redbeardlucido-blog

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Why teach?

    Becoming a teacher wasn’t something I had decided on until later on in college, yet something I think that I’ve wanted to do for a long time now. It started back when I was 16, I helped a family friend of ours who happened to own a preschool and when I was little I attended, now I was giving back and helping. I would help cook for the kids as well as teaching them the alphabet and other basics, sometimes I would bring in my guitar and play for them. This really opened my eyes to how rewarding it was to teach someone younger and get a positive reaction. Aside from my old preschool teacher a couple of my favorite teachers were my shop teacher in middle school and my Japanese teacher in junior high and high school. My shop teacher was different and that’s why I liked him. I was awkward in middle school and didn’t have a whole lot of friends. During his class he mentioned a models club after school, I decided to go. I’m glad I did, I built a lot of cool models as well as had some good memories. Such as joking around with the teacher and watching the X-files. In class he joked around a lot and was just silly yet at the same time was knowledgeable on the subject matter teaching us a lot. My Japanese teacher was not as silly but more strict, why I liked her so much was how good of a teacher she was. I can’t say for sure how it was she did it but for all these years I am still able to remember Japanese and what she taught me with no practice since then, to me that is impressive and shows she did something right.

    A big influence on me was my high school chemistry teacher. My junior year of high school was one of the hardest years of my life going through a lot of struggles in life. I was failing her class and not showing up, pretty much not caring and wanting to be done. Yet where some teachers saw no hope in me and didn’t care she did. She worked with me every day making sure I understood the subject matter and was determined to not let me fail. And after a year of dealing with probably one of the most stubborn students she’ll ever have she helped me pass. I didn’t truly appreciate it until I was older and more mature but I won’t forget how she helped me and I will carry that on helping every student of mine in the future.

    I am still working out just how I want to teach, I like how my chemistry teacher never gave up on me and worked hard to make sure I understood it, I plan on doing the same with my students. I also liked how my Japanese teacher would incorporate different ways of practicing so that it stuck with us. Each day she would have someone come up to the front of the class and speak in Japanese, she also would have us write over and over, but it stuck with me. I also thought it was a good idea creating games such as bingo to practice Japanese characters. It was fun yet it also was really good practice and I think it would be good doing something like this for an English class. I also strongly believe that no two students are the same and that you should change things every so often so that everyone experiences a learning that works for them.

    Furthermore I want to make a difference in someone’s life, be it small giving them the knowledge they need to do well and pass the class or big, getting them on the right track to succeed in life. I want to take everything I’ve learned and experienced over the years from teachers good and bad and apply it to my methods. Carrying on how they taught me and for those they were no good, putting an end to the poor education that is going on in America right now. Maybe I can make a big difference and maybe I can’t. But if I can say at the end of my career I made a difference in at least on child’s life than I know I did well.

[redbeardlucido-blog]

More promising start to a book

              My story is not anything special.  In fact, the story I’m telling is just a small part of my life, it doesn’t really tell everything.  I can’t tell you my whole life story but I can tell you one in which I messed a lot of things up and almost died.  My name is Carly, Carly Rain.  When I was little teachers would always say how cute it sounded or make some corny joke. Today not much has changed except instead of commenting how cute it sounds I’m told I would be perfect as a weatherman.  For the record this isn’t a job I want to take up.  I don’t really know what I want to do yet, but hey I’m only 17, there’s plenty of time to decide on what I want to do for the rest of my life.  

               There isn’t much to say about me, I’m your average American high schooler.  By average I mean as average as you can imagine.  If you’re picturing a girl, about 5 feet 6 inches, light brown hair a little past her shoulders, hazel eyes, 105 pounds, and no acne believe it or not.  Well you’re picturing me.  I grew up in the suburbs with my mom and younger brother.  My parents got a divorce when I was 13 so I suppose someone might consider it a broken home.  I’ve always wondered though, can it really be called a broken home if it’s the new norm?  Anyways I don’t see my dad all that often, he provides us with plenty of money that no one complains or asks questions.  We never really did connect on any personal level, sometimes I feel he forgets he even has kids.  It doesn’t bother me too much though; I’m used to it now.  I don’t think my little brother even cares a little as long as he gets whatever new game has come out.

               I go to Columbus high school.  It used to be called Jackson high school after Andrew Jackson but people got upset over his treatment of native Americans so they named it after Christopher Columbus.  Everyone was ok with this but sometimes I wonder if most people just skipped out on history class.  I go there with my two best friends; there’s Sabrina nicknamed Sabrina the teenage bitch. I don’t think I have to go into detail about how she got that name.  

[redbeardlucido-blog]

Want

Do you want this?!

Yes This.

What You so eagerly awaited,

Wanted

Needed,

Isn’t this what you signed up for?

The look in your face says many things

And yet

You have but one question.

Who am I?

Does that matter now? Did it ever matter?

Who I am is the question

And yet

It Doesn’t matter.

Mom, Dad, Teacher, Brother.

God.

You choose.

So much doubt, disgust, anger,

Regret.

And yet, you continue.

Continue to smile, laugh, joke,

Live.

And yet my question still remains,

Do you want this?

[redbeardlucido-blog]

Possible story idea?

               Charles was a simple man.  Living alone in a small apartment on a street that possessed no name, rather a number.  It wouldn’t be right calling it run down.  Old however it was.  It was well kept by an elderly couple that were past their prime, relying on the modern world around them to come at the drop of a hat to fix any problems that came up. Charles liked it here, he was never bothered by any of the tenants and found a joy in helping the landlords with random repairs when professionals were unavailable.  Of course enduring nagging from the old lady was something that came with the help.

               “You’re always working and when you’re not working you in your room alone, take a vacation, find a girl for christs sake.” She would always say.

               “Leave the man alone.  He gets enough from you, probably why he prefers to be alone.” Her husband would always respond.

               The arguing would continue for some time until the elderly landlords would forget what they were arguing about in the first place.  They don’t remember how they met or where their lives really began but Charles had never seen a couple so in love.  The interest of love passed through his mind every now and again but never was pressing enough to pursue.  Charles found the idea of love

[redbeardlucido-blog]

Thermodynamics 3rd law

This leads us to the third law of thermodynamics.  The third goes hand in hand with the second, at least when dealing with entropy.  The third law is hard to explain; as it also deals with the limiting behavior of systems as the temperature reaches absolute zero.  Absolute zero is -273.15°C which is the coldest possible temperature.  The third law deals with absolute zero using entropy, it can be defined as; “The entropy of a perfect crystal is zero when the temperature of the crystal is equal to absolute zero.”  So what does this mean?

               Well as it stands right now it is impossible to reach absolute zero, which as I said is minus 273.15°C/0°K/-459.67°F.  At this point, atoms would stop moving, in every object atoms are constantly moving, even if the object is a frozen solid the atoms are still moving, only slightly, but still in motion.  At absolute zero there is no thermal energy or heat, there is no work being done and nothing being transferred.  This has not been done as it is impossible to reach absolute zero currently.  You might be wondering to yourself why is it impossible to reach absolute zero?  Although I don’t know the answer entirely I can do my best to answer it partially.  

               As it stands currently it is physically impossible for atoms to stop moving.  In part this is due to Heisenberg’s uncertainty principal in quantum mechanics.  This principal states; “The position and momentum of a particle cannot be simultaneously measured with arbitrarily high precision. There is a minimum for the product of the uncertainties of these two measurements. There is likewise a minimum for the product of the uncertainties of the energy and time.”  In other words, what this says is that the position and the velocity of an object cannot be measured at the exact same time.  Once again it states that no particle be it free or in a system can have no momentum.

[redbeardlucido-blog]

Disorder

Disorder.

I’ve lost track of time.

The air is cold and dry.

At one point in time there was peace

a child laughing, flowers growing, beauty.

I sit and watch as time continues to move forward

Never stopping

Never slowing down.

People come and people go,

Friendships, marriages,

Life.

and

Death.

What purpose do I hold in this universe?

I clean my house only for it to inevitably become messy.

I eat to survive

And find happiness to stay sane.  

The thoughts speed through my mind endlessly,

I try and lasso them, bring them together, create

Order.

I have found it to be useless.

Time goes forward and it is no longer what it once was.

As I move forward,

My thoughts

My actions

Only create,

Chaos.

[redbeardlucido-blog]

Thermodynamics 2nd law

The second law of thermodynamics is extremely important and covers a lot of ground.  To get as scientific and technical as possible it can be defined as follows.  “The second law of thermodynamics is a general principle which places constraints upon the direction of heat transfer and the attainable efficiencies of heat engines. In so doing, it goes beyond the limitations imposed by the first law of thermodynamics.  In any cyclic process the entropy will either increase or remain the same. Entropy is a state variable whose change is defined for a reversible process at T where Q is the heat absorbed. Entropy is a measure of the amount of energy which is unavailable to do work.  Entropy can also be defined as the disorder of a system.”

So what is that saying?  It is saying a lot but can be explained in shorter and simpler terms.  I won’t go into detail on everything but will discuss the basics.  To begin, it is saying that there are limitations on the flow of heat.  Heat flows from hot to cold.  You may have been told as a kid when you open the door on a cold day that you’ll let the cold air in.  This is not true, rather it is the heat that would be flowing outwards heating the outside. However, you may be thinking “what about a refrigerator? Doesn’t it make warm objects cold, such as freezing water?” Yes this is true and may contradict what I was saying earlier, this however brings up the next point in the 2nd law of entropy.

The entropy of a system can only increase, it is possible for the entropy of something to decrease however the system around it has to compensate for the entropy decreasing by therefore increasing.  In other words picture putting water which is a warm liquid into the freezer.  As the freezer cools the water the entropy of the water is decreasing and getting colder.  However, to compensate for this the freezer is using energy and outputting heat this is increasing the entropy not only in the room but the overall disorder of the universe.  So now whenever you are placing something in the freezer you can think you are also increasing the disorder of the universe.  It gets quite complicated and to save on any confusion I will end with this explanation.  

The universe is an isolated system; this means that everything that exist in the universe already exist.  The elements that compose the sun and everything else in the universe are also in us.  No matter or energy can enter or exit the universe.  As I stated in the first law energy cannot be created or destroyed. This means that the energy being used is increasing the entropy of the isolated system, that energy is going somewhere and it isn’t always being used.  As the lyric in the song I am showing states “an economy based on endless growth is unsustainable.”  There are fixed limitations on what humans can achieve and what can be achieved in the universe.  As I said in the beginning, this helps to predict and explain the end of time.  To change things up I have decided to try my best and write a poem incorporating the 2nd law of thermodynamics.

[redbeardlucido-blog]

1st law of Thermodynamics

The world around us is in constant motion.  We may stop to take a break, sitting down, going to bed for an attempted 8 hours.  However, the world is never slowing down or taking a break.  The universe that surrounds our planet is in constant motion. There is energy all around us putting in motion everything.  Everything in the universe is working hard.  From large scale items, such as jet airplanes, to the atoms that are in everything around us. So how do we know these things to be true? How do we know they aren’t resting?  The answer to this question can be found in physics, more specifically thermodynamics.

Although I am majoring in middle school language arts science happens to be the subject I consistently score higher in and find very interesting.  I just happen to like English a bit more, physics I study in my free time.  That being said, there is a lot more that goes into the answer of the universe, it involves chemistry and biology and even more physics, yet at its core (no pun intended) it is thermodynamics.  Thermodynamics is what explains why everything works, why the universe is the way it is, and gives the answer to not only our own end but the universes as well.  There are three laws to thermodynamics, technically there are four but the zeroth law is for another time.  I plan on taking you through a journey of the three laws of thermodynamics as best as I can. I am no expert but my goal is to help you better understand the world around you in a creative way.

Furthermore, one of the most important laws of thermodynamics is defined as; “The change in internal energy of a system is equal to the heat added to the system minus the work done by the system.”  It is important to note that heat can only flow from hot to cold, this is covered more in the second law.  What the first law is stating in its most basic form is that energy cannot be created or destroyed.  All energy that ever will exist already exist.  To demonstrate this law I will take you on an imaginative schedule or the life of said energy.  Join me now at the heart of our solar system, our sun…

10:00 AM on a Monday. The Sun.

The actual time of the sun is technically 9:51 and 40 seconds.  The photons emitted from the sun or rather the heat and light from the sun must travel across the vacuum of space.  They travel at the speed of light which after the calculations from speed and time takes about 8 minutes and 20 seconds.  Here the sun is working very hard, everything on the sun is a gas. At millions and millions of degrees the sun through nuclear fusion converts hydrogen atoms into helium. This mass is being converted into energy constantly and therefore the beginning of our journey.

10:00 AM on a Monday. A soybean farm in Missouri.

               So far the energy process has been simple, however as soon as the energy hits Earth’s atmosphere, even before, things get complicated.  Luckily I will try and keep it as simple as possible.  We have on a random farm in Missouri a soybean plant. Here the plant is taking the energy from the sun and not destroying it but rather using it through the process of photosynthesis.  The light the soybean receives as well as the carbon dioxide is the plants daily meal.   Here through photosynthesis the plant is completing several tasks.  It is converting the CO2 into oxygen, something that we as humans are very thankful for.  The soybean plant is also using the water it gets, the CO2, and the sunlight to create sugar.  This provides some of the nutrients we get from the plant, as well as food for itself as excess sugar is stored in its roots.

11:00 AM Monday. A farmer is driving the appropriate farm equipment to harvest the soybean.

               The energy from the sun has not been destroyed, it has only been transferred.  It has been transferred to so many different natural and technological processes that it is extremely difficult to name them all.  In this situation, we have the farmer driving his farm equipment that runs on fossil fuels.  In short it was the sun that provided the animals with heat and food millions of years ago, that energy was stored in them and left as they died. The fossils were buried and gravity and high mass compressed those fossils over time into oil.  That is now being used to power the farm equipment. That farm equipment is releasing its energy through heat and combustion in the motor, the exhaust that comes from burning said oil and gasoline, and the friction that comes from cutting and collecting the soybeans.  There a lot processes at work.  

               It is important to note that there are two main types of energy.  Those two are potential and kinetic; although an important concept of thermodynamics and physics, I won’t get into this now.  Another important note is that there are four types of processes extremely important to thermodynamics.  Those processes are isobaric, isochoric, isothermal, adiabatic. The importance of these and the detail I can go into is quite a lot, for sake of this story I will spare the details.

2:00 PM Tuesday.  A factory that processes the soy into veggie burgers.

               There are a few other steps that take place, such as the transportation of the soybeans to the factory, the possible packaging and distribution.  In this hypothetical situation, we have simply fast forward through time. Now that the soybeans are at the factory they are being broken down into a form suitable to hold together as a vegetarian patty.  Here other ingredients are added such has beans, corn, peppers, and other flavorings. The machines working on these vegetarian patties are using energy, transferring energy into the patties and what not.  

6:00 PM Thursday.  A vegie patty on your dinner plate.

               Here we have also fast forward to the point when you are consuming the vegetarian soy patty. It is important to note that there are three types of systems ins physics and in thermodynamics, those are closed, open, and isolated systems.  Because as humans we have energy and matter that both enter and exit our bodies we are open systems.  Here a lot of things are happening as we are eating this veggie burger.  Our body is breaking down the nutrients from the soy and all the other ingredients.  The definition of a calorie a unit of heat used to indicate the amount of energy that foods will produce in the human body.  Therefore, the calories that are in the processed soy are being transferred to us to use to complete everyday task.  When we are walking or even sleeping we are burning those calories.  The energy isn’t being destroyed but rather released be it through sweat, carbon dioxide, releasing of waste, that energy is being transferred to something else.

               It is important to note that everything in the universe is made up of atoms however atoms are not the smallest unit of matter.  Rather the smallest unit of matter is called a quark.  Protons and neutrons are made up of quarks.  Why I bring this up is, that although theoretical, quarks cannot be split up.  What happens is that when we try to split a quark in half the energy used to split it is transferred to the quark and it there for creates another quark.  This further proves the point that energy cannot be destroyed.  All energy is simply transferred, all the energy that was created during the big bang exist and that is it.  So what happens to all that energy being used? Where does excess energy go?  This nicely brings us to the 2nd law of thermodynamics.  

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Skip Day

    Marcus awoke to the piercing sound of his alarm.  Staring back at him was the hellish red glow that read 6:30 AM reminding him it was time to get up and start the morning routine.  He sat up wiping the remaining sleep from his eyes as he gathered his thoughts.  Looking around his room, he thought to himself what exactly would he take to his first year of college.  His classic movie posters were a must; Sunset Boulevard, American Beauty, and the Godfather.  Three movies that had little relation to one another, yet in some way held meaning in Marcus’s life.  Photos of his mom and dad would come with him, as well as the stuffed dog he was given by his late grandfather. 

    Marcus opened his laptop to check his Facebook.  No matter what, his laptop would come with him, he took it everywhere, along with his camcorder.  It’s as if they were the life support keeping him going.  Nothing new, just status after status about graduation and parties to follow.  There was one notification reminding him that it was senior skip day, a tradition that went back to before he was born.  He heard his mom call from downstairs as he threw everything in his backpack and headed down.  Marcus knew his mom was aware he was skipping today, and as much as she hated he was missing school she knew it was a tradition and went along as if nothing were different. 

    She didn’t really have a choice, he was a straight A student, a parents dream.  Never got in any trouble, and was president of the film club at his school.  He stopped in the kitchen staring at his mom and dad across the table like a deer caught in headlights.  There was no breakfast on the table and his dad should have been at work by now. 

    “Is something wrong?” Marcus said puzzled, not knowing what he could have done.  “Oh god no honey, not at all” his mom said frantically as she smiled and went to sit down.  “Son I’m proud of you” His father said with a smile on his face.  His dad rarely smiled like this, something about it was off putting.

    “Well Marcus, when we got the mail this morning we noticed there was a letter addressed to you from UCLA…and we couldn’t help but open it.” His mom said.  “Oh my god, no way! Really?” Marcus said as he dropped his back pack.  “You’ve been accepted” his parents exclaimed in unison as if they had been practicing all morning.  There wasn’t a happier household in all of Southern LA then right now.  It was a dream of Marcus’s since he held his first camera.  To go to UCLA like one of the greats, and now it was finally coming true.  Marcus excused himself to splash some cool water on his face in the bathroom, almost as if to check if this really were a dream. 

    He looked at himself in the mirror, staring back was the biggest smile he had ever seen.  He couldn’t believe it and couldn’t wait to tell his friends.  Without hesitation he texted his two best friends, Darryon and Michael asking if they were on their way.

    “Marcus are you going to need a ride to school?” his dad asked.  “Nah dad it’s ok, Darryon and Michael are on their way to get me.” “Please be careful now, you know I love you and it would kill me if anything happened to you.  I know they’re your friends and I don’t exactly agree with everything they do” “Mom stop right there” Marcus said with a chuckle.  “I’ll be fine, they’re good guys.  I love you too.”

    Before he knew it Michael had pulled up in his old beat up 98 black Mercedes Benz.  Marcus liked it, he was tired of his cookie cutter life in middle class America.  He was happy, no doubting that, Marcus was about to be a high school graduate and attending the college of his dreams.  But sometimes he wondered what if he was given a life like Darryon or Michael, both high school drop outs.  One never knowing their mother, the other only seeing their father once, getting thrown in the back of a cop car and hauled away to prison.  Growing up in Compton, a life that no one should live.  Marcus would go crazy thinking about how three blacks all the same age could be so similar yet at the same time so different.  This is why he wanted to get into film, he wanted to show people the real stories and the real lives that were out there overlooked.  How many people would look at Michael, dreads past his shoulders and baggy pants to the point of falling down, and think he was good with computers.  But he was, he would help Marcus edit his videos.  Marcus would always ask why he didn’t try to pursue something in editing but was always given the same response. 

    “A nigga like me getting a job like that? Ha, you must be on something.  I barely hold the job I got now, I can’t afford to be chasing some dream.” It was sad to say the least but they were still his friends no matter what.

    Darryon was in the passenger seat, he was always quieter, only spoke when spoken to, a silent side kick to Michael one could say.  It was a nice balance having him around.  When Marcus opened the door he immediately started coughing as if had stepped foot inside a burning building. 

    “Damn Michael, seems like you’ve smoked a whole field” “Chill nigga, I’ve got enough for you” Michael said sloppily as if he were a patient waking up from anesthesia.  “How many times have I told you? I don’t smoke, I tried it that one time and that was enough” Marcus said as he got comfortable in the back.  “aight’ more for me and Darryon” “How are you anyways Darryon” Marcus asked.  “I’m good. I’m ready for this party tonight.” “Oh shit! I almost forgot about that party, it’s gonna be fuckin dope.” Michael said with excitement as if he had been shot with adrenaline.

    “So what’s the plan for today?” Asked Marcus, “I don’t know, I figure we drive around some.  You can shoot some of the city for whatever project you working on. Then grab some food.  I got a guy later we meeting up with getting us some drinks for the party.” As Michael explained and drifted back into talking about the party Marcus stared out the window as if being taking to another world.  As they drove down the city streets all the buildings and people passed by as if he were watching a screen saver.  It was almost enough to put Marcus to sleep, he closed his eyes and started dreaming of what his dorm room would look like, all the new friends he would make and classes he would take.  A smile started to form across his face only to quickly go as it came from the sudden blast of music from the speakers.  

    “What the hell!” Marcus yelled as he jumped out of his seat “turn that down!”  “aight aight keep yo shirt on” Michael said as he turned the music down.  “I noticed you dozing off back there and figured I’d give ya a scare” “tell me whatcha think of this new track.” Marcus listened as some generic mainstream rapper spewed line after line about how many women he was sleeping with combined with the money he had. “Man why do you even listen to this crap?” Marcus asked in disgust “What?! You don’t like this?” Michael said shocked, as if he had created the song himself.  “I just don’t get why you listen to this stuff, it’s all the same crap.  Why not listen to someone who speaks the truth?” “Aw man here we go again” Michael said as Darryon chuckled.

    “You complain all the time about not having enough money for this or that yet you wanna listen to some asshole that has barley done anything for society brag about how much money he has?  Why not listen to someone rap the truth? About what’s really going on, the problems that are really happening.” Marcus went on about issues going on that he has either heard on the news or learned about in school before he was interrupted by Michael.  “I just wanted to know if you liked it or not nigga, didn’t know I was gonna get lectured like yous was my mom.  Step down from your soapbox for a sec, we should call you Chocolate Milk.” Marcus laughed and sat back getting comfortable again.  

    “You see man some of us aren’t as lucky as you. Darryon and I we ain’t got both parents or a nice two story house.  Shit we live in Compton USA, that’s all you gotta say and niggas know yo life.  Sure I complain a lot about how I have it, and this music I can hardly relate to, but haven’t you ever had a dream? Something you’ve always wanted? That’s how I see this music, I dream of having loads of money able to get whatever I want whenever I want it…I just don’t know how I’m gonna get there yet.”  Michael got quiet after that as if reality had hit a little too hard.

    “Hey man that reminds me guess what?” Marcus said excited, changing the subject to something happier.  “I got accepted to UCLA.”  “Aw shit man no way!” Michael shouted looking back almost driving off the road with excitement.  “Yeah man congratulations, I know you’ve been working hard for that with your filming and what not.” Darryon said taking Marcus and Michael both by surprise. “Anyways that’s awesome, let me get your drink, this is a cause for celebration.” Michael said.  As they pulled up to the liquor store and got out Darryon turned to Marcus and said “hey man when you make it big don’t forget about your friends down here.”  Marcus laughed “don’t worry I could never forget about my best friends.”  

    Looking around the liquor store they noticed a couple bottles of some cheap alcohol they wanted, they weren’t really sure what it was just what it did and that they could afford it.  The place had a funky odor to it, like cheap cologne and roach bombs.  Their feet stuck to the floor of every aisle as if it hadn’t been moped since day one. The clerk hadn’t taken his eyes off them since they stepped foot in the store.  There was an old beat up boom box behind him that was barley doing its job, playing some unidentifiable Middle Eastern music.  The clerk was an elderly Pakistani man with large round eyes that had seen more in life than Marcus’s camcorder.  He had a scowl on his face that was almost unreadable under the un-kept grey beard covering most of his face.  He looked like a Middle Eastern Santa Claus.

    “Man have you seen the way that niggas been checking us out?” Michael said under his breath.  “Relax, he’s just old.  Plus we are three teenagers in a liquor store remember?”  Marcus said as he grabbed a mountain dew from the cooler.  There was a quiet electrical hum coming from the cooler, something about this Marcus found soothing.  The elderly man didn’t say anything as they paid for the soda and left.  

    “Fucking racist” Michael said as he kicked a piece of pavement that had broken away from the sidewalk just outside the liquor store. “Chill man, put yourself in his shoes. Besides think of the racist shit he gets from white people every day.  This whole country is just a big melting pot of racism, we just have to be the generation to move past it.” Marcus said as he took a swig from the mountain dew, he wasn’t surprised it wasn’t cold in the slightest after seeing how the store was.  

    “I see my guy now.” Michael pointed to a car pulling up.  A twenty something guy stepped out, his skin was so dark that he looked like he belonged to some Australian tribe featured on the cover of National Geographic.  He was tall, skinny, and bald with dark sunglasses on giving no visibility to his eyes.  He walked with the confidence of some rock star as he approached the group. “What you guys want?” Michael told him about the cheap liquor on the bottom shelf and handed him the cash. Marcus, Michael, and Darryon all waited as they enjoyed the sunlight and warm California breeze.  Michael was trying his hardest to rap as Darryon just stood there listening, laughing every time Michael would mess up.  Marcus was filming people walking by, all of which were oblivious to the fact they were being filmed.  He wondered what they were thinking as they went about their day. There was a mom, holding the hands of her two kids as they strolled down the sidewalk.  A business man shouting gibberish into his cell phone, he seemed to be upset about something.  It was a quiet day, he could only hear the chatter of passerby’s and the faint music from cars playing today’s top 40 hits.  Marcus noticed their buyer was leaving the store so he tossed his camera in his backpack and joined his friends.  

    “Here you go, there was no change” He handed Michael the bag and left.  “Wouldn’t there be change with all that?” Marcus asked “Probably, but who cares we got the liqu-“ Michael was cut off when they heard shouting, looking up they saw the Pakistani man coming out of his store.  “I knew you guys were up to no good! Always up to no good! I try to make an honest living and you have to come and mess it all up!” He shouted as he was walking towards them.  He seemed larger when he was away from the counter.  They all stood there, Michael quickly stuffed the bag in Marcus’s backpack as if that were to do anything.  It’s as if their intelligence regressed as they stood there not moving a muscle like animals about to be attacked by a fierce predator.

    “I should have called the police the moment I saw you guys! But no they do nothing! If you want something done right you have to do it yourself!” The boys looked at each other and then back at the man that was coming towards them, that’s when they noticed what he was holding. A silver handgun was hanging by his side griped tightly in his hand.  His knuckles were white and looked as if they were to break the gun.  It reflected the sun off its barrel and shined in the face of Marcus.  “Oh fuck!” Marcus shouted as soon as he saw the danger barreling towards them.  The boys quickly turned and ran towards their car when they heard a shot go off.  

    Michael was already to the car when he saw Marcus falling to the ground.  He started to panic dropping his keys and breathing heavily as if he lost complete function of his body.  Darryon without hesitation picked up Marcus and within the blink of an eye had him in the back seat and Michael in the passenger.  Darryon drove away leaving the Pakistani man in the parking lot on his knees, pistol by his side, and hands in his face.  

    “Is he ok?” Darryon said as he drove, eyes darting from street sign to street sign trying to remember the fastest way to the hospital.  With no answer he asked again “Michael you need to focus, get back there and check on him.”  Michael was still breathing heavily now wiping away tears that were pouring from his eyes.  “He’s dead man! That fucker shot him!  He’s dead!” “We don’t know that, you need to check on him, I’m trying to get us to the hospital.” Michael climbed in the back stumbling over himself and landing on the floor in front of his immobile friend.  “Mar…Marcus, are…” He couldn’t finish the sentence as he started crying again. “Marcus are you ok?” Michael said softly near Marcus’s head, hoping for any sign of life.  

“What the hell happened?”

    “He’s alive!” Shouted Michael as Darryon continued driving to the hospital not saying anything but only smiling.  “What happened?” Marcus asked sitting up in the back seat as Michael took the seat next to him.  “You were shot? Aren’t you hurt? You should be dead or something?” Marcus gathered his thoughts and came to his senses.  “You’re right, I was shot, and I should be dead.” He took off his backpack and had Michael check his back.  “Nothing man” Michael said softly as if he had seen a ghost.  “Oh shit!” Marcus said has he grabbed for his backpack staring in to the mangled mess.  There in his backpack were the remains of his camcorder and still solid laptop both covered in alcohol.  He pulled out what was left of the camcorder and tossed it to the floor, the whole car now smelled like the dingy basement of some frat house.

     He removed his laptop and there in the back was the bullet lodged deep into center. “Man it’s ruined” Marcus said as he threw everything to the floor.  “Are you crazy?? We thought you were dead! And all you care about is that laptop and stupid camera of yours?” Michael said in disbelief.  Marcus just sat there looking out the window, he was alive but part of him was dead.  

[redbeardlucido-blog]

The Masterpiece (3)

“Oh my Lucy.  You really have done it.” Sam said taking in every detail of the painting.

               “So you like it?” Lucy asked.

               “I love it.” Sam said barley moving his lips.

               “I would say this is a true masterpiece.”  Lucy said giving Sam a hug.

               “That it is.  And now I must complete my masterpiece.” Sam said turning towards Lucy.

               “What do you mean Sam?” Lucy asked

               “I’ve watched you grow up to the beautiful woman you are today.  I remember when yous was a little baby. But your time has come.” Sam said as serious as he’s ever been.  The words barley escaping his lips.

               “What are you talking about…?” Lucy said, a tremble in her voice.  She wondered if this was a dream.  If the lack of sleep was messing with her and she was imagining this.

               “This isn’t a dream Lucy.  This isn’t from a lack of sleep.  This is very real.” Sam said

               “How…How did you know I was thinking that?” Lucy said now getting worried backing away slowly

               She couldn’t tell what was going on but she knew something was very wrong. She had never witnessed Sam act like this.  She felt a nausea rush over her and a panic set in.  As she looked into Sam’s eyes she started feeling a sadness envelop her. No matter what she tried to think of she couldn’t think of anything good.  Her mother’s face was all she saw.  Not the smiling, laughing, joyous face she would see when her mother returned home from work.  Rather the sickly face of her mom in the hospital bed during her final days.  The days that both Lucy and her mom knew would be her last.  Like a sick dying dog crawling under the front porch to live out its last days. Lucy couldn’t stop picturing it all as tears slid down her cheeks.

               “Sam what’s going on?!”  Lucy said now panicking, her words barely audible from the mix of emotions.

               “Yous was one of my favorites Lucy but now your time is up.” Sam said.

               “I don’t understand what do you mean my time is up?” Lucy asked.

               In an instant Lucy felt as if she were floating in air.  She had no control over her body, she just stood there. Mouth open, tears no longer flowing from her eyes.  

               “Sam I’m scared.” Lucy said, forcing the words out of her mouth.

               “I know.” Sam said.

               Lucy started walking slowing towards the window and before she knew it she had opened it.  The roses from Miss. Freeman were no longer on the window sill.  They were a broken scattered mess on the sidewalk bellow. Lucy didn’t remember doing or seeing any of this happening.  There were the sounds of sirens in the distance, trains screeching to a halt, and inaudible arguments happening on every corner.  The night life of New York went about slowing down for no one.  

               “Sam are you doing this?” Lucy asked.

               “Yes.” Sam responded as calm as ever.

               This was not the Sam she knew and loved.  This was not the man she had grown up with, the man who taught her everything.  Something was different.  The mystery was coming to a close and Lucy felt betrayed.

               “Sam why? Why are you doing this?” Lucy asked the tears now coming back as if Sam allowed them to.

               Sam took each step with ease, inching his way closer to Lucy.  He rested his hands on her shoulders and bent down so that his lips were next to her ear.  It’s as if he had a secret he had been waiting a lifetime to tell Lucy. A secret only she could know.  

               “Because Lucy, sometimes angels have to die.”

               And with that Lucy fell from the 3rd story of her run down 135th street apartment in Harlem, New York City.  Head first she hit the pavement dying on impact as her neck snapped from the anticipated fall.  Her body now sprawled on the sidewalk, motionless, still able to retain its beauty. Sam gazed down upon the sight, not smiling, not frowning, simply unfazed.  No one knew where Sam came from or where he went after the Death of Lucy Jophiel.  Some say he’s still in New York, other’s say he’s gone far away.  Sam was truly a mystery.  But everyone left it that way.  

[redbeardlucido-blog]

The Masterpiece (2)

Lucy’s father was a servicemen and died overseas leaving a daughter he never met and a wife alone in the big city.  All that remained of them were a few photos and some war memorabilia.  She entered her apartment once again struggling with the lock.  She stared at the blank canvas propped up in her living room. She had taken the liberty of changing the apartment into a work place totally devoted to art once her mom passed. It was the only thing to keep her sane and calm.  Aside from her art she spent her time working at a local grocery store.  She was hired because her mom was good friends with the owner, he made sure Lucy made enough to keep a living.  Every Friday he would give her a little extra for her art supplies.

               “Ok, let it come to you Lucy.”  Lucy said aloud with a smile picturing Sam next to her laughing.

               All around her apartment hung paintings she had done over the years. The first one she ever created hung in her bedroom, it could be considered abstract since no one was able to identify what it was.  Little to their knowledge she had painted it when she was three.  With her mom working late nights when she was little there was no one to watch over, at least no one affordable.  That was until the day Sam walked into their lives.  Lucy’s mom met him one day when she was standing outside rocking Lucy in the sunlight when he came up to introduce himself, saying that he had just moved in.  He was friendly, a kind friendly, the friendly you wished everyone had.  One night when Lucy was throwing a fit Sam brought over a paint brush, a few basic colors, as well as a small blank canvas he had lying around.  It seemed Sam was into everything, when someone came by claiming they had some talent Sam was always there to one up them.  No one knew how he held all these talents or even where he came from.  He was truly a Mystery, but people left it that way.

               “I know some yellow will be a nice touch!” Lucy exclaimed mixing some colors to get the right color of yellow.  Dabbing her brush in it she started in the top corner of the canvas. As soon as her brush hit the fabric she instantly felt regret.  

               “Dammit no!” She yelled as she tossed her brush aside.

               She wanted this painting to be perfect and every time she thought she had something she felt it wasn’t good enough.  She sat on the floor and looked again at some of her other paintings throughout the living room.  She realized there was no pattern, some were landscapes of the trips to upstate New York and the beaches that Sam took her to.  Some were portraits of people around the block, most notably Miss. Freeman and her flower shop.  She had a few portraits of her mom, two while she was alive and one after her death.  Sitting on the floor in her room was one of her least favorites, a self-portrait when she was 21.  It’s not that she thought she did a bad job, the exact opposite.  It was beautiful and a few people who saw it said it was their favorite.  She just felt uneasy looking at herself at that age with all the memories.  Growing up everyone used to tell her that she had the face of angel, she couldn’t see it herself but would always smile and thank them.  

               At the quick beat of her heart she jumped up almost knocking over the canvas.

               “I’ve never painted Sam!” Lucy shouted

               She quickly hurried downstairs to tell Sam.  As soon as she opened the doors she was met with the strangest thing. Sam wasn’t sitting on the steps.  Puzzled she slowly stepped out looking around to see if maybe he was hiding, getting back at her for the Pixy Stick trick.  He was nowhere to be found.  Looking across the street Mrs. Freeman’s Flower shop was now closed.  She must have closed early Lucy thought.  Before she could think any longer she was startled by a low voice.

               “Lookin’ for something Lucy” Sam said stepping out from the doorway.

               “Yeah! You!” Lucy said smiling up at him.

               “And why you looking for me?”

               “Well I realized I’ve painted just about everything I’ve seen in life. That is everything but you.” Lucy Said.

               “Now why do you want to paint an old thing like me?” Sam said joking with Lucy like he always did.

               “Because, you’re one of the most important people in my life.  You are like a father to me.  You’ve taught me a lot and I want to honor you by painting you as one of my most important pieces.” Lucy said eager for Sam to say yes so she could start.

               “I think I can do that for my special girl” Sam said.

               “Yay, thank you so much!” Lucy said.

               They made their way up to Lucy’s apartment wasting no time.  

               “Alright, remember when I was real little and you use to watch me when my mom worked late nights?” Lucy asked

               “Sure do.” Sam Said

               “Well you watched me for as long as you could stay awake” Lucy said laughing “anyway you would always sit in that old ratty recliner.  I think my mom would have thrown it out years ago if not for you.”

               “Ah yes, that old thing, there’s something comfortable about that.” Sam said.

               “Well maybe you can sit in it like you used to and I can paint that?” Lucy said yearning for Sams approval if that was an actual worry.

               “Of course, that sounds good.  Besides I get to sit this old body down, so you know I’m fine with that.” Sam said.

               Sam took a seat and got comfortable as Lucy instructed him to.  Before Sam could even move an inch Lucy was fast at work mixing colors and laying out different brush sizes ready to start this work of art.  She was a unique artist, her work didn’t flow so to speak.  Rather it was like a paint by numbers.  She would work diligently on a section, and when she felt drained or inspired for another section she would change it all on the fly.  The finished product was always a beauty but the real art was watching Lucy create.  Unfortunately no one got to witness Lucy at her work.  That was no one except Sam.  Her mom worked, and on returning home was too tired.  Lucy never had a boyfriend although there was always a guy interested.  Like fashion relationships were the least of Lucy’s worries.  Sam was the one who taught her and therefor would watch her. He seldom did, as he thought she needed her own creative space, for free flowing thoughts.

               “Lucy you mind if I stretch the old legs?” Sam said yawning

               “Sure Sam, I could use a stretch myself.” Lucy said

               Sam got up twisting and stretching.  Creeks and cracks coming from the weirdest of places, sounding like an old tree about to collapse.  

               “I see you painted just about everything around me but me painted.” Sam said

               “You know how I paint, besides I’m saving the best for last.” Lucy said with a nudge to Sam’s shoulder.  

               “You always know how to make an old man smile.” Sam said sitting back down.

               “How long have you been working you say?”

               “I’ve lost track of time, awhile that’s for sure.” Lucy said

               Lucy went right back to work on the painting.  She started with Sams’ feet, black shoes worn out from walking hundreds of miles.  They rested on the hard wood floor of the apartment just as they did all the nights he sat and watched her.  She painted everything effortlessly as if the struggle had been lifted and paint was now flowing from her heart out to her fingertips.  She continued painting until she caught the all too familiar infamous snore. She turned around to see Sam, head back over the recliner like a turkey looking up at the rain.  She just smiled and continued working.  She didn’t even need him to be there anymore, the image was so perfectly preserved in her mind.  Lucy continued working into the early hours of the morning, not taking a break for anything.  She was like a maestro conducting the concerto of the century.  The orchestra crescendoing as the audience is in awe of the performance. And with that final note, and the lowering of the baton, Lucy finished the last hair atop Sam’s head lowering her brush.

               “It’s finished Sam.” Lucy said letting out a sigh of relief as tiredness finally caught up.

               “What’s that?” Sam said waking up.

[redbeardlucido-blog]

The Master Piece (1)

I reworked the beginning and have finalized what I like.  I will up load them in three parts.  It is all one story.

Lucy awoke to the sun shining bright, as if trying to burn though her eyelids and wake her up.  Another night spent on the hard wood floor of her run down 135th street apartment in Harlem, New York City.  The living room had become her new bedroom, the largest space in the otherwise small unit. It housed all her artistic wants and needs.  She studied the blank canvas, its tightly woven fabric stretched across its wooden frame, seeking a beauty from its mundane and colorless life.  Lucy had stayed up into the early hours of the morning struggling to find an artistic endeavor but ultimately was met with nothing.  She thought sleep might get the creativity brewing but as she sat there half-awake she found nothing.

               “Maybe if I go for a walk and get some more supplies that will help.” Lucy said to herself

               Getting up she made her way downstairs in the clothes from yesterday.  Lucy’s fashion was the least of her worries.  The apartment was a true work of art, a forgotten piece of American history.  The key word forgotten.  Looking around it was apparent why rent was so cheap.  At quick glance there was beauty to be seen on the outside.  But looking inside was a dying, decrepit, disgusting mess. Each door bore the unique marking of a different family.  Its contents an individual history, each one different than the next.  Of the four floors the third, where Lucy resided had the most interesting smell, you wanted to throw up and grab a plate of whatever was cooking at the same time.  It wasn’t paradise but it was home to Lucy.  And in a sense there was a beauty to be seen.

               Outside she was met with a familiar face she was always happy to see.

               “Mornin’ Lucy, what cha up to?”

               “Oh not much Sam, just off to take a walk and get some supplies.  I’m really struggling with this painting.” Lucy said taking a seat next to Sam

               Sam was an elderly black man who sat on the steps of their apartment from the early hours of the morning until the sun fell beneath the horizon.  He was handsome for his age.  His charcoal gray hair rested ever so carefully atop his head.  If just the right amount of wind came along it might blow what’s left of it away like a dandelion on a summer day.  His nose was wide and his smile wider, his happiness was contagious, and despite what he’d been through you couldn’t meet a friendlier man.  His eyes had seen the world, and talking with him for a day wouldn’t be enough to know his story.  In that brain held years of knowledge and mystery that only Sam knew. There was an unknown with Sam that brought people close together, and a certain few it pushed far away.  

               “Well you know what I’ve always told ya…you can’t go forcing art.”  Sam said reciting what has been plastered throughout Lucy’s brain for years now.

               “I know Sam.  I just feel like I’ve been stuck on this painting forever, and have made no progress.”

               “Remember all your other paintings? Those weren’t done in a day, in fact I remember you struggled with one for a good ol’ week or two.  There was that one you stood there for I swear an hour, brush on canvas before you started.  It will come to you when ready.” Sam said with a chuckle

               “You’re right Sam, you always are.” Lucy said sighing with relief “Alright I better go get those supplies now.”

               “Hey Lucy, you mind getting me some of those…oh whatcha call em…” Sam said scratching his chin.

               “Oh my, Pixy Sticks again Sam?” Lucy said

               “That’s it! Oh I love those things, will ya?” Sam said eagerly

               “Sure Sam.  You know it’s amazing your heart doesn’t stop with all that sugar” Lucy said playfully

               “Ain’t nothing stopping this old heart Lucy” Sam said with a wink and a laugh as Lucy shook her head and made her way down the street to the store.

               As Lucy was leaving she saw Miss. Freeman brushing the fallen peddles and cigarette butts away from her flower shop.  She smiled and waved and Lucy waved back.  Freeman’s Flower Shop.  Read in big pink lettering above the front door.  It had been there before her parent’s ever moved in.  Miss. Freeman might even be older than Sam.  Every morning at 6 AM sharp she came outside to set up assortments of flowers she had prepared the night before.  From there, she created beautiful works of art for any customer that set foot in her store.  Rumor has it that she saved six marriages, thanks to the arrangements she made for the sorry individuals.  She always gave Lucy a new variety of roses to place on her windowsill every week. She was a simple, nice old lady and everyone loved her.  Despite the negative rumors about Harlem, this block was Shangri-La, and Miss. Freeman’s Flower Shop was at the heart of it.

               Lucy was gone for some time before returning.  Sam was still sitting on the hard concrete steps watching the world go by.  He was now sipping the mug of coffee he always had midday, black and piping hot.

               “Ah there’s my girl, you got my sticks.” Sam said

               “Oh crap! I knew I forgot something.” Lucy said looking through her bags. “Wait a second, what’s this…” Lucy said with a mischievous grin tossing Sam a handful of Pixy sticks in various colors.

               “Yous always was a trickster, just like your mother” Sam said

               Lucy chuckled as a somber look spread across her face.

               “You miss her don’t cha?” Sam asked

               “I really do.  I think about her a lot, wishing she was here to talk to.  She always knew the right things to say.  Not that you don’t Sam.” Lucy said quickly correcting herself.

               “I know, I miss her too.” Sam said

               “Well I think I have an idea, I’m gonna go to work.”

               “Good lucky Lucy, I’ll be here if ya need me.”

               Lucy slowly made her way upstairs dwelling on her mother.  Her mom had passed away when Lucy turned 21.  She spent the months prior watching her mom rot away in a hospital bed.  Dying of cancer.  She had forgotten where it started but remembered where it spread.  She reminisced on the good.  The love her mom taught her and how to be a strong and independent woman.  Her mom had to be strong, being an immigrant and single mom.

[redbeardlucido-blog]

The Masterpiece (short story) work in progress

“Whatcha got there Lucy?”

Lucy was so determined to get back to her apartment she didn’t comprehend her name being called?

               “Lucy you ok? I said whatcha got there?”

               “I’m sorry Sam, I’m in one of my moods”

Lucy said with a smile, her voice was soft and sweet, the voice crafted to read children’s books.

               “Oh it’s alright, I know how you are…so you gonna tell me what you got?”

               “Do I even have to say it?” “Let’s see…Some new brushes, some scratchpads, paint and oh! What’s this?”

Lucy said jokingly as she held a handful of Pixi sticks, various colours.

               “I swear Sam you eat enough of these you aren’t going to have any teeth, these are the last I’m gonna buy for you”

Lucy tossed the Pixi Sticks to Sam as he laughed.  Sam was an elderly black man that sat on the steps of their apartment from the early hours of the morning until the sun fell beneath the horizon. He was handsome for his age, gray hair that rested atop his head, that with just the right amount of wind would blow what’s left of it away like a dandelion on a summer day.  His nose was wide and his smile wider, his happiness was contagious and despite what he’s been through you couldn’t meet a friendlier man.  His eyes had seen the world and talking with him for a day wouldn’t be enough to know his story.  In that brain held years of knowledge and mysteriousness that only Sam knew.

               “Alright Sam are you good out here? I’m about to start a new project.”

               “You go on ahead Lucy”

Lucy made her way into the run down 135th street apartment in Harlem, New York City.  From the outside it was a beautiful piece of American history.  When the sun shown across the red brick as it descended into night, the apartment was a true work of art, so much that it was one of Lucy’s finest paintings.  Upon entering the apartment one would quickly realize why rent was so cheap.  It’s as if this apartment was a once beautiful cancer patient living out its last days.  At quick glance there was beauty to be seen on the outside, but looking inside was a dying, decrepit, disgusting mess.  Each door bore the wear and tear of a family’s history everyone different than the next.  Of the four floors the third, where Lucy resided had the most interesting smell, you wanted to throw up and grab a plate of whatever was cooking at the same time. It wasn’t paradise but it was home to Lucy.

Lucy lived on the third floor, Apartment J.  This had been her home ever since she was a baby.  Her parents had moved here when they were just 19.  At such young age they worked hard and took pride in their home.  When Lucy was born everything seemed complete, they were living the American dream. However before they knew it they were living the American nightmare.  Lucy’s father was a serviceman and after the attacks of September 11th he was deployed overseas and 7 months later came back in a metal casket.  This was Lucy’s third painting.  After her father’s departure Lucy’s mother had to pick up multiple jobs leaving no time to raise Lucy.  Luckily around this time there was a knock on their door, and standing there smiling was none other than Sam.

He had just moved in to the apartment across the hall and was giving a friendly neighborly hello.  It was unusual to see someone so friendly around this time but it was just what they needed.  Sam became a father to Lucy, teaching her all he knew.  He would tell her stories from when he traveled the world and all the adventures that ensued.  No one knew if they were true, but no one questioned Sam, as they were entertaining enough.  The stories stopped the moment Lucy picked up drawing, from that point on Sam devoted all his time to teaching Lucy about art.