From Junior High: NOT a 14-year old Psychopath!!

Here it is! PROOF that I was not a psychopath in 9th grade. My family worried about the way I always killed off my characters while writing stories for Mrs. Barnet's Language Arts class. Well, tonight, I found a paper where I explained myself to Mrs. Barnett. AND, I can tell she read it due to the grammatical corrections in red ink!

Here I am in 1975, explaining myself:

Not Enough Time

Whenever I try to write a paragraph in this class I never have enough time to finish it. Thus, I never have what I call a good paragraph. I suppose I get so involved that I don't know that the period is coming to a close, so once I realize this, I have to either kill off my characters or give the story an ending that doesn't make sense. I like writing stories whether they are factual or not. I get most of my inspiration when I close my eyes for a few moments and just think.

Now I just have a few more minutes to write this properly. If I would be given more time I could really make this paragraph nice. If I do finish this paragraph, I will probably stay after class and hand it to Mrs. Barnet as I leave this class. I am right. The bell has just rung and I am not finished.

Phew! Don't need more psychotherapy after all!

From 1974: Me, Electricity!

While sorting through some old papers my mother sent me, I came across this little story I wrote for my 8th grade science class. We were studying electricity at the time and I guess we had an assignment where we had to write about it. I chose to "become" electricity, and write about it from the first person perspective. Pretty amusing. I'm patting my teenage self on the back:

____________________________________

The other day, I was inside a lamp. I was just sitting there when all of a sudden, "Pling!" Out went all the lights.

The Mister of the family just got out of the tub and dripping wet he went down the long corridor, down the basement stairs, and straight to the fuse box. My sister was in there and you know women when they're mad - they sting! Well, anyway, the Mister was just about to put another fuse in, with his wet hand and ZZZZZZttttttttssssss!!! Ouch! God_____! By the tone of his voice, I knew my sister had stunned the Mister with all of her might.

Just then, all of my brothers and sisters went on, and so did I. I guess my sister didn't hurt the Mister with ALL of her might, just some of it. But the old goat replaced the fuse, anyway. At three o'clock that same day, I was humming in a toaster, quite content, when a grit got in my teeth. The Misses, or should I say Ms, put a knife, I think, in my mouth and she pulled me and pushed me and even pinched me. As you can see, I got pretty mad. As a matter of fact, I got really furious! So, when I couldn't bear it any more, I stung her like this: zzzzztttssss. She made the same remark her husband did. I care not to repeat it.

Just a few days ago, the Boy came home from school and just as usual, I was in the refrigerator when he opened it. Do you want to hear what he got out? Well, he got out one frozen pizza, two bottles of 7-Up, a box of cookies and two pickles. Just when he opened the pop, it fizzled all over him. He didn't bother to wash up when he opened the other one, either. When he was going to put the things away he touched me in the back and got a sting. "Ouch! God____ it!" he uttered.

The moral of the story is never touch fuse boxes or refrigerator backs with wet hands and never stick knives into toasters unless they are unplugged. And, never but never eat one frozen pizza, two cans of 7-Up, a box of cookies and two pickles. Cause you'll get sick!

Anti-Army Song

Back in the early 1980's, I was trying desperately to make music my career. I was always learning new Top-40 songs, so I could find work in one of the hundreds (maybe thousands)of traveling bands that crisscrossed the USA and Canada, playing 5 sets of music a night in hotel lounges and nightclubs.

But, every band I joined only survived a few months. I felt like a bad luck charm. In between these nomadic journeys, I worked at J.C. Penney's, in the "men's accessories" department (I used to be able to guess men's neck sizes. HA! Great party trick). I also answered a lot of phones and sorted a bunch of mail in temporary jobs.

My mother hated my dreams and tried to get me to be sensible and apply for her ideal job: a State of Pennsylvania office worker. I wanted nothing of the sort. In her motherly badgering, she frequently suggested I join the military, so I would finally get some "discipline". As a response to this request, I wrote these lyrics:

____________________________________________________
Anti-Army Song by Anne Silberman copyright 1983

It's not that I am all confused
And it's not that I don't care
I just don't want to be abused
And shave off all my hair

Get up before the break of dawn
Then choke down awful food
Do calisthenics in the lawn
This stuff don't fit my mood.

Tell Uncle Sam it's not for me
I've better things to do
I'd waste away in your Army
Wouldn't be much help to you.

Don't want to be a kid no more
It's time now to grow up
But I don't want to fight no war
There's life to fill my cup.
_______________________________________________________

Found these today, after going through another box of old papers that my mom sent me.

Next, I'll post a short story I wrote in 8th grade, where I pretended to be electricity. Similar to Barry Manilow's "I Write The Songs", where he plays the part of "Music".

Stay tuned!

I Need Motivation

After having been flat on my back with a slipped disc (or something similar - no doctor diagnosis) for a week, I find myself getting a bit depressed today. Physically, however, I am feeling much, much better. Perhaps feeling good enough to start feeling bad?

I need some sort of hope for my future. Hope comes and goes, in fits and spurts. My recent post entitled "2011 - Bring it On, Baby" was, obviously, written during a hopeful spurt. But, perhaps my dreams of the rosy future I was shown last summer are dying. There has been no tangible proof that a change will come. And I was promised proof - in January. OK, so the month's not over yet. But, I'm getting pretty discouraged. I have to take care of myself. I know this. I have always taken care of myself.

I just don't feel like dealing with the crushing disappointment of the "real world" some days. More and more, I don't like the "real world". I fit into it less and less.

I need a vision or a dream to materialize into a plan and a scheme. To give me hope for the future.

Somebody? Anybody?

Gino Vannelli - Right Where I AM

I am pretty happy with my very first video of one of Gino's songs, "Right Where I Am". While most of the photos are from a fan website, my friend, Julie, took a couple of them and I even took one myself.

2011 - BRING IT ON, BABY!

I am so glad 2010 is OVER!!! What a year. If you've read any of the postings from the past 12 months (God help you), you know what I'm talking about.

My Christmas depression lifted a few days ago and I am now filled with a new spirit of hope for the coming months.

We all need a new sense of hope. There is so much that must be corrected in this world. So many injustices to overcome. Huge money and power grabs that strip We The People of our God-given rights to a peaceful existence must be stopped. Somehow it must change. Hopefully the path to a new beginning will become clearer in the coming weeks and months. And somehow, we must find the courage to fight.

For, I firmly believe we were put here on this Earth to live harmonious lives, filled with joy.

Pass the peace-pipe, y'all!