Warp Drive

Thursday, January 17, 2019

Conrad the Healer

INTRODUCTION

I reckon you've heard of the name Conrad Sheldon; else you wouldn't be here. Everyone in Hicksville knows his name. He was born with a rare learning disorder. All throughout his days, he was licked in every task by no fault of his own. He struggled as he might to spell, but he served his purpose well.

You see, Conrad Sheldon had a heart of pure gold. Most folks, well, they never back down from a fight. Conrad was different. Conrad would face a fight with a kind of innocence about him. Some of them folks wrote it off as mere ignorance. Conrad just sought to share in his love of life. He knew nothing of resentment. Hicksville is a better place having known him.

If you should permit me the time, I'll tell you more about Conrad Sheldon.

What was that? The next bus out of Hicksville aint for another three hours yet. Sure, we have plenty of time. Allow me to start from the beginning...

CHAPTER 1: FARTHER SON

Part 1: Reintroduction

Conrad Sheldon was born to Roy and Petunia Sheldon of Sunnybrook Lane. Roy, the only son of a Jewish household, and Petunia, a devout Catholic. They weren't always in agreement with one another, but they knew in their hearts that which was best for their children.

Their daughter, Vespa, was born a few years after Conrad, and by that point, Roy had taken a job as a high school math teacher. He grew ever more curious with computers. They were but a strange contraption to most folks at the time, but he desired to understand them more fully.

Roy eventually mastered a multitude of programming languages. A skill that would prove most useful to Conrad in his own quest to understand the world around him. With the help of his father, Conrad might even live out the fantasy of a king.

Monday, December 26, 2016

Just Another Day Postmortem

Just Another Day was a work of semi-fiction. Actual events blended with fiction. If you should find a few truths along the way, that is okay.

Just what the hell happened in Just Another Day's final chapter?

I get asked this question a lot. Like, three whole people already! Just Another Day came about in the aftermath of two sudden losses. My uncle and aunt passed away just a week apart in the spring of 2014. Not very long after which, a rather severe debate engulfed much of the family on Facebook. I eventually took it upon myself to quit the service. I would come to find solace in creative writing. I have always admired the serenity of Japanese culture and wanted to tell a story that began there. As the story came into fruition, it became clear that I myself was Aratana Hajimari - I myself would die that day. Nobody wants to picture their own death, but it presented me with an interesting writing challenge. Just how would I process everything in my final hours on Earth? And what ultimately caused my fatal heart attack? It led to a somewhat horrific third chapter. I knew that I would have to deal with something difficult. More difficult than my own death. The story sadly dictated the revelation that my eldest brother, Patrick, had passed away a year earlier. Having lived in Japan for twenty-something years, I had naturally lost touch with the family. It weakened my heart enough to become the catalyst for my own death later in that chapter. Foreshadowing can sometimes be a bitch.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Psychoeducation: The First Grade

I recently discovered my IEP papers from elementary school and was quite shocked by some of the things I found. I was always a relatively average child according to everyone I knew and spoke to, but as I entered Kindergarten and then Grade 1, I began to exhibit serious emotional problems. I have very few memories from this time, but I do recall being reminded by my parents of a few incidents. One of which left a custodian hospitalized. The following stories come from the staff of Orchard Dale Elementary the month of and month following Easter, 1989. I was six years old. I must warn everyone, it is quite intense!

I am sharing these stories in an effort to show I have nothing to hide. I made some serious mistakes as a child, more severe than most children, but I am certainly not the only one who ever gave in to impulsive actions or judged others before they knew all the facts. If we are to truly become better people, we need to focus on the strengths of others, not their weaknesses. I wish I could comfort the people in these stories. Chances are, however, they would not remember me. It was twenty-seven years ago, after all.