Friendly Communication: Body, Voice, and Mind

     Communication is an important part of living. Especially as a writer, too. You're going to meet lots of new, and possibly intimidating, people, and whether you're a writer or not, it's best to approach someone in a certain way. Looking at animals, body language is very detrimental to communication; when a dog's in fight-or-flight mode it's teeth are bared, and its hackles are raised. The same thing works with humans. We might not snarl, or raise our necks when angry--scary image, I know--so the question is how do we use our language, spoken and physical, to send a clear message to a peer or co-worker?
     At work, I meet with a lot of students from many different backgrounds. Some are native speakers, and it's easier to communicate, while others can be transfer students from different levels of education--or even different cultures! I try to keep myself open to whatever comes, and keep myself open and friendly.
     Being open and friendly doesn't just mean keeping a smile glued on. It means carrying a certain composure. If I were to walk up to another writer, published or not, things would go much smoother in introductions if I were standing straight, keeping eye contact, and my hands arms were visible at all times; furthermore, if I was to greet them screaming, arms crossed, and possibly one hand behind my back, I could be taken as a threat. Of course it's an exaggeration, but it works.
     When I meet the student, no matter what background, I greet them with my name, a soft, friendly tone, and arms out and seen. I make eye contact, but don't stare into them to find the inner-direction of their soul's desires. Tutoring, I sit down, turned slightly towards them, and I'm a foot away as to not hover on them. If standing, I would be at an angle, as well; sitting or standing directly in front of a person can be seen as off-putting and tense. I don't cross my arms, and if I get comfortable in my chair, I might sit in a relaxed way. Standing comfortably, if that were the situation, you would loosen up and not be so tense.
     To give an example, police-officers crouch low to speak with a child when they're hurt, upset, scared, or just conversing. This puts the officer at level with the child and takes away the image of someone stern and intimidating. Another would be when someone's dealing with an angered person; people can be upset for many reasons, such as the child, but speaking with open posture and gestures, and a soft tone (not too soft, though. You don't want to come off as condescending), the situation could be lowered into an understanding discussion of the situation.
     I was tutoring a student today, and with her final draft due the following week, she was stressed for perfection. It's common to see these situations. It's even more common to see it when the paper is due the next day, so I came into the session letting her know we had time to work on it. I kept my tone soft, and I pulled myself away from the tutoring sheet and red pen (I would go back to take notes, but a red pen is something we all know as a horrible thing inflicted on us in grade school, so space worked out there). The situation was lowered, but she was stressed that her examples in the paper spoke on their own, not needing discussion to explain. I grew comfortable, so I lifted my legs onto the chair, sitting on my thigh.
     "With essays," I started, "the reader's coming in for information."
     She didn't look at me, but she stared at her essay.
     "In fiction, the reader works to use their imagination and put themselves in the story. Here, however, we want to do the opposite and show the readers step by step how this example relates to everything."
     "But it should stand on its own," she said.
     I discussed it further with some examples, and she had a better understanding. The situation would have been much more stressful if I raised my tone and did something as simple as turned away, or crossed my arms.
     Having open body language and a friendly outflow of discussion creates positive socialization. The use of negative tone, raised volume, or acting intense, direct, and even mean can have repercussions whether in simple speech or professional settings. This works with writing as well, but without the use of body-language; the tone and direction you take in communication is what your audience will use to assess the situation. Whether you're working on campus with just-as-stressed students, or at home with your parents, communicating in a outflow of positive vibes can make even the most direct and negative situations into something approachable.

A Bittersweet Return

     After a week of being away in San Jose, I have returned to sunny Southern-California, where the temperature on arrival was eighty degrees and the sinus just punched me in the nose. It feels good to be back in my own bed, with my laptop whirring underneath my fingers. I missed it, and I certainly missed my usual writing schedule.

     The convention went very well. I arrived anxious and stressed, making sure my itinerary was followed to the margin, but ended up relaxing and resting my eyes on the train. Eventually, I met up with a friend's boyfriend in San Francisco. We dropped off our things at the house, then hung around the city until my friend came home from work. Until the late hours of the night, we worked to help prepare her art table for the weekend.

     We arrived in San Jose the next day, and my blood-pressure was through the skylights. The convention takes place within a hotel, and throughout the many corridors, elevators, and the large, adjacent Convention Center next door, the energy of excitement flows through each guest. When the next day came, that feeling was multiplied, and it continued to grow.

     The artistry I see at these events is amazing. Each year, no matter what location, I find myself surprised, excited, and entertained with the things people create, whether in fiction, or digital art and paintings. I look at my friend, Christine Knopp, and constantly question how she does half the things she does. I remember that people the same way about us writers--I don't even know how I do what I do.

     During the day, I met with the folks at Sofawolf Press, the team who has welcomed me to their literature magazine with open "paws." I discussed a bit with Jeff Eddie, and can't wait to work with him on my short-story. I also had to pick up a copy of Divisions, by Kyell Gold--signed, too!

     But with the weekend over, everyone returned home to their family, pets, and loved ones, I'm back to work and writing. My novella is towards the end, and will need heavy revision when the time comes; some of the big plot points need to be looked at and decided whether or not they fit. I have several short-stories revised and edited, too. I'm not sure where to send them, but I'll find somewhere, even if it means I pay Duotropes new fee policy. 

     It's always a hard time returning back to reality, but I plan to return to the convention with high expectations, and maybe with a few more stories published.

     

2013: Good Vibrations

     Being a little late never hurt anyone, or that's at least what I'm told constantly. The holidays went well, and New Years started off on a great note: dental appointments are half-way taken care of, my novella is close to having its first draft completed, and my life is just brimming with positive vibes.
     A couple of things are coming up, though. School has once again started at Mt. San Antonio College, so I've been brought back to the Writing-center as a tutor; I'll be working morning shifts, keeping my head in the game of writing. Also, starting next week on Wednesday, I will be out of town at Further Confusion, a fan-driven arts convention in San Jose, California. The event hosts writers, artists, costumers, and musicians, all within the convention-center and adjacent two hotels. I've also submitted one story to the con in their program book; I won't be told if I'm in it until I have the book in my possession and can read my story. If so, I'll bring a few copies home. The convention hosts panels, too, where attendees can learn, instruct, or introduce themselves. I plan to attend several writing ones, just to get names out there and talk shop. The convention lasts until Monday, and is open to the public; however, membership to visit the dealer's hall, panels, shows, and dances is around 50$!
     Other than that, I'm keeping life at a low hum of energy. Classes for the next Spring semester start February 25th, and until then I will keep busy by writing, of course, and keeping fit. The family's interested in getting a membership at the YMCA, and I'm all for it--I live better in the swimming pool than I do on dry land. My mail will play host to monthly-or-so care-packages between me and my girlfriend in Florida, so I will also spend time looking through my knick-knacks for various Disney themed trinkets.
     The year's started off so well, but let's work towards a brighter tomorrow!
  

The Sensations of Christmas

After a long year of emotion and tears, I've made my way once again to the Disneyland Resort in Anaheim, California. We left at seven thirty in the morning, bundled up beneath Chino's fall breeze, and arrived, jackets off, in a surprisingly warm Disneyland. We were forced to bus over to the park, too, due to the massive holiday crowds. Annual passholders have the freedom to visit whenever they want, and especially during the season, so we weren't surprised when the wait times were large, and everyone gets into the holiday spirit, or, at least the idea of it.
     But we managed to dodge the waits. The most popular, E-ticket attractions were our first goal, and minus the space themed roller-coaster, and the famous Pirates of The Caribbean, we made our goals. We were eating lunch when we realized the theatre we were eating in had several more groups of people; leaving, open sidewalks, stores, and attraction lines were filled to capacity. Where did they all come from?
     The rest of the day was spent hunting for a ride, or some place to sit, but every location we spotted was taken and filled. The churro booth--with the infamous eight dollar stick of sugar--had a line that could only compare to a class registration line back at our campus--so sad, too bad, but come back later. My phone was dying, so these wait times were becoming more of a hindrance than a relaxing breath.
     My sister, a mother of one boy, called my brother to let us know she was on her way. The day was over around four thirty, so we hunkered to wait, but there was a commotion towards the front of Main Street U.S.A.. Moving to the front of the park, it was obvious, now: Disneyland was hosting their Candlelight Processional, a seasonal tribute to the holiday season with a reading from the Bible, depicting the first Christmas with a symphony orchestra and a large, boisterous choir. I knew the processions were hosted by a celebrity, so it wasn't a surprise such an event was popular, asides from the music. We crawled under the standing-room rope and waited for an hour to watch the hour long mass and performance--it was worth it.
     Choir performers marched down a darkened main street, candles in hand, filling the streets with amazing songs of Christmas, such as Noel and Silent Night. When they arrived to the train station, the greased-up, make-shift stage, the orchestra sounded fanfares over the parks and played along with the choir's lyrics. Once placed on the staircase of the station, our celebrity narrator, John Stamos, was announced, and he begun to read, stopping several lines to allow a song in from the orchestra and choir. I found it beautiful; however, everyone around me, mother included, was in tears.
     The performance took an hour, and each song built to the final performance of the Hallelujah chorus, rejoicing in the birth. Once finished, John Stamos began to discuss Disneyland, and its impact on him through life, acting, and raising a family. It took an emotional turn, when Stamos stated we were in a tough time at our nation's history, and we need to keep in mind the children in Connecticut, along with those few teachers, who lost their lives, and unlike us, will be unable to enjoy the magic of Disneyland, Christmas, and opening up presents with their families, ever again--I lost it. For Disney, the event was something I would have never expected; we see the animation company as one, while taking note of the tough times in life and growth, stands to an extent distant from touchy subjects, but this felt real. Observing the beauty of Christmas, stories of religion, and taking into mind the worst moments in our nation, giving silence to them in thought, Disney has shown me a new side, that while it might have always been there, I have never fully seen asides the eight minute introduction to the film, "Up." It wasn't just the audience in tears as John Stamos, too, stopped for a moment to calm himself.
     Disney and their theme-parks are not only moving to our nation's change of culture and problems, but adapting to it. Disneyland has always been a special place in my life for how they treat their guests and the holiday season. While expensive, the price of admission, to me, is well worth it, for they continue to hold not only great attractions and shows, but memorable, emotional events that can not compare to any other theme-park in the world. Even if it was crowded, me and my family had a great time, and enjoyed an event that is new to us, but we hope to return to in the future. Also, we never got to meet John Stamos; there were enough women in the audience, screaming, to let us know he, too, would be missed.

(my mother, myself, and my twin brother).

From my family to yours, we wish you a happy, safe holiday, and a glorious new year.

Five Guilty Pleasures

     Even when being regimental, treating my life like a business, I like to spoil myself from time to time. Spending day after day eating oatmeal, working out, writing a certain word limit, and going to bed before twelve gets a little old after a while; I'm only twenty, yet I treat myself like a forty year old jarhead. Everyone needs a little vacation and fun, even if just from your usual routine.

5. Chili cheese fries with pastrami and extra cheese from The Hat, Upland, California.

     While The Hat is a location known by most of southern California, I enjoy visiting the one on Central in Upland, California. It's at the base of the mountain, and like the rest, they really know what they're doing with their fast food. And they should--the pastrami is thick and juicy, with just enough mustard to modify the flavor; the counter has trays of chili peppers and a variety of sauces, free to pick; and everyone works at a fast pace, but keeps a smile on as they assist you. The chili fries are my favorite mostly due to the amount they give you--how many fast-food chains give you a mound of chili and potatoes in a cardboard drink container? Not only that, but you can order it modified, and add extra chili, cheese, or even spill some of their famous pastrami on top. When the weather's cold enough, and I feel a hunger that can only compare to a pregnant woman, I visit The Hat to make sure I'm well fed for hours.

4. Playing my X-box 360 until the morning hours.
     When I first received an X-box 360 for Christmas, I wouldn't let the damn thing go. But with my rising interest in writing, and hours at the Writing-center, I hardly get to play it anymore. I purchased Resident Evil 6, the next edition to the zombie horror gaming title, around October, and I just finished it two nights ago. If I need time to vent, or it's well deserved, I treat myself to gunning down monsters, swinging over Gotham, or just causing mass havoc until I hear the roosters. Anyone else pre-order Grand Theft Auto V?

3. Sleeping in
    Who doesn't enjoy laying in bed under layers of blankets, cat at your side, with the alarm clock shut-off and out of the mind? Of course, I make sure to get up before twelve; while it's fun to sleep a little longer than usual, I do have medication to take. Tuesdays and Thursdays, however, are restricted from sleeping in, since those are the days I work out and need the recovery time. But, let's just forget about Monday's schedule.

2. Barnes and Nobles
     On Friday nights, I drive over to The Shoppes in Chino Hills to visit their large bookstore. While the family is running amok around the shopping center, I just dawdle around the store, picking my way from the magazines, to the graphic novels, then on to the literature. Usually, my time is around an hour or more. It's just a nice, relaxing way to end the week.

1. Playing with the cats using a laser pointer.
     It's seen as mean, or a form of teasing by some, but I'm guilty of making them run up the walls and around the house, going bonkers for a red dot. Animals are a great way to de-stress and know that someone not only cares for you, but needs you to care for them. Just open up a can of cat food, let them curl up on you, have a place high up to sit, and they'll love you! Note to self: buy batteries for the laser pointer.

Spooks, Spectors, And Nonsense

     As the days grow colder, the nights much darker, it's easy to feel that holiday cheer warm your heart. Hot  Cocoa, warm fires, and the pleasing glow of a neighbor's obnoxious lawn decoration. But I'm not here to talk about that.
     Even with the season of giving upon us, my interests still fall into the category of creepy and eerie: the paranormal. A few posts ago, as well as the large discussion of why I write, seen on my blog, I mentioned my interests in ghosts. They're the unknown figures that stand in the hallway late at night; the watchful eye over your shoulder even later at night, or even the hand that grabs you during the day, and turning to look you find no one there (let's at least hope you find no one there. Society's full of creeps these days).
     But it's not the fear that draws me. It's the idea of a possible living, once-breathing creature still roaming Earth, unknown and unexplainable. While that does tie into the fear, it only draws me in further, and forces me to discuss the activities present with others. Of course, that's easier said than done--who wants to talk about ghosts other than that one guy?
     My interests started as a kid at my grandparent's home. It was on the edge of East Los Angeles, and each night there would be the occasional footstep, creak, or even shudder. Of course, our grandpa enjoyed staying up during the night, and he did drink, doing random stuff at random times, but most of the time it wasn't home--all the times I stayed up it wasn't him. Other than that, my time with the paranormal was restricted to television specials on Travel Channel, which, believe me, were far better than some bro's swearing at ghosts and laughing at each other.
     But then I got into acting, which allowed me to travel to well-known, and sometimes old, desolate places. We filmed a deleted-scene for Constantine in the pool of the KnickerBocker Hotel in Hollywood, California, which has reports of Marylin Manroe's spirit appearing all over the hotel in lobby mirrors and upstair rooms. On one cold night I was filmed at the Universal Backlot, and footsteps could be heard where no one else was walking. I was able to visit places I had only heard of being haunted, and it gave me a rush.
     After a few years, my family and I started to take trips to San Francisco, which is such a beautiful, regal city--but it's haunted, too. I've always wanted to go across the bay to the prison, Alcatraz Island, but they would have to pry me away from the island by my cold, dead hands. On the way home from the bay, we always stop by The Winchester Mystery House, a towering feat of architecture built by the blueprints of spirits.

The house was owned by Sarah Winchester, and, supposedly due to the spirits of her father's company, she was forced to build the house in odd, difficult pathways, confusing the spirits.

     Believe what you feel on its construction, the home itself has had many visitors arrive and encounter paranormal occurrences. During the one hour, above ground tour, we were at the part of the mansion that was destroyed during the San Francisco earthquake. Part of the house had crumbled, as well as had a fire, but eventually it had been rebuilt until Sarah Winchester's death--it still remains unfinished to this day. While in that wing of the manor, a fan, plugged into the wall, stopped suddenly, turning off. Nothing else was affected--lights, etc--and upon leaving that spot, the fan started to spin again. Another year, me and my mom took the behind-the-scenes tour, which forces you to wear hardhats and travel underneath the home. It was creepy, but upon reaching a certain room, where the sun should have beamed through the glass, warming us, we all were hit with a solid cold breeze out of nowhere, the room shivering. "Cold spots," as investigators title them, are a sign of spirits entering a room, or being present. The tour continued on, and that spot was never cold again when we came back--as it should, having no air vents or open windows.

     In my own home, I've experience walking in to find my dumbbell weights stacked vertically on my chair; I've woken up to find my bed sheets tugged away and at the other side of the room; I've walked outside my room, late at night, to feel someone sitting in the living room, staring at me, watching me in the darkness before sending me back to my room, still feeling followed. 

     Nothing has happened for the past two years, and I'm thankful for that--I like my ghosts, but not as much as I love my sleep. I've been looking into visiting The Queen Mary, a haunted cruise ship in Long Beach, California, and spending the night in one of their haunted hotel rooms. For now, however, my time with the paranormal is kept mostly to my stories, looking for ways to creep others out and to further understand them. Who knows, by writing more eerie, mind-racing horror stories, I might bring some spirits over to visit me. I just hope they know and follow my sleep schedule.

Finals--Chaos And a Word-processor

     Working in the Writing-Center, it's a lie to say we don't notice the holiday chaos. The computer lab has been at, if not completely, near full capacity; the tables, reserved for one-on-one tutoring, are filled with papers, laptops, and every type of pen and pencil, making the center look as though there was a massive printing deadline at the Campus's Journalism department, but it's not the Journalism department--it's the entire school It's the end of the Fall semester at my community-college, and students are hunkering down, cogs spinning, working towards the end with a final push for the questionably well deserved A+. 
     As another student, I make sure I wake up with enough time to shave and make myself presentable, record and go over the day's plan, review any writing or revision notes I have for stories, and ultimately scarf down a boiling bowl of burnt oatmeal before the clock hits 8:05 A.M..
     The drive is pleasant, and my twin-brother, manning the radio, makes sure there's enough music to keep it interesting. Parking isn't an issue anymore; at the beginning of the semester, the lot, and street, would be filled at 8 A.M.. Once I get to school and set into the greatest parking spot in the world, and situated for work at the center, I have no idea what goes on outside the doors.
     Today, It took me until after my first shift to remember that I had a math final this upcoming Monday and I would need my shift covered; it took me until my final shift to remember I even had a twin-brother. The constant barrage of students, each with their reasons why the paper's due tomorrow, and they are barely drafting a thesis, boggles the mind, and forces us tutors to keep quick and adaptable. We're kind, understanding, nurturing people, and if we weren't then by God we shouldn't be tutoring. It's not just the students, however, caught in this mad frenzy, but we too are affected by this rush.
     Some of us could be on our breaks, or in-between shifts, crumpled away in the break-room, studying or reworking a thesis paper. Others of us dash to the computer-lab on these off times before a computer could be swiped--respectfully, of course--hurrying to type up the next essay, story submission, and lab-report. The winter mindset has befallen us all, and turned the population of college students into ravenous creatures.
     By the time I return home, I'm dead tired, and forced to scribe out around 50 equations of Algebra before I can write. When I hit the word-processor, nothing comes out but dull ideas, unoriginal plots, and dialogue that could make the writer's of the recent Twilight films into Shakespearian poets; tutoring, let alone School, is a mind-numbing, creativity-sucking time of the year. With the holiday season in swing, it's just two more weeks and we'll be home safe and free. The idea of presents, Christmas lights, cookies, and emasculating drinks at Starbucks just thrills the inner young-adult inside me.
     Whatever your profession be--tutor, teacher, professor, writer, student, parent--good luck and enjoy your holidays; be grateful for what you have, the time spent together with friends, and the hard work you put towards your passions and studies.


But don't even get me started on Winter Intercession.