Being home indefinitely has caused some searching. Ancestry.com filled a void. Now I've a lot of questions and dead ends from where my research started and now has stalled.
Primary 2 questions are regarding:
1) James Gordon, father of James and Jane
2) Emmor Bales, husband of Mary Timberlake
My mother thinks ancestry is a waste of time. She thinks I should be painting the walls in my basement, though we never sanded the the first round of mud.
Drywalling isn't something I know much about thus I am not in a rush to do it worse than I already have done. My better half thinks the walls should be near perfect regardless of it being a BASEMENT.
I like to daydream about tiny houses. Sure I'll have a man cave eventually, but having a place separate from the actual house seems refreshing. Of course, I can't build anything until I am done with the current house needs... hence it's just daydreaming.
My 17 year old hasn't gotten his driver's license. I've been with him many, many hours to drive, but he never really progresses beyond being slightly better than my mother, who absolutely scares me when she's driving. He's taking the test again in a month. He's probably going to be 18 before he gets his license if he fails again.
For my birthday, I bought a thatching machine. It seems cheaply made, so I got an extended warrantee.
I'm all about warranties since nothing is made to last anymore.
Having a green lawn is a process. I kill weeds, but various ugly types of grass take over the yard along with thatch and moss. Using the thatcher will mean less strain on my hands and shoulder. I'm not as young as I once was and CANNOT work with my hands for extended periods of time.
In a perfect world, I will have a finished basement and a green lawn. I will take better care of myself and have better hobbies that will add meaning to my day.
Sports on tv isn't as much as my daily life as it once was. Probably because Pirates, Steelers, Penguins and OSU football have been disappointing the last few years.
I look forward to the day I have a desk and can write an hour every day. I've ideas and such that could be compiled into a book.
Ancestry has prompted me to wonder how and why did my ancestors end up in OHIO. Nothing against Ohio, but it's not Florida, California, Texas or anywhere people go for an extended vacation.
I've three kids that I would like to know things I wish I had known, yet I find myself unable to really talk to them, because they are kids and don't understand what I mean. I am a lousy explainer, it seems, so when I'm gone, I want them to know my intentions.
Scott Adams wrote a book about failing and succeeding as a result of not giving up on trying. I would like to fictionalize a self improvement scenario that infuses whimsical elements of The Philosophy of Andy Warhol with a William S. Burroughs or Kurt Vonnegut story structure, but will be potentially be readable like Kerouac's On the Road.
I started writing a novel 25 years ago after reading Naked Lunch. I figured I could write something better until I went to a family reunion and was talking with my dad's first cousin and brother when they said writing is hard because of character development. Mine all lacked depth. They were linear casual events on a page who did things, not much unlike Richard Linkater's Slacker.
I don't like being around people in the sense I feel awkward or bored or things that make being around groups internally unpleasant, so developing characters is hard for me, since I really only know how things relate to me. I am not exactly a normal person, I am told.
Lolita is a book written in a way that incorporates an insane narrative that isn't really obvious at first.
I've a novel in me to write. Just not sure how I want it to be, exactly. Not sure I want anyone to know I wrote something, either.
J.D. Salinger died a while back and had unpublished work. Whatever happened to those works?
