Akting Out

Ah, the long, difficult, and storied relationship of me and my father.  I was tremendously angry when I first started telling stories about my childhood; my father had always been so good at getting away with everything. To the world, I was the demon child, and he was the valiantly-struggling parent. So when I started writing, my goal was to make sure the world knew “the whole story”. So I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more until enough people heard me, and hated my father as much as I did.

Mission accomplished; the world knew.

But God works in mysterious ways, and as more and more people despised my father, I found myself…getting over the whole thing. Now I find myself cleaning up my own mess; explaining to people that my father isn’t quite the bastard I made him out to be on MySpace.

Now, before you call me a fraud, let me explain something; not once did I lie about anything my father put me or my mother through. What I omitted, however, was that I was not the best child. In fact, I really was a little demon, and I have the juvenile record to prove it.

Now, you can do the what-came-first-the-chicken-or-the-egg argument until the cows come home (I think I’ve been in the country too long, if phrases like that come naturally). My very first memory of my father isn’t pleasant, and I began acting out as soon as I could walk. Was my father overly strict because he didn’t want me to act out, and I rebelled? Or did I act out because I knew no other way to get attention? Truthfully, I think I acted out because I just flat-out didn’t care. None of it matters; it’s all in the past.

Amazingly, my father is about to celebrate a birthday, I’m in my thirties, and my oldest son is a slightly-out-of-control honor roll student. And a bloody teenager. Everything comes full circle.

It took me a long time-getting into my thirties-before I figured out who I was and what I wanted, and honestly, my father played a huge role in that. No one ever hit me as hard as he did. No one ever hurt me as much as he did. No one ever pushed me to the brink like he did. The real world? Other people? Please. The real fight took place at home. Home was where I was forged. Dad often used to say that I was soft, and that part of the reason why he rode me so hard was because he wanted to toughen me up.

It worked.

He taught me how to think faster. He taught me how to respond to situations faster than most people. He taught me to think for myself and stand by my actions. He taught me that the world wouldn’t give a damn about me; if I wanted to make something happen, then I had to make it happen. He taught me self-reliance.

He taught me that failure has a price. He taught me to be my hardest critic. He taught me to never stop climbing until I get to where I want to be. Inadvertently, he taught me to be acknowledge my successes (something I never saw him do) but at the same time, never become complacent. Never become satisfied. Never think you’ve learned all there is to something.

I apply my entire being to an endeavor, whether it’s the martial arts, writing, or this job I’m about to close my first week on (and not doing so bad on, so far). I don’t know how to go half-ass on anything, and I have little patience for people that do. I have no patience for people for go half-assed and then bitch and moan when they don’t get anywhere. I’m not low-key; I live out loud, I like to laugh, I like to be a bit immature at times, I like to have fun, meet new people, and experience new things. I’m wicked loyal to video games and I love being a dork. And I make no apologies for who I am.

My father has his issues-who doesn’t-but I proudly say that he kept food on the table, and every time he gave his word on something, I stopped worrying about it. I learned what that meant from him.

He may have been a colossal prick, but he’s still my father, and I’m proud to call him that. I am who I am because I was raised to be strong. I can deal with the issues.

So thanks, dad, sincerely.

And I’m doing okay.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

I’m becoming something of a news junkie, with more than five apps crowding the front page of my ipod touch. This morning, perusing the New York Times revealed an article that caught my attention, this one in my own backyard.

Every so often, I dreamt about going into politics. I think a lot of us do; who hasn’t wanted to be President and rule the world?
This article has completely dashed those fantasies; I don’t have the head for it. I’m way too straightforward for politics.

I had never heard of Mayor Funkhouser before this article, and I don’t know too much about his politics, but I feel a need to defend his stance on standing by his wife. The fact that his wife has come under fire is juvenile and outlandish to me, and because I don’t believe everything I read in the press, I’m not sure she made those racial comments. If she had, there would’ve been some comment on it in this article. Instead, what is being attacked is that she worked for him, in City Hall, for free. Oooh. Congressional hearing.

These quotes have to be from a conservative mind. Harris Wilder, who speaks for those trying to out Mr. Funkhouser, finds the presence of the Mayor’s wife outside of his office “inappropriate”. Well, Mr. Wilder, were they fornicating outside of his office? Because I can see why that could be found offensive! I mean, political power aside, no one really wants to see a couple just past middle-age rolling through city hall like a couple of teenagers.

His next quotes, to me, are so juvenile, they’re downright offensive. “Would Richie Daley do that? Would Mike Bloomberg do that? It’s just so over the top.” –(Taken from the New York Times)

Did he actually compare Mayor Funkhouser’s habits with those of two completely different people? Perhaps Mayor Funkhouser should apologize for not being more like Mr. Daley or Mr. Bloomberg, perhaps then his detractors would back off.

The Mayor’s wife has been banned from city hall, and council meetings are now held at the local library. She still works for him, but she’s not allowed to step foot where her husband works. This would probably lead to my resignation, but like I said, I don’t have the stomach for politics.

I have the utmost respect for the Mayor for standing by his wife as he wades waist-deep in the nastiest of all bullshit. From here, it appears that the man loves his wife and is being penalized for it. He admits that he was not ready for the scrutiny his job came with, and I’m hopefully optimistic that it will not be this tripe that keeps him from being elected for a second term.

My first political opinion is that it’s a no-win situation. Politicians who don’t want their families close by are accused of being unfaithful, those that do are told it’s over the top. I think it shows uncommon solidarity in this day and age when a man’s wife will stand by him and work–without pay–beside him in public office. I also think it’s to be commended that he stands by her, in turn, when she’s forced out.

I tip my hat to Mayor Funkhouser and wish him luck on the rest of his term. God help him if he forgets to flush. They may incarcerate him for it.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

It took me a long time to come to this. I’m a geek, and I have two problems because of it; number one, I’m very proud of it. Number two, and this is the big one, I honestly couldn’t care less what other people think of me.

Now, this is not in relation to anyone I know now. I’ll be honest; I went into work these past few weeks expecting to be shunned. Instead, everyone’s been pretty decent. I was pleasantly surprised by that.

Here’s what it really boils down to; someone becomes interested in me, platonically or otherwise. Things are all well and good until they find out that it’s not an act; I really do like Attack of the Show and I’m more interested in E3 than who’s on top of Britney Spears.
After that, I usually get the what-did-I-step-in treatment.

And it’s not just me; what is it about our interests that make us targets? Honestly, I would prefer to be left alone. Still, I have been derided, even called a child on occassion, because I’m a geek. At my old job, someone overheard me listening to Enya and asked me; “You don’t really listen to that crap, do you?”

No, I’m testing the batteries in my stereo and my ears to make sure they still work. Are you serious? Get the fuck out of here.

The world only ‘embraced’ me when I proved that I had a capacity for violence. What really makes me sick is that I was so desperate for acceptance that I gave into that mentality.

I’m a little older and a lot less wild; I’m proud of who I am because of what it took to bring myself here. If I’m able to teach my kids anything, I’d like to tell them to be proud of who they are, no matter what anyone else says, because if you change yourself to suit someone else, then you forfeit your identity.

As for me? I’m a geek. Deal with it.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my latest issue of ‘Wired’ came today, and I’m going to get into it. After I clean the kitchen.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

I’ve been in the Midwest for about six years now. Although I’ve been away from my native California for more than a decade, the West Coast way of life is still very fresh, and my adversarial nature used to get me in a lot of trouble out here as I refused to adapt.

I also got into more trouble here than I did anywhere else in the country. I still can’t go back to Michigan.

You don’t hear a lot about hockey, NASCAR, or hunting where I’m from; while I’m not vehemently opposed to any of that, it makes casual conversation difficult. Mostly, I sit, listen, and learn; I can now change my own oil and gut a deer.

In the end, despite the starkly different ways of life, I can’t get enough of this place. I complain and bitch and moan to my friends, but it’s mostly for show. I like it here.
Back in Michigan, in between the towns of Bad Axe and Elkton, there was a well that produced the best water I’ve ever had to date. I would drive two miles just to fill up as many bottles as I could. I recently learned that the well was artesian.

Try as I might, I just don’t worry about much here. There’s not a ton of violence here (but plenty of gossip). Beyond the occasional idiot who’s seen too much MTV, people are pretty friendly, after they get used to you.

I have to admit a slight envy at the comaraderie; everyone is somehow connected, through marriage or family. I always grin when two people are talking and mention someone that they both know, although neither of them knew that the other person knew that person…

I go through moments where I wish I was a part of it…but I didn’t grow up here, and I’m too different. I’ll always be the lone wolf, and I’ve come to be okay with that.

I like it here. I wouldn’t go back to California even if I had the chance. Yeah, it’s slower, and there isn’t much to do…but somehow, it feels like home.

And the cooking is GREAT.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

The monthly Jeff City Writer’s Meetup is the only time I can connect with similar minds in person. In addition to the emotional charge I get from the meeting, it also serves as a huge reality check.

I know a lot of writers who need to find another profession. I also know a lot of writers who leave me in quiet awe after I’ve heard/read their work. I’m always blown away by reading published that is complete and utter tripe compared to some of the gems that might never find their way onto the shelf.

Then it hits me; of all the advice I’ve ever received, there is one thing that everyone agrees on. In the end, you just have to get lucky.

You can be God’s gift to the craft, but it doesn’t mean squat unless the right person is reading your stuff. That’s the secret to a lot of these twitter tools and social networking services; the larger your network, the better your chances are of finding that one person who’s willing to take a look at your work.

It’s the ultimate gamble; you can have over fifty thousand followers on twitter, and a couple thousand facebook friends, but if no one is recommending you, then you probably won’t go anywhere.

Freaky.
So when someone tells you that you should spend just as much (if not more) time networking as you do writing, listen to them. Discount no one that may show interest, because you never know who might think you’re worth the time of day.

Best of luck to everyone trying to get published. It’s not an easy road to walk; here’s hoping all of our work pays off. Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

I was originally going to write about unrequited love. After all, that’s traditionally what “the one that got away” means, right?

Someone you once loved, but couldn’t have…

That subject got me in hot water with my girlfriend, so I thought I’d come at this from another angle. Apparently, “the one that got away” can also mean someone you would be with, if you could.

I didn’t know that. Honest.

So, another angle…

In another state, another life, a friend and I are hyped after seeing Star Wars: Episode II. So psyched are we that we immediately head to the nearest Toys’ R Us and purchase lightsabers that our favorite characters in the film use. Naturally, being the epitome of immaturity, we begin talking smack to each other en route to his car. Finally, I lay down the penultimate challenge; “You can’t beat me.”

Right then, right there.

It becomes a race as we furiously discard the packaging, remove the casing, and insert the batteries (doesn’t everyone carry a screwdriver in their pocket just to insert batteries into their lightsaber?). With quick whipping motions, and the push of a button, we’re a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

I’ve been trained in how to use a sword; it’s usually given me an advantage when I have a sparring partner. Not today; part of the reason why we’re friends is because neither of us ever give up.

It is an epic match of give and take, one of the most thrilling lightsaber duel I’ve ever had (and I’ve had a lot). We back each other up until we’re back in the Toys R’ Us, completely oblivious to the summer shoppers, who I’m sure were scrambling out of our way.

We stab, deflect, and parry our way in a frenzied pace throughout half the store, garnering an audience. Moments are intense; I knock the blade away from him, he kicks me in the chest, buying himself enough time to recover. I use martial arts, throwing kicks to get him off balance and he’s so much more agile than me I might as well be fighting Spider-Man.

Not only could either of us gain an advantage, neither of us could land a fatal blow.

Apparently, we garnered a crowd of excited children, bewildered parents, and employees had hadn’t the slightest idea of what to do. Someone whispered; “Someone should call security!” to which someone immediately countered; “No! Let ‘em fight!”

It came to a head in the bike aisle. We were so engrossed in the conflict, and so frustrated with each other…we had taken our game to new heights for this. I lunged at him, he sidestepped and went for a killing blow aimed at my head. I ducked, the lightsaber caught a pink bike on the row above us, and somehow it came loose, landing neatly, without much fanfare, right in between us.

Then we became aware of the outside world. Awkward.

We were permitted to leave-and never allowed to return.

Our friendship endured beyond that, although we both promised one day we would settle things, once and for all. People like us never leave a fight unfinished.

But time moved us in different directions. I’m here, he wound up moving down South; he’s married with a family now.

If I have to pick one that got away, it would be him. It’s the only fight I have ever left unfinished.

I would also like to take this moment and say I am extremely grateful that I’m even able to attract a member of the opposite sex.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

I have to admit something, and I’m gonna eat a little crow here.

When Hugh Jackman was initially selected to portray everyone’s favorite “moody little cuss”, I was skeptical. Wolverine is short and stocky, Hugh Jackman is not. What really sent off the alarms was a scene in the first X-Men when Wolverine and Storm (Halle Berry) had an exchange. Wolverine asked her; “You sure you’re on the right side?”

Call me nitpicky, but Mr. Jackman enunciated that sentence much more than Wolverine would have. I walked away with mixed feelings.

Watching Mr. Jackman take on Wolverine’s Berserker Rage in X2 swayed me a bit. He also seemed a little more at home in the role. I haven’t seen X-Men 3 enough to make an opinion (shameful, considering I own the movie).

But in X-Men Origins, even the most cynical naysayers are laid to rest. Mr. Jackman, aided by a well-written script (in most places) turned out the most plausible Wolverine I’ve ever seen on the big screen.

Gavin Hood’s direction is taut and carries the film well, and he handles Logan’s emotional grapples as skillfully as the action sequences. I was finally glad to see Mr. Jackman get lines that fit the character, and he delivered them perfectly; Logan’s words seem to fight their way out of his mouth, and most of his speech is low, and grumbly; Wolverine never did need words to make his point.

The biggest surprise, for me, was Liev Schriber in the role of Wolverine’s arch-nemesis. The man nailed the role, no questions asked; as Victor Creed, he was just plain menacing, and I think fans will love every moment of it.

The movie has a great opening sequence and it’s final battle is honestly something I hadn’t seen before. Hugh Jackman and Liev Schriber play off each other very well.

The only disappointment, if I could call it that, was that Gambit felt like an extra, more than a supporting character. Even then, he didn’t get nearly enough screen time.

Overall, I loved this movie, I want to see it again, fanboys shouldn’t be disappointed, the wait was well worth it. Great movie.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

Here’s a hard-hitting dose of reality.

I pulled this from the incredibly informative Creative Penn. All writers need to bookmark the site; the info she dispenses is invaluable. You can also follow her on twitter @theCreativePenn.

A woman sold seventy-five thousand copies of her book and landed in the top twenty of the New York Times Best Seller list. Both of those are accomplishments in and of themselves, but you know how much money this woman netted from her books? ZERO. Not one red cent.

This is unfathomable to me. I knew that I hadn’t picked an easy dream to follow, but how does one reach that level of success and not have any money to show for it?

My first thoughts after reading this article was; this is why I’m more inclined to self-publish. I’m not saying that every publisher in the world is evil, but this article, to me, is horrifying.

I’m not doing this to get rich; I just want to do it full time. The bigger the dream, the harder the work. I’m all for keeping my day job, working fourteen-hour days, and forgoing any advances if it means I can net at least something when/if my book hits the shelves.

I know that very, very few authors make it, especially in this day and age. Normally, I would come back with something brash and cocky as to why I’ll beat the odds…but the truth is, that article is humbling, street-confidence is much easier than real-world confidence.

What I can say with all certainty is that I believe in what I’m doing, I have beaten the odds on countless occasions, and I do not quit, no matter what.

Only a fool believes they cannot fail. For me, the harder it gets, the harder I try…and maybe I write this to reassure myself more than anything else, but I’ve waited my entire life to get to this point, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give it up without a fight.

And so, I begin work on Chapter Twenty: Lucifer, and prep my next blog.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

It’s Friday! After struggling all week with my dwindling food supply, I look forward to getting paid for some of the freelancing work I’ve done lately. After some minor problems, I’m able to apply the fund to my account.

Less than an hour later, I’m at the local Wal-Mart and I have to say; I had forgotten how much racial tension is in this part of town. I don’t get out so much so it’s easy to forget the entire world outside of the internet. It’s raining; an elderly woman wipes down a shopping cart and passes it to me without looking up. I thank her, at which point she turns, looks me up and down, turns away, and grumbles “You’re welcome.”

This was the highlight of the day.
Hoping to catch a later showing of XMen Origins: Wolverine, I quickly round up all of my groceries and head for the express lane. The grand total is well below what I projected, and things are starting to look up.

Then the card doesn’t go through.
It happens rarely, when funds haven’t been on that long. I try it again, to no avail. The cashier is more forgiving than the line that is forming behind me. We try to ring it up as a credit card; no luck. I can feel everyone glowering at me, and as I turn and apologize, I’m suddenly grateful that I’m so big.

I step to the side and text my card issuer. Surprise, surprise; my balance is a little more than ten dollars. There goes the day.

Oh, no, wait, it gets better.
I furiously pick and choose between my groceries and my ride takes me home. I drop everything once I’m inside and look up my most recent transactions. What I see nearly gives me Bruce Banner syndrome; someone, today, has authorized a forty dollar charge for something called cams4fee.com.

Even more disconcerting is that this is the third time in two months this has happened. Luckily, the CSR is decent, and the matter is resolved. I should have my money back within the next couple of days.

Blessedly, my girlfriend sends me enough money to get through the weekend–and is okay with me using her hard-earned funds to go see Wolverine–tomorrow.

When I go back and read over this, the day wasn’t a complete waste; I lost a little money, but I’ll get it back, Molly was kind enough to pick up the slack for me, I was able to get food in the house, and I’ll still be able to go see the movie tomorrow.

I still don’t have a lot to complain about…but man, what a day.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.