"Speak to Be Heard"

"Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow..." - Lawrence Clark Powell

Last night I performed (for the first time) spoken word at my school's coffee house night. It went really well. Amazing in fact.

Figured I'd post here to share, though of course, hearing it is better than reading it.

If you couldn't make it last night, the bolded "words" are where I threw my fist in the air and had the audience shout "words."

"Words"

12/10/09

Last night I had a dream you see

In my slumber I watched a rumble and a tumble

Atop a hilltop I saw a battle in a valley

A war waged between only one enraged army

One people

All soldiers under one kingdom

Fighting for their quote end quote freedom

Men rose and they chose to slaughter their daughters

To burn down their brothers, and murder their fathers

Swords clanged and they clashed as little girls took up the sword as they had been taught

And blood soaked in the field and bones covered the grounds

And I looked all around to discover this hill wasn’t really a hill at all it was a cloud

And the valley was the earth

And the soldiers, my brothers

The army, my people

And I heard a small voice say to me,

“Now you see how dark the ways of man,

How violent the blaze of man,

How temporary the days of man.

Now you believe the pain of the sword,

The strain it affords,

And the gain it ignores.

Now you must act to bring about change

To lead a new phase

And use words to save the day.”

And I fell to the earth as the cloud disappeared

And the atmosphere set me ablaze to start again

It cleansed and it purified all my wants and desires

And I exploded to the earth still set on fire

Ready in hand with a brand new pen and a sharp new tongue

Ready to undo what man has done.

And I spoke, as I had been spoken to:

“Take heart, dear people,

Take heed, my brothers,

And I ask you, where does it lead?

This sword that you swore would be your protection

Has it filled its lofty position?

You’ve saved your wives and your children for sure

And you’ve shown the whole world how great the man you are

But at what expense? At who’s expense? At who’s incentive?

And can you recompense the pain you’ve gained from?

Sure, we’re the civilized society, the burger with fries society, it’s all-about-the-size society, the means are justified by the prize society

But what you’re really just saying is we’re the animals with supplies society

The beasts with the means

And if you want to disagree

I ask you to look the children and the wives of the other side in the eyes and tell them your right, tell them your holy, tell them you’ve decided they and their loved ones have to die!

Because you know what? The difference between the sword and the pen?

Is the sword really kills

The pen? You can throw your metaphors, analogies, imageries and see what sticks

But in the end, the only time the pen brings physical death is when it is misused, misread

By angry men, by blinded men, with small-picture means

Who think the only thing that can save their earthly fortunes is death

Because “murder protects and words just collect into nothing"

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.”

And when he speaks I don’t think he means battles and violence because those actions end things, and actions that are words start things.

Again, if you wanna disagree, let’s take a look through history

At the power of

Words like

Taking a seat at the front of the bus

Showing the world a hundred years haven’t changed us

You call us naïve idealists, hippies just here to protest

And I’m just saying, we’re just showing love

And love is actions, and love is

Words like

Taking a stand against an oppression

Rising a people to march an objection

A protest to taxation, taxation on salt

That’s all

A tax on salt and men rose up

But when the other kiddies knock over our sand castle

When we believe the lie that a good defense is a good offense, a good vengeance

We ignore the power of actions, the strength in

Words like

Teaching the people there’s more than they know

Showing them all how fast love can grow

Speaking to them to turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

Using that love and those words to break down an empire

And exercising silence in order to sacrifice

So tell me: how rightly, how mighty is your violence?

How strong is your sword?

Can it weather the storm of Truth and words?

Because actions bring consequences, you reap what you sow, and retaliation will kill you

So you kill to protect

You murder to heal

Fight fire with fire when fire doesn’t put out fire it just starts more

And you fall to your sword

When you should rise to your words.”

And by the end of my dream there was this strong sound, this rising, fighting to breath sound, that echoed all around and shattered the bones on the ground

And it sounded a little like:

Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words!

But to be honest I’m not really a pacifist

Because I do battle with words

I duel with adjectives and verbs

And I can fence with sentences

And for those who don’t, I don’t blame 'em

Because we’ve all heard the lie, but talk isn’t cheap, it’s hard

And choosing to fight is easy, and typically the hard thing is the right thing

Or so I’ve been told

And to be really honest I don’t know if I am right

But I know that a life is sacred

And I know that violence follows violence follows violence

So what then follows talk and actions?

So this is a call for change

This is a call to rearrange our instincts

To re-think our choices, our voices

This is a call for words!

So there's that one, and here's this one...

"What Makes a Man?"

1/10/10

What makes a man?

There’s gotta be an answer

It can’t just be some non-descript question, paper slip certificate, fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude, empty lip the principal gave me to make me grow up

I don’t believe it’s some useless threat my parents threw in my face so I’d face the consequences of my ride on the fences of responsibility

Words that float through air without a care and dare you to wish, dare you to dream they could be real when really they’re just lies

It can’t be that

Not rumors, urban legends, mythologies about ideology, philosophies that tell you you might as well be trying to learn to fly with wings made from wax and ignorance

So what makes a man?

Business suit attire

With a tie too tight to breathe

He’s up at three, to the station by four-forty-five for a two hour bus ride to work

From seven to six

And by the end of his eleven hour shift?

His slicked back hair is soft from the wear of working under a hard man, a merciless man

Because as the assistant to a business man

He’s not given the respect he deserves as his own man

And while often it seems like just fate, he’s often cheated out of his lunch break

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the strength to complain about the difficulty?

Or the love to refrain because he’s got to provide for a family?

What makes a man?

Foxhole box to keep him in

Buddies and comrades by his side

Blonde set in a snapshot hiding in his pocket

He’s got a lot to live for

See she is going to be his wife

Soon as he gets home

But the phone calls they get to make to each other every six weeks aren’t enough

She’s all he thinks about, all he talks about, all he fights for, lives for, be willing to die for her

Whistle and thud and a grenade is laid down to the ground gently

Right behind him

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the selfishness to run so he can see her?

Or the selflessness to jump so he can save them?

What makes a man?

Two part time jobs and a cushy home to boot

Life seems great, life seems grand

And with two parents who pay, life is dandy

Not rolling in cash, not many bills to pay

Gas in the tank and whatever other useless stuff he can rake in

Times are slim, but for him? He’s still getting a DVD a week

And some new clothes on the weekend

But then he’s reminded about the poverty of the society of Africa

And how their health and wealth isn't the same as his health and wealth

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the excuse he makes that it's in another man's hands?

Or the choice he makes that the responsibility is in his own hands?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

I think I know.

And maybe you do too.

But let me impart what I’ve learned so far.

So what makes a man?

Love makes a man

I was once told and I believe that if you ask what is the loving thing to do, you will be right 95% of the time

And the rest of the time you will be striving to find what is right, and that makes a man too

See we all have this delusion that being a man is not the same as being a gentleman

And the gentlemanly thing to do, definitely isn't the manly thing to do

But what makes a man?

Gentleness

Kindness

Self-control

A searching man once made a list of all the thing’s a man is

Wrote 'em on post-its and stuck 'em where he could not forget it

And his ever-growing list ever-grew into a tree of life and knowledge

And he picked off the fruits and he learned

A man is responsible

A man is respectable, respectful

A man is humble

A man is self-less

A man is self-sacrificial

And a man is a lot of other things we don’t think we can be

Something’s that are just too subjective, he can be it, I can’t be it, we’ll just leave it

But a man is wise

And a man is patient

And a man is courteous, honest, chivalrous, willing, loyal, dedicated

And a man is sincere

And he’s quick to listen and he’s slow to speak

And a man is a lot of other things that actually come easy

Because a man is prayerful

And a man is peaceful and comforting and strong

But not in the way you’re thinking of strong

Because a man is strong [side note: held fist to heart]

And a man is joyful

And he’s pure in thought and action!

And a man is vigorous in his pursuit of goodness and righteousness!

And a man is steadfast!

And he holds to the truth no matter what, no matter the consequences, no matter the insults or the pride holding him back

Because you know what? Of all the fruits on the tree the searching man made

There was one he forbade to never let go

And it is: a man is content with Jesus as his everything

Because what makes a man?

God makes a man

God fear, God near, God here [side note: touched heart]

For God so loved the world that he believed in man

He believes in man

And they say God won’t give us more than we can handle

And this is what He’s given us

So what can we handle?

See we’re all searching for what a man is

Whether you’re male or you’re female

And I don’t have all the answers yet

Because there are too many I don’t want to forget, and too many more to explore

So I want to leave you with these four simple words

With this quest that should help you in life with your struggles and strife

Are you ready?

Because it’s a tough one, it’s a doozy, it’s…it’s a hard one,

But it’s easier if you're searching, if you’re asking:

What makes a man?

And I think you know.

Miss Hiedi Johnson asked me after what the four words are. She asked if it was "God makes a man." I told her, to me, they are "What makes a man?" and also "I think you know." That's because it leaves it as more of a quest and a searching. I think it needs to be a discovery rather than a sermon a man decides to believe. There's more faith in searching.

However, she's right: "God makes a man" is four words and that's perfect and works beautifully as if I had planned it :), as do any word before "makes a man" ("Love makes a man," "Responsibility makes a man," etc etc etc) so that all works, too.

And that's it. That's all I got...

Plan to write another soon...now? We'll see...need an idea, need an idea...

"You Have Exchanged Nothing"

I have reached a new chapter in my life. And I don't think it's sunk in just yet exactly where I am.

Two weeks ago today (12/25/09) at about 9:30 pm I officially completed my first novel.

188, 12pt font, single spaced pages. (374 double spaced)

86, 698 words.

3 1/2 years.

Blood.

Sweat.

Tears.

And while it is probably one of the greatest accomplishments of my 20 year life right now (I finished the first draft of my first book when I was 20!), I am not satisfied.

But maybe that is because I don't know what's to come.

I am not satisfied because I know it's not ready. I know I have a lot of work to get done on it before I feel comfortable letting anyone else (Chris excluded) look at it, breathe on it, experience it.

I failed the ending. It didn't flow right, it wasn't descriptive, full enough, definitely wasn't long enough. My intended goal was 200 pages, roughly 100,000.

I missed the mark.

But it's only draft one, and draft one is complete.

I've decided to re-read over Stephen King's section of his book On Writing about revising and editing. If you haven't read On Writing you should, even if you don't like King. You will learn to respect him because of this book. Because he lays out why it is that he is so successful, and it's not a fluke. Even if you're not a writer, you can appreciate this book (my dad did).

King tells me that the first step in revising a work, building draft two, is to not look at, touch, or even think about the book for 6 weeks...minimum.

When something that is so short for a novel (King keeps talks about 400-500 page manuscripts with 350,000 word counts) and it's taken up 3 1/2 years of your life, you want to get it done. To keep working it, scrubbing it, cleaning it, perfecting it.

But I trust him.

So I dropped it.

But it still hasn't left my mind, and that'll take a few days.

According to websites I just browsed, one said that I am definitely classed as a hard-bound novel (25,000-150,000 words, 100-600 double spaced pages) as opposed to a paper-back novel (35,000-80,000 words, 140-320 double spaced pages). So I'm on the shorter end of a hard cover, and that's comforting.

Another site said some publishers prefer a minimum of 70,000 words for a first novel, while others won't take anything less than 80,000, and they are less inclined to like a 110,000 word first novel.

And that gives me a lot of comfort.

But,

I'm dropping it.

To get my mind off my baby, my child, that terribly ugly old thing over there (I have a terrible knack of comparing myself to King and he says that if a novel shouldn't take you longer than 3 months to finish you're doing something wrong, I did that 14 times over...).

Anyway, yet again to get my mind off that blasted book I began writing something new yesterday. And to be honest...the first scene is really cool. The story telling technique isn't perfect yet, I haven't worked out the exact nature of the big reveal for the scene, not sure if my method was flawless, but the idea, the characters, the direction it has the potential to go into (since I have no idea what this is at all, a few vague ideas but nothing more) seems very promising, and very fun.

So that is my life as a writer. Exactly like my new story: a lot of promise, very fun, a direction with a lot of potential, and when I'm completely honest with myself: not as bad as I think it is.

Now, the other part of my life.

I have started a new chapter, a new beginning, a new facet of a coal-transforming-diamond...

Over the last few months—

My gosh this is a long post! Sorry...

Over the last few months I have had this incredible face-to-face confrontation with God. Closer than I've ever been. I can feel him breathing.

I went through a drastic revelation from God back in October that challenged me to disregard all of my searches for my own happiness, my own love and to search after him with that passion and vigorous pursuit.

Because of the weight of that night and what I felt and heard Him say, I have sworn to never look back, to keep moving forward and always strive to become the man that He wants me to be.

And that is one of the things we have been talking about: "What does it mean to be a man, versus a boy?"

Aswell...

"Do you love Me more than these?"

"God first, before anything"

"God helps those who help others"

And the idea of "Steadfastness"

There has been sacrifice, submission, a drastic change in my prayer/Bible-reading life, and I like to think a drastic change in my attitude and presence.

I think that for many months, years God was preparing me for that night. He was steadily moving me toward that night where He could swoop in and cut to the quick with Words.

It has been an amazing adventure so far and I know I'm barely out of the exposition (look up a plot diagram once in a while, why don't ya?)

But unlike my writing life, I see the direction for this chapter, I can see the promise more clearly. And I see the potential worry that could sink in with the rising action to come (finding a job, moving out of my parents house, finding a wife, getting married, leading a family, paying off my loans), but then I just "consider the ravens" (see Luke 12:24) and remember that no matter what, I'm set, I'm safe, I've got back up through it all.

Life is moving, developing, dynamic changes are coming and have been underway. This is not a time for complacency or laziness, but growth and action. The direction has been set, and the promise is a beautiful facet with the possibility for more.

“Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.”

- William MacNeile Dixon

(sketches of the Hope Diamond)

Check the Cards in My Back Pocket

My mom said something interesting to me the other day.

"Nathan, you don't just keep your cards close to your chest, you hide them."

I responded by pointing at my sleeve, "You see that? You see that? That's a rock. Not because it really is, but because I tell you it is."

I know I have a problem. A problem many people may think is not that bad. I don't like to admit my feelings or present myself in a way that my feelings (whether romantic or otherwise—annoyance, anger, depression) are evident. Only recently (the last few weeks) have I begun to acknowledge outwardly as well as inwardly that I have problems, that I have issues that are important.

I don't know how to deal with this problem. I feel awkward, I feel selfish when I talk about my problems. The only times I do are when I can't take it anymore (see U2's "I know I'll go crazy if I don't go crazy tonight" song...whatever the title is) or when I'm asked more than twice "What's up?"

"Hey wanna listen to me spill my guts about my problems?" sounds selfish. To me, it is selfish. (insert chuckle here) Yet, I constantly implore others for their issues, I am constantly trying to aid others and help them through their problems, in showing them love—in bending over backwards to love on them so that they feel safe and comforted. I can't help it, it's what I'm about. And if it kills me (which I think it slowly is) at least God will be happy I'm loving and my friends will be happy that they're no longer hurting. Is there relief in that? Is there some sort of "pouring back in" from all the pouring out I do? Yeah... Is it enough? I don't think so. I love to help. Every other week I look forward to Sack Lunch Ministries. I find relief there, there is a release of my pain when I'm with those people, when I feel that I'm doing good.

Last night I lay in bed and asked God, "What am I moving towards? What can be so amazing, so awe-inspiring, that it is worth all this pain?" I lied to myself and said there could be nothing that great. But deep inside I'm still, in part, an idealist, a romantic. And today it was echoed by a very good friend, "There is no 'probably' or 'sure.' Something great is coming. Something amazing is out there." I love her. She's such a good friend.

So, if you ever want to actually see what color that heart I like to say is a rock on my sleeve is, just check my back pocket, or ask three times—it builds so much, there's no way I'll be able keep it in with that kind of probing. Or if you think I'm selfish too, just come tell me your problems. I'd honestly love to hear them.

As always, thanks for listening—er, reading.

Evolution Week to Week//The Progression of Movement

I am an incredibly analytical person.

I am incredibly self-reflective.

I spend much of my time pondering actions (others and my own) and reflecting on what they (I) do and what it means about their (my) personality.

I'll be honest.

Most of my thought time is spent pondering myself. Thinking about why I think the way I think, why I do what I do, and whether I feel that in the eyes of God it is an acceptable action or train of thought.

I fail at this often.

Not in the weighing whether God would be pleased or not, but that God wouldn't be pleased with what I do.

For those of you that knew me when I was in high school (and for those of you reading this [if any] that means none of you), you know I was a very different person.

I was talking to an old friend about this last night. I asked her if there was anything about myself that she thought I should fix. She told me that the one thing that she had always tried to help me mature past I had already fixed.

To a degree.

She said that she had always tried to get me to become confident, and to be confident with myself enough to not care what others thought and to just have fun.

Again, for those who didn't know me, I used to be an extremely uptight, prudish person, who was extremely self conscious. Extremely.

Many (I use that word loosely when referring to my blog readers) of you may now be making the joke "used to!?! Ha!" Whatever... :)

Seriously though. I have relaxed a lot since then. And it's because of a lot of different things that have happened to me in the last two years.

The first thing I would relate this to was my trip to Europe. I traveled to Europe the summer of 2007, right before college, with 50 people I had never met and traveled to 8 different countries in 2 weeks on a bus. Now, the company I went with was aimed at people 18-30 years old. So safe to say I was with a bunch of partiers.

Not my forte.

Still really isn't.

But I'm much different now when it comes to those types of people and those situations than I used to.

If you want to know more about this trip, I have many stories about awkward situations and funny encounters that are still very non-Nathan.

The next post-it on my descansos timeline, I would say, was my freshman year.

Specifically, my roommates.

Living with the three guys I was forced to stay with taught me a lot, and really massaged this idea into my brain of relaxation and chillness. I really attribute my recent lack of anger issues (another thing I used to struggle with a lot) and the limited patience I now have (which is still leaps and bounds more than I had before) to them.

I really had a tough time that year in my room, but now I wouldn't trade it for anything. All those long nights of asking them to turn down the TV because it was 3 in the morning and I was trying to sleep...

Sigh.

Good times.

This next pin-point is more spread out and really comes before my Europe trip and extends till today. It's also the most vague point I will make.
And this is it: love.
Various love encounters (and very much so lack thereof) have really shaped my thoughts, my emotions, and my contentment when things are out of hand (which if you read my blog semi-regularly, you know really bugs me. See "Frustrated With Rocks...").

There have been plenty of girls in the last 6 years that in one way, shape, or form taught me more than I could ever put into words and perhaps more than I will ever know.

For that, I thank you.

The last post-it would be labeled: "Surgery"

My surgery this last winter gave me so much time to chill and relax. I had to. There was nothing else for me to do. I really think that those 6 weeks changed me a lot more than I realize. As well, I think getting my jaw fixed (and more recently my braces off ) has increased my confidence and comfortability with what I look like. Which directly reflects on how I act.

Anyway, I say all of this because I realize how many mistakes I make. And how often I completely screw things up. And how much more work I have to do. I know I will never be perfect, but it is still something I have to keep in mind. Because what I do, what I say, the look I give has more of an effect than I can possibly imagine.

At Clash 'n' Bowl last week I was nominated for King and had to walk down the red carpet and show off for everyone how awful (amazing) I looked. When I was standing in line, my thought was "I have to go all out, I have to just forget all these people are watching and just have fun. I have to." So I did, to the best of my ability.

I'm not really sure if I was amazing...

Actually I know I wasn't because I didn't win. Well, that might not have had to do with my strut (though it was amazing) and more to do with the fact that when it came time for everyone to cheer for their pick, I didn't egg anyone on. Ok, I'll strut and show off but I'm not going to beg for your cheers. Sorry, I still have my pride. :) So I just stood there and smirked.

Obviously my nonchalance was not what people were looking for. But I knew that.

But I'm really proud of myself for doing it as well (or not) as I did.

But it's little things like that that I take as a victory. My next goal: dancing. I am so self-conscious about dancing in public, at dances, whatever. So my new goal is to, once again, go all out. My aim is seriously to be as carefree as Niall when he's at dances (see Josh's Wedding, sorry no link, just ask someone, he was having so much fun).

I can't do that. It's difficult for me, but I'm working on it. And I've come so far, so I'll just give it time and it'll come. Baby steps, right? (see What About Bob?)

Also, and I realize this is a huge blog, thanks for bearing with me. Well, if you have...

Anyway, I also along these same lines have been thinking about the fact that I had so many plans for this year that were canceled on me.
The first being going to England. That didn't work out. Various reasons.
Then RA. Well, I don't even want that now. Wouldn't work out. They were right not to pick me.
And then the internship at 826 Tutoring Center in Echo Park. Which again, didn't work out.

Ever since I found out that I wasn't going to have any of those things, I have wondered, "What is my next year going to be like? Should I think that this is an opening so that God can do something awesome? Or am I just putting God in a box he doesn't belong in? AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"

But I'm a fatalist when it comes to some things. "It is what it is. No worries" (see window sticker of truck in Hope parking lot, that little piece of plastic and adhesive got me through a lot of tough times).

So I don't know what this year holds. What's going to happen. But I'm interested. And I hope it's something interesting and fun, that I won't expect.

We'll see.

I'm ready.

Whenever it comes...

Thanks for listening...er reading.

Born to...Definitely Not Work at Gap

So I got a job at Gap this summer, it's only supposed to be seasonal, but my manager said that it may turn part-time depending on how their quarter goes. I went through a myriad of different emotions about the job. Somedays I love it, other days I just like it, some days it's whatever, and then frequently, I hate it. Lately it's been better, but now that school has started I realize how difficult it is to juggle two jobs (Gap and 'Brary), school, life (family, friends, eating, etc etc etc), and writing...

Writing!

AH!

I need to do that...

But anyway, Lisa Hare came to Gap a few weeks ago and she talked to my manager and if you know Lisa, you know that she is a very energetic fun person. So she mentioned to one of my managers how "great" I am, and my manager said "Yeah, he's one of our best new workers." Awesome! Right?

So I'm not sure what I would do if they offered me a part time job? Probably ultimately take it since I like getting checks for $300+. And then in addition to the brary? That's like $500 every two weeks. Not bad not bad.

Is not a bad thing if every time I do something wrong or have to ask a stupid question or feel like an inadequate worker for whatever reason, I take a little pride in it? Oh well...

So, work's fun, but we'll see.

And... Now I'm Published

Officially self published author Nathan Glen McWherter

Check out here to see the book. It doesn't say it on that page but the book is also available for FREE download. So, to find the free download link just do a quick search for "Bones of a Nightingale" or "Nathan Glen McWherter" (however, if you search for "Nathan McWherter" you won't find me, but you'll find my dad. Weird) and it'll be one of the big blue (purple? I'm color blind) buttons right there.

So, IT'S DONE!

Check it out, of course I would prefer everyone to buy a printed copy, but I don't even have money right now to have my own, so I understand.

Bones of a Nightingale Cover Done

Well, it's done. Over. Almost.

The cover's done. Six months of me talking about it, waiting for it, scouring over my 21 poems and 2 prose making them perfect (kinda), and now...well I'm closer.

Here's the cover, photos and design by Niall McCarthy.

Well, I can't seem to get the picture much bigger. The back cover says:

"Poetry is like alcohol. Both are weapons in the desperate fight to escape the agonies and tortures of life. Both, when used create madmen, inescapable confusion, and unpredictable chaos. But where a drunkard's night ends, is where a poet's night begins—with throw up. In poetry though I don't get a hang over the next morning or a crazy night I wish I could forget or hours I wish I could remember. I just get relief. The drunks have all the fun though."

And the spine says:

"All good things rise from joy and happiness, but in many cases also from pain and suffering. I fear we shall never fully understand the extent to which the former comes in the later."

So, I love it. I think it's awesome. Exactly what I want. And if you, like Niall, don't understand the picture frame and polaroid, well then you'll just have to spend $6.36 and read it. It should be done within the next few days (this time I'm serious), I just have to scour over it a bit more, make sure its near perfect. So, soon. Yay.

Please, please, please, please leave a comment and tell me what you think. Thanks.

FULL SCALE CENSORSHIP!

Well it's official.

I'm a writer.

That may sound a few years (like 22... no, 17... ok like 13) too late, but hear me out.

I now consider myself a true writer, because I have been officially censored. And not on a small scale either. It's not like "Oh Nathan, you can't say that word/sentence/paragraph. Silly writer..."

Nope this is a FULL SCALE CENSORSHIP!

And honestly, I'm proud of it all.

I tip my hat to Kelsey and Jeremy for helping me along, also I would like to thank McSweeney's, the Onion, and Mr. Twisselmann, my senior AP Lit teacher.

Honestly, those three groups helped me get to where I am, as a writer and as a censored writer.

(BTW Kelsey right now is shaking her head at me about how over dramatic I'm being about this, I don't care, I'm stoked!)

Here's the thing: I wrote last week about how I am in love with Swift's "A Modest Proposal" (still true, love that guy, love that essay), and a few months ago I thought it'd be fun to write an article in the same fashion as Swift. I had a great idea, a lot of satirical/sarcastic points to make, and the passion to pull it off.

So over the weekend I wrote out my article and text Kelse immediately to tell her how stoked I was about it, she said she was excited to read it.

Come Tuesday, I give her the article, she read it...

and she tells me we can't publish it.

Sigh.

Ok.

Kelse at first was unsure, but then Jeremy read it and enforced the idea and it was decided.

I was being censored.

Apparently the article attacks too much. Which for satire and our newspaper, and especially for the "Opinion" section is definitely a good thing, but as Jeremy said "It doesn't attack something bad, it just attacks laziness. It'd be more effective if it stung a little because what you're attacking is actually wrong." (no, that's not a direct quote, it's a paraphrase, see this is why I like blogs better than newspaper articles I can kind of make things up as I go along, AND I don't get censored).

So we talked for a bit and now I have a completely new idea for the article and it's better...I'm not going to say "a lot" better, but definitely a step up. For more information on the new article, please see the Hope International Tribune next Thursday (4/23).

So, now for your reading pleasure, I give you, "Proposing a 'Swift' and Pretty Decent Proposal: The Version They Won't Let You Read In The Newspaper, Uncut, UnCENSORED, and a little bit Unoriginal (Oops!)"

Nathan McWherter

Copy Editor and Satirist

     It is a melancholy object to those, who walk through our great school to find students of all years lying along the sidewalk, tired and worn out from the long trek across campus. After all, the legs of these great youth can only take so much; and I mean, look at the size of this campus!

     It is in light of these atrocities that I humbly propose a pretty decent proposal: that all members of the student body be given their own golf cart in order to relieve them of the tedious walk around school.

     The continuous trauma sustained by the legs during walks, I am told, has unhealthy side effects that include fatigue, aches, and perspiration. Students are stressed and overworked, and adding to this load is unconstitutional at best.

     Golf carts are nice, cushy devices that will relieve this strain. Many may see this as lazy, unnecessary, and an overall inconvenience to those who are forced to enjoy the natural recreation of walking. This is not the case however, as it is a necessity to basic human function.

     The difficulty is that the school is not built for this, thus many students will have to drive in circles and maneuver around pillars in order to get a simple ten feet away. This may take hours and could cause many students to be late, but it is a necessary evil in preserving the well being of our extremities.

     A great advantage to this proposal, however, is the possibility of circling the school parking lot and smoking. This could be misconstrued as unhealthy and against school policy, however the occupation is extremely relaxing and worth further reflection.

     As well, there can be no more glorious a sound than that of a golf cart backing up. I, in fact, have this repetitive and divinely inspired harmonic as my ringtone. I also propose that Dr. Cho create a nine-part golf cart ensemble, strictly to spread the joy found in this mechanical tone.

     Nevertheless, there are many drawbacks that need be taken into account. For instance, as with the rest of the world, rush hour will be a problem, especially in regards to the commute to chapel. We may have to build a freeway across the campus to accommodate this inconvenience. However, an acceptable solution to this problem would be the addition of a carpool lane (making the campus more green, and garnering the North West’s respect). When looking at a golf cart there are many additional areas that can sustain human weight. Of course the passenger seat would be the first choice but others may include (but are not limited to) the back bumper, the front bumper, the side rail, and of course the roof. I myself have seen each of these locations utilized around our beautiful campus.

     In addition, a parking structure may be in order to provide space for all the parked golf carts. This will call for an increase in the amount of zealous, passionate Security guards working very hard to secure our vehicles. Nonetheless, it is obvious to see they will be forced to walk, since the increase in golf cart activity will decrease the possibility of Security-golf-cart-usage. Also, as mentioned before, with the addition of a golf cart parking structure we can be sure to see much more of everyone’s favorite sport, Operations’ Native-American-Inspired-Smoke-Signal-Polo. Yeah, I know, I am excited, too.

     I regret to report that there is a minute snag to this proposal. From several reports I have read, and after numerous interviews with leading physicists, there appears to be an eventual deterioration of the leg tendons due to excessive golf cart use (in spite of the health benefits linked to smoking). My sources report that this is, of course, not due to the infrequent use of the leg muscles (as many would have you believe), but rather a rare radiation produced by the golf cart motor. Despite this frightening degeneration, scientist’s report that continued and over-use of the legs will in fact destroy the leg muscles and tendons at a much faster rate.

     I regret, yet again, that this proposal will create a nuisance to Operations and Security as they travel across our handsome school. I mean, look at the size of this campus! However, I feel that their sacrifice in this time is necessary in preserving the legs of our youth. They can walk after all.

     I admit though, in the sincerity of my heart, that if even given such a golf cart to journey with back and forth, I would decline to use such vehicle as I enjoy long walks and what others may see as “unhealthy” exercise.

Well? Comments? Agreements? Laughters?

"Proposing a 'Swift' and Pretty Decent Proposal"

(Article to come two weeks from today. In which case, on that day, this post shall be deleted as it will no longer be necessary. Sorry for the inconvenience, and heartache over a post on this blog being deleted)

To clarify, this post is to fill for the posting of my upcoming opinion piece that I am very excited about.

I have recently become enthralled by Jonathan Swift's satirical essay entitled "A Modest Proposal." So much so that I have determined to write my own satire piece (published in our fair Hope International Tribune two weeks from today) in the vein of Swift's humor and intelligence.

I accept that I shall be a mere pebble in the shadow of a monolith, though I pray to God a pretty pebble at that.

To prepare for the greatest opinion piece I shall write whilst a member of the newspaper staff* I have posted a link to Swift's essay.

Be forewarned:

- it was written in 1729 in Ireland so the spelling and sentence structure is a bit different

- it is 6 pages long when typed into Word (single spaced, 12 point, Times New Roman), that's a 12 page exegetical paper roughly

- it is meant to critique the proposals made to solve the economic crises of the time (sound familiar?) and possibly the over population issues they were dealing with

- it is completely and undeniably ridiculous in all the points it makes

- it is very long winded, though this was the style of the time, it also increases the hilarity since his sarcastic proposal is so deep and intricate

- it uses harsh language such as vermin, filth, and famine

In addition, if you do not like 18th century literature or do not wish to read that much (I would implore you to rethink this since the essay is nothing short of utter, divine, satirical glory), please enjoy many other such literary pieces that may be a bit more modern.

Some acceptable replacements may be McSweeney's or The Onion.

An example of a great article from both may be Michael Ian Black's piece on eating babies (very similar to Swift's) and that bit about the Pope, abortion, fornication, and self-gratification.

Also I'm sure you can see that I found the link button. I'm a bit trigger-happy.

In conclusion: satire rules, and no one likes babies.

*This assumes that my "French Fries...I Mean C'mon!" article will be good, but not great; it also creates a loophole for any opinion piece I write in the coming years as a freelance; and assumes (as in ass-out-of-you-and-me) that you even care about anything I write (reading my blog does not prove that to me). Also, this does not imply that "Nerd is the New Cool" was not a great article, simply that a satirical article eclipses one about nerdom, however incredible all things nerd may be.

Virtues and Fairytales...yet "Sexy"

So Kelsey Dettman text me yesterday and asked me what I was doing tomorrow (that is today) and Sunday (that is tomorrow). I said I was free most of both days. She asked me if I would be willing to "star in an awesome video that would make me the most famous person in library videos" (not her words, but doesn't that make it sound awesome?). Anyway, so I said yes.

And actually right now we're filming. I'm on my computer sitting here listening to Kelse as she explains what the video is.

It's actually really funny. She described it as "a library psa that is like a beer commercial without the beer" (those are her words, c'mon you think I could make that up?).

So the premise is that I am an "inadequate" library patron who can't find "full text articles" online, and Bethany and Angie are "sexy" (notice the quotes, haha. No I like them, kinda ;) ) librarians who laugh at me for my "inadequacy." Then a voice from above explains to me how to find "full text articles." Then both "sexy" librarians are impressed with my "full text article" and come over pulling their hair down and looking like beer commercial girls and start to "flirt" with me. I then look up at where the voice came from and mouth "thank you."

So yeah. That's what's going on literally at this moment. In fact, here's what I wrote, verbatim while we were testing my fingers typing:

"This is really cool. I’m sitting here in the International Business Office shooting a video for Kelsey’s project that is about library This is really bad grammar eveyrhting that I am writing and Kelse says I should put this in my blog. I should! That’d be awesome! Now she’s filming above my hands and it’s weird because I don’t like my hands."

That's a direct copy of what I wrote, hence everything being spelled bad. Andie don't make fun of me, I know there are grammatical problems with that section.

Anyway the only reason that I even posted this is because Kelse joked that I should be blogging while we're filming. So I am. I might attach a link to the actual video once it's done, just so anyone who read this and cared can see it. I think it's going to turn out to be pretty funny.

BTW the "full text articles" is in fact to be a penis reference. I realize that by saying penis I have made my blog explicit (ha! Yeah, no). So yes, as a clarification, "full text articles" = penis.

Bones of a Nightingale Update

For months now I have been talking about the poetry book I plan to self-publish on Lulu.com called Bones of a Nightingale. I said about three months ago that it would be done by the end of January.

Sad to say, it's not done yet. Not my fault.

Ok maybe it is.

The stumbling block is finding time. Not to write, all the poems are done, in fact all (I hope) of the formatting is done as well.

It's the cover. Niall and I went out to Ikea a month and a half ago (?) and took awesome pictures, if you haven't seen them check out the photo album "Niall Takes Pictures of Nathan" on my Facebook. If we're not friends, why the hell are you reading this?

Sorry. If we're not friends, I'm happy you're here.

Anyway.

The photos came out amazing, but Niall and I just haven't gotten around to taking the cover shot yet, which I'm actually happy for because he has been working really hard on other photos and learning how to age pictures and put really cool textures on them (if you haven't seen them go to hamskies.blogspot.com or click on "Petitioning the Open Sky" at the bottom of this blog). The aged look is what I really want for my cover, so I'm happy he's been working on that.

Niall actually told me yesterday that he plans to devote this week to me and while that hasn't happened yet, it most likely will either tomorrow or on Friday.

More to come on that.

So the title I actually really like (am I allowed to say "actually really"? Two words ending in "ly" right next to each other sound weird. Oh well, I'm the English Lit Major. As Alex says, "I do what I want!").

The title comes from two of my favorite quotes about writing. The first is from the song "The Engine Driver" by the Decemberists. It says:

"And I am a writer, writer of fictions

And I am the heart that you call home

And I've written pages, upon pages

Trying to rid you from my bones."

Originally I liked the title To Rid My Bones, but then Natalie Hewitt showed us this really cool quote by Percy Bysshe Shelley:

"A Poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds."

Thus, Bones of a Nightingale came to be. And now I'm waiting to take a picture of an empty gold-leafed frame with a gray polaroid inside.

Completely unrelated. Yet not. You'll have to read the book to understand.

And no, you cannot have a free copy. Lulu has to make money somehow.

Updates will follow. Hopefully the cover picture will be posted by Monday.

Sigh.