The Journal of his Delights

My job will occasionally have me researching into something I know nothing about. This is super-cool, because research into random stuff is something I enjoy. And it’s one of the best perks of being a writer as far as I’m concerned.

In this case, it’s not completely random, since the research is often on some issue that’s important to a client NGO/NPO. Since I’m doing the work anyway, I thought it might be interesting to share some of what I find with visitors to this site. I figure I’m not the only one with an interest in… well… everything. To start things off, I’ll talk about the GI Bill.

When World War I ended, discharged veterans got little more than a $60 allowance and train ticket home. Frankly, I can’t imagine the horror of surviving the gas attacks and trench warfare, only to come home to such a miserly and ungrateful welcome. Even worse, the Great Depression was just around the corner, and many veterans found themselves out of work and desperate.

Congress tried to make amends by passing the World War Adjusted Act of 1924 (also called the Bonus Act), but the bonus was structured like a bond and veterans wouldn’t see a dime for 20 years!

In the spring of 1932, a group of 17,000 veterans got together and (with their families and supporters) marched on Washington. This “Bonus Army” wanted their money immediately when it was most needed. They camped out outside the city, but the “real” army was called in to clear them out. Things went horribly wrong - the camp burned, two veterans were killed, and two infants died from tear gas asphyxiation.

In the aftermath of World War II, Congress very much wanted to avoid this kind of tragedy. Not to mention the desire to avoid a similar kind of post-war social and economic downturn. Thus was born the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944 (more commonly known as the GI Bill).

The GI Bill completely paid for the tuition, text book costs, and living stipend for eight million veterans while they went to college. Another important feature was a low interest, zero down payment home loan. The Veterans Administration backed nearly 2.4 million home loans for World War II veterans. In essence, the program was an amazing act of social engineering. As a result, the government bolstered the creation of the U.S. middle class, shifted the urban/rural geography by providing the means for “white flight” to the suburbs, and instigated a whole set of knock-on effects for the offspring of returning vets. A 1988 Congressional study showed that every dollar spent on educational benefits under the War War II GI Bill added seven dollars to the United States economy in terms of productivity and tax revenue.

Subsequent GI Bills have been shadows of the original with nothing like the original’s effects. The current GI Bill, for example, barely pays for 60% of a public university education, and text books and living stipend are not included. There’s even a kind of buy-in of $1200 that is non-refundable, even if you never use the program. It’s gotten to the point where many veterans forego the benefits even if they’ve paid into it.

While I don’t believe a strengthened GI Bill could have the same effects as the original - the country is in a different place culturally and economically - I do believe it could still have a significant impact. Plus it gives returning veterans an opportunity to re-adjust to civilian life.

If you’re interested, there’s a bill before Congress to update the GI Bill and improve the benefits such that veterans from the current war in Iraq and Afghanistan get the same deal as their World War II brethren. It’s something that the organization, Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America, is working on, and there’s a petition at the Petition Site.

I’m really pleased with the way the apartment is coming together. In past years, almost all of my furniture was inherited from roommates and friends. Don’t get me wrong - those pieces served me well. There’s a couch from Carrie, for example, that was probably the most comfortable thing to sleep on.

But I’m definitely at a stage now (due a mixture of age and all the traveling around) that I’m interested in establishing my own place. To have my surroundings reflect my values and aesthetics. To have the place support who I am and what I want to be.

That might sound a little over-the-top, but I’m a firm believer that environment has a profound effect on people. I’m sure you know someone, for example, who absolutely cannot work when there’s clutter around them. Or if you’ve ever walked into a place and you could feel it suck the life right out of you.

Well, my goal is it to ensure that my apartment is a comfortable and interesting place to live. That means comfy places to sit and read, interesting use of colors and shapes, warmth, capacity for guests and visitors, and so on.

And as I said, I’m please with how it’s coming along. At first, I wanted to rush and fill the place, but my health kept that from happening. Now I’m glad, because since I’ve chilled out - the pieces have been slowly finding me.

It’s still not complete and I’ve got a few more pieces to go, not to mention all the art needed for the walls, but I’ve been thoroughly enjoying the process.

Here’s a picture to show what the new sofa looks like:

And here’s a cabinet that I’m totally in love with. OMG, it’s gorgeous:

I’m totally stuck on this song. It’s been looping through my head a lot lately. I guess it’s all the home-building.

Over the past couple of weeks my living room has become liveable. New sofa, sidetables, coffee table. Just a few more pieces and some art to go.

Anyway, enjoy - it’s a great song…

Mushaboom by Feist

I have been extraordinarily negligent in updating the Journal - my most profound apologies for that. But there was an intention behind it, and a good one. Amazingly enough, I needed to teach myself how to rest again. The past few months have been so mad - the traveling around, the looking for work, and all the while sick and exhausted from being sick. I totally underestimated how much of a toll it was taking on my body. There were things I had to do though - survival things - and I paid the price. For four months, I paid the price.

Once I realized that I’d been ignoring my body’s demands, I knew that had to change. So for a couple of weeks, I did nothing. In fact, I did as much nothing as I could get away with. I lay in bed. I lay on the floor. I read. I played some video games. I lay in bed again. I did go to work - that was non-negotiable for me - but everything else was off the table.

And it worked. The cough is gone. Completely. My lungs are clear, and my energy slowly returned. I’m not quite 100 percent, but I’m close enough that I can smell the changes coming. Yoga again, bicycling, hiking - all just over the horizon.

I don’t regret what I had to do, though. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the job, the apartment, the life beginning anew. It’s like an old martial arts instructor once told me. If someone knocks you down, stand up like a fighter. Let it be in your eyes and the way you rise from the floor. You’re there to fight, and there ain’t no mucking about.

Well, it was a bad time, and I had to fight to get to where I am. I was down, and down a lot, but each time I got up like a fighter. It was hard, but it worked.

And now that I got to here, whatever that is which I’m still figuring out, it’s time rest. I have a place now where it’s okay to open up to the body’s aches and the emotional bruising. A quiet place to rest, recover, and recharge.

So that’s where I’ve been. I haven’t even been writing. All the ideas about what my life should be like now - I’ve thrown them away. I realized that I was trying so hard to create something that I was getting in the way of its creation. It’s so much easier to just let it unfold. My body, my heart, my mind - they all know what they want and I should just trust them to find the way. And they do.

So, the lesson in all this? If there is one it’s this: stand like fighter, rest when it’s quiet, and trust yourself to find the way.

It’s taken some time to settle down into a writing practice. I’m still feeling rootless, and I will occasionally still catch myself worrying about where I’ll be spending the night, how to arrange access for internet and phone, etc. It’s strange. Maybe it’s because the apartment’s still empty and as a result it still feels like a temporary arrangement? That’s certainly not my plan. I bought a dining room set from Cost Plus over the weekend. A good deal too - a table with 4 chairs, all for $325. I also put a deposit down on a sofa, but that will have to wait till my next paycheck. So, there’s home-building going on. It’s just a slow process.

As for the writing, I did finish The Saint of Winter. Many thanks to Lowie and Carrie for reading and offering their feedback. The story’s certainly better for it. And thanks to Mike for the final polish. I’ll be sending it around now for publication. *fingers crossed*

And, perhaps more importantly, I’ve started working on Milo again. It’s a challenge given how the shape of the story changed as it was getting written. From short story to novella to novel. How I’m going to work it all out will take some time, but I’ve started. I’ve started. Now it’s a matter of taking the writer’s seat and seeing what happens.

A small amount of progress today but the important thing was showing up, so I’m pleased. Hmm… I’m convinced that 80% of being a writer is just showing up and seeing what happens. Also, 80% of being a writer is revision, and another 80% is the business side and taking care of your interests. But then again, I’m just starting out and I don’t really know anything yet. I’m willing to learn though. I’m certainly willing.

Don’t get too attached to your first sentence, paragraph, chapter. In all likelihood, you’ll end up moving it later in the story or deleting it. This is especially true if you think the first chapter is particularly clever or smart.

A corollary: there is an inverse relationship between how attached I am to the first chapter with the appropriateness of it actually being there.