart.com” that is sure to entertain you. If you’re still with me (bless you), then let’s dive in.

A quick Google search and some informal surveying makes it obvious that people like the bad news first, so here goes:

I’ve given up on my first novel…for now. Since I started writing Dei Song in January of 2008 (then titled The 144,000), I’ve grown considerably as a writer. Or, at least, I like to think so. Now, when I look at the current “final draft,” I still see so much I would like to change about it. The introduction takes too long to reveal the major conflict, the main character takes too long to become “likeable,” the resolution doesn’t resolve enough, etc., etc.

I know the writing is at least mediocre. I know this because almost everyone who has read it has commented on being sucked into the story world and enjoying their stay. Unfortunately, style alone doesn’t make for a great (or even good) novel. Like so many writers I’ve talked to, I’ve written a story afflicted with “first novel symptoms.”

These thoughts, which have been lurking in the shadows for some time, were subtly hinted at by others, and finally confirmed by an agent friend (if she will permit me to classify her as such). She loved the writing and was impressed it was my first novel, BUT, in the end, she echoed what Ialready knew to be true.

So maybe I should have actually read a craft book before I started writing a novel. Maybe I should have talked to at least ONE writer before I started penning out my grand idea. Maybe I should have written short stories first.

But what’s the fun in that? As I said, I’ve grown from the writing (and extensive editing) of Dei Song, and for that I am grateful. The best way for me to learn is by doing.

And that leads me to the good news: I’m published!

You heard it right. Splickety Magazine has graciously accepted my short story, titled “Wolf Hunt,” in its first publication. Splickety (an imprint of Written World Communications) will release its maiden issue in early December, and my story will be one of (approximately) fifteen Christian “flash fiction” stories of various genres, geared toward readers with “short attention spans.”

Wolf Hunt by Andrew James Winch (sorry, I had to) is a classic werewolf story with a twist. Sorry, I can’t tell you any more. If I do, Ben Erlichman (Executive Editor of Splickety Magazine) is likely to bust down my front door in Mad Max attire and make me regret my disclosure.

Get the free pdf file HERE. I know you’ll all want one!

Lastly, I’ll include one more juicy morsel of news (whether it’s good or bad is yet to be determined). I’ve started writing my second novel. It’s a YA (young adult) paranormal adventure that follows four extraordinary teens. The protagonist, Isaak Forrester, is adopted, Christian, and not exactly human. Join him in a world where wolves, wights, and Tuatha De rule the night, and where everyone is out for blood…

With any luck, I'll have a respectable draft completed by Independence Day, 2012.

Well, kiddos. That’s it for now. The fire’s dying down, my glass is dry, and my eyes are heavy. Thanks for stopping by. You know the way out. And drive safely now, won’t ya?

What Scares You?

The Anatomy of Horror, Haunting, and Halloween

Story #1:

David’s heart pounded against his ribcage. His breath fled in feeble gasps. The splintered wood floor in his bedroom clawed at his bare toes. Where was it coming from? Scratch…scratch…scratch… It had crawled into his dreams and pulled him out, kicking and screaming. Now that he was awake, he couldn’t rest until he found the source. Scratch…scratch…scratch. It was getting closer. John halted at his bedroom door and curled his fingers around the cold handle. A high-pitched screeech echoed through the shadows as he pulled. His curtains rustled. As the door creaked open, a flood of blinding yellow light poured in. Amid the glow, there was a shadow. A black unknown something, moving, growing, approaching…scratch, Scratch, SCRATCH!

Story #2:

The chilled night air was filled with a mixture of big city fumes and death. The sirens had ceased, but the squad cars’ pulsing red and blue lent an eerie glow to the narrow alley and the dismembered bodies hanging there. David felt his lunch crawl up his throat as he sorted through the butchery. He never got used to the smell of fresh blood.

So, which one scared you more? Story #1 about the frightened little boy’s approaching poodle, or Story #2 about the cops at the open-air meat market? (Gotcha, didn’t I?) If I’ve done my job properly, neither should have been pleasant, but they should have evoked different feelings. #1 should have felt like a classic horror film or campfire story, stimulating the imagination and making your palms sweat. This is what we (and most of the horror industry) will call “terror.” #2 should have pulled up a visceral distaste from the pit of your stomach, leaving less up to the imagination. Grosse! This is known as “horror” (in this particular scene, it could also be called “revulsion”).

Most scary books and movies utilize both “terror” and “horror” for their success, but most use one more than the other. Think of it as “Paranormal Activity” versus “Saw 3D.” Both movies evoked that psychological response to danger known as fear, but which one was more effective? Which movie sent you into cardiac arrest. Which gave you that adrenaline boost, that “fight or flight” response. Which one causes moviegoers to flee the theatre, rending their clothes and screaming their faces off? The answer is…both. Sorry. I know. Weak sauce. But it’s true. If there was a “best” scare, we would only have one horror movie, and they would make it into a book, and the book would be better.

The truth is, horror movies play on our fears, and if you Wikipedia “phobias,” you’ll get a whole smorgasbord of ‘em. Everyone is a little different. Me? I’m scared of centipedes, heights, and that creepy girl from “The Ring.” Some phobias are pretty outlandish, but there are some primary fears used commonly in the entertainment industry: the unknown, death, darkness, confined spaces, etc. You’ll see these themes used over and over because they work. Stories that successfully utilize these primal fears will be a hit. Those that don’t wind up being overproduced, under-acted flops that score a 3% on Rotten Tomatoes.

With that said, it’s important to realize that fears tend to differ by generation. Thus, the original “Frankenstein” just doesn’t have the same scream-potential it once did. The more scared people are as a nation, the more money the horror industry makes, and you can bet the industry will be acutely aware of what real-life fears their audiences hold dear. “Godzilla” was big when Japan was afraid of WMD fallout and invasion. Whatta ya know, “Cloverfield” popped up right when the U.S. was afraid of the same thing. Women are more afraid of rape and abduction than they have ever been (and rightly so, thanks to the news and a lack of moral foundation), and the “thriller” section on Netflix directly reflects that fear.

Finally, one last note on modern horror movies. To paraphrase Stephen King: “We go to movies now to see good looking men and women get naked, then get killed. There is a certain moral queasiness that comes with paying money to see monsters kill, not be killed.” “Saw” and “Hostel” come immediately to mind. Sure, people say there are underlying morals and themes, but when it comes down to it, people aren’t rooting for the victims, they’re rooting for Jigsaw…and that’s pretty messed up. In my mind, it’s only a couple steps away from throwing two slaves in a coliseum and paying to watch them hack each other to death. I’m definitely a huge proponent of the horror industry. I think it’s healthy to see good triumph over evil, to remember how small our own problems really are, and to scream until we laugh (talk about therapeutic!), but we have to be careful to preserve these true fundamentals of classic horror without stepping over into the realm of just plain horrible.

So what have we learned? What makes a good scary movie or book? In the end, it’s all about that dark, primeval reaction known as fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of death, fear of creepy music-- all those things we love to see on the big screen, but never in our own lives. So remember, the next time you curl up to a scary movie or book, remember, there’s nothing to fear but fear itself…that is, unless you’ve failed to kill that blood-soaked axe murderer hiding in your bedroom closet…

For some of my own, creepy, crawly examples of horror lit., check out my “Interview With a Vampire Victim” and “Paradise Undead.” I also have a little scary surprise waiting for you luck readers in my next blog!

Happy Halloween!

The West Virginia Blues

Hey, y'all. Here's a little piece I wrote while I was on my clinical in Princeton, WV. Enjoy!

Independence

“I don’t need this life, I’ll be fine on my own.”

Now that I’m here, I just want to be home.

I need my family.  I miss my friends.

I want my girl.  Every night that I spend

Away in this place pulls me further away

From all that I love.  Never thought I would say

“I feel so alone.  I guess that I’m not

As good on my own or as free as I thought.”

I had faith when You said You were everywhere

What’s omnipresence?  I can’t feel you here?

My God, my God, why’d You leave me?

When you can be anywhere You want to be?

How could you let me wander so far away

Into the unknown?  Now I wish I had stayed

Where I could be sure I’d see nothing new.

Who needs the world when I can have You?

I’ve done my time and now I have found

What I have lost in this uncommon ground.

They say You’re in all, and all You have made

Contains all your glory.  I wish I had prayed,

“I feel you, Lord.  Yes, even now

When I have nothing except for my doubt.”

In my deepest self-pity, I saw you there,

You said, “My son, you’re My cross to bear.”

Greetings from West Virginia

Pain and Potatoes

The Origin of Pain

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is life so fragile? Why does a bad sunburn hurt worse than a gunshot wound?

We all know what pain is, right? We’ve all stubbed our toe. We’ve all suffered a break-up. Heck. Turn on the news tonight. They’re giving away more painful stories than any sane person can handle (But who says anyone around here is exactly sane?). But what is it? Where does it come from? Here are two common ideas:

1)    Original Sin: Pain comes from sin. If there was no evil force in the world (Satan), humans wouldn’t sin and, therefore, the world wouldn’t suffer the perversion of happiness and pleasure (which is pain).

2)    Chaos and evolution: Since the big bang, things have been moving. Up and out! Naturally, when things collide, it’s not always going to be peaceful. So, when a friend stabs you in the back or when you have a snake in your boot, there’s really no one to blame, other than Einstein, Darwin, Newton, Lemaitre, and Lorenz. It’s science.

“Okay, fine. So pain either exists because of a cosmic villain or a cosmic accident. So what? I’m an educated, tax-paying American and you haven’t told me anything I can’t learn on Wikipedia (which I plan on cross-referencing after I finish this blog post). Entertain me!”

Easy, friend. We’re all on the same side here. But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I should present you with something a little more useful. Practical knowledge, if you will. So, instead of blaming Adam, Eve, and Einstein, maybe I’ll take a look within myself (as every healthy narcissist should). So what exactly IS the source of pain?

When it comes down to it, it’s us. We’re the ones that feel pain, so why point the finger at someone, or something, else?

What I’m getting at here is that our BODY does stuff to us that just ain’t cool. It uses nociceptors, neurotransmitters, and hormones to wreak havoc on our brain and, ultimately, our consciousness. Sorry to burst your bubble, but depression doesn’t come from cloudy days or bullies at school. It comes from dopamine and cortisol.

But there is hope! Men and women can easily go through life without feeling ANY pain: physical (Google CIPA disease) or mental (Google heroine). Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you died from a cut on the bottom of your foot or from “flying” off of a skyscraper.

The world is full of hot stuff. Maybe our best defense is to feel the burn.

So, the next time you blame someone else for your pain, maybe you should actually be thanking your nociceptors for the heads up.

Proving God with Potatoes

Bananas, potatoes, and clams. What do they all have in common? Potassium! (Bananas actually have the least out of these three). What do they not have in common? Everything else. They don’t look the same. They don’t taste the same. They’re not in the same food groups. They don’t even grow in the same areas of the earth.

This last point is the most significant. Why? Because humans REQUIRE potassium to survive. It’s not like saying, “I’ll die if I don’t get a cigarette soon.” It’s an essential mineral required for heart and muscle function, amongst other things.

Okay, okay. I know you read the title, so I’m sure you’re wondering what this has to do with God. Here it is: Potassium-rich food sources are present in EVERY region of the earth (even the oceans). So even though Ireland didn’t have bananas (until that pesky world commerce began), they still had potatoes to keep their heart pumping (until that pesky potato famine began). This is true, as far as I am aware, of every essential vitamin and mineral (some more than others). So how did these specific vitamins and minerals develop in all places needed by young man-cubs? Hmm...

Obviously there are holes in my little idea, but it's important to remember that it's just that: an idea. One that sparks interest in intelligent design and the deeper significance of seemingly insignificant occurrences. I’d love to hear the arguments against this idea (I’m sure there are many) and for it. It’s been good talking to you. Come back again real soon.

Fun With Free Time: Ghent, OBX, and Missouri

Spring is a time for change. Unfortunately, change isn’t always expected, and it's seldom convenient. Sometimes it’s a lot like locking your keys in your car and trading a hot meal and an evening on the couch for a cup of cheap coffee and a park bench. In my case, it’s a lot like that.

At the moment, I happen to be sitting under the shelter of a fir tree, writing on a rain soaked pad of paper with a stolen pen, and waiting for my spare car keys to arrive. On the bright side, there’s nothing like 4 hours of unexpected free time to provoke the creative mind. At the outset of this disaster, I had two options. I could either sit in a cavernous parking garage soaking in toxic gas and self-pity, or I could give my flip-flops a workout and see the world, or at least historic Ghent. So this is a re-count of my epic trip to the hippie coffee shop and back. I left my incapacitated car bitter and downhearted (I was bitter and downhearted, not my car), but came back, well, a little better.

As I set out from the parking garage*, I had no clear objective other than distracting myself from the painfully slow deterioration of time. I turned right out of the garage, walked a while, was unimpressed with my surroundings, turned around, and decided to go left instead. Taking note of the increasingly attractive houses and shops in this direction, I remembered a phrase I had coined in undergrad: conscious extroversion. As it turns out, the idea behind the phrase was much broader than the phrase itself. It was actually closer to the Buddhist philosophy of mindfulness, or what Everett from O’ Brother, Where Art Thou? would call considering “the lilies of the [gosh darn] field.”

*my last effort to have Alaina push “unlock” on her extra set of keys through her phone had failed and the first available chance to get said keys within a proven working distance wouldn’t come for several hours

So, as I walked with an increasingly light heart across traffic and through unknown neighborhoods, I took notice of the world around me. An abandoned baby pacifier sat on the sidewalk a block from the children’s hospital. 4-story historic houses towered up on both sides as ever-watchful sentinels. Sweet smoke danced on the changing breeze and filled my nose. I followed the smoke to a Briar pipe attached to a collegiate-looking man (you remember your philosophy TA, right?) slouching over his papers outside of a hip little coffee shop. I entered the shop (and why not?) and ordered a $2 coffee from Zanzibar, or Darjeeling, or somewhere weird. It tasted like it was from 7-11.

I sat savoring my exotic, free-trade java and listening to the nearby A.A. group swap stories about their time in rehab and psyche-wards until my thoughts drifted inward (caffeine does weird things to my brain). Anyway, after a few mental adventures, I settled on the unavoidable issue in my life right now: Change.

Alaina and I are moving in a month. Correction: I’m moving in a month and Alaina is following me a month after that (It’s a long story, and my hand is already cramping from this primitive pen-to-paper method of communication, so I’ll spare the details). When I say moving, I’m not talking down the street. More like half way across the country, back home. I say that, and yet, Yorktown, VA is the only home we’ve known in our 2 years of marriage. When we moved here, it was just the two of us and 1,000 miles of adventure. Since then, we’ve built our honeymoon life at the beach. Hey, Virginia is for lovers, right?

So we made our friends, found our favorite sushi place, and joined an amazing church family. All just in time to have a violent reality check and find ourselves feeling lost and confused. In the end, we decided it was time to return to the land of our fathers: Missouri.

In anticipation of our pilgrimage, we decided to take our first real vacation in 2 years. It was to be a trip to OBX. For those of you not in the know, OBX stands for the Outer Banks, and it’s the pride of North Carolina. Secluded beaches, quaint fishing villages, and put-put golf. So we packed what we needed for a week of fun (or what a normal couple would need to survive on Gilligan’s Island) and made the 3-hour tour south. Needless to say, the trip was amazing, complete with hot sun, cold waves, pool volleyball, a lighthouse, a ferry, a beach bonfire (complete with hotdogs and local campfire tales), and general lethargy. But an unexpected addition worked its way into the lining: The adventures of one Thomas Sawyer. I brought the book with me for some light beach reading, but it turned out to be a little more than that. For those of you who don’t know, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) is from Missouri, so most of his writing embraces the culture and history of the “Show-Me State.” More than that, he nurtures the Missouri wilderness that my heart has silently longed for in my time away.

Thus, my carefree OBX vacation was tinged with a newfound longing for those things I once embraced as part of myself. Since then, my thoughts and emotions have been various, to say the least. In fact, it would take more daylight than I currently have at my disposal to fully explain my joys and anxieties over the upcoming move. In fact, I had better wrap this up. It’s getting dark and my keys will be here soon.

Back at the coffee shop, I finished my caffeine-bomb just in time to see the first raindrops fall. I promptly pushed in my chair and made my return with all the speed my flip-flops would afford me. By the time I found shelter in the garage, my notepad was soaked and my pen was lost somewhere on the streets of downtown Norfolk. Determined to record my “blog fodder,” I shamelessly entered the children’s hospital and asked the receptionist if I could have a pen.

“Here, you can use this one.”

“Um, I kind of need to steal it.” Please don’t ask why. 

“That’s alright,” she said with a smile.

I guess you have to be nice to work in a children’s hospital. Lucky for me. Outside, the rain had stopped, so I found a dry patch of grass to call home and set pen to paper.

I’ve been making a lot of decisions and feeling relatively secure in them lately. Then I locked my keys in my car. There’s nothing like 4 hours of unexpected free time to humble an overconfident mind. The last two years have been amazing. I don’t regret my time here. I’ll miss my work, my church family, my friends, the beach, and the HRBT (just kidding about that last one), but it’s time for Alaina and I to go home.

Ready or not, here we come.

Our OBX luggage

The OBX crew

Cape Hatteras Lighthouse