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Find a muse, find a fuse

Who is your muse? Your mentor, confidant, teacher? Who do you look up to?

All questions we’ve been asked many times. Usually there is a simple answer like a celebrity or musician. I’ve had trouble identifying mine; but I’ve always been looking to the wrong stars. I see people go head over heels for their favorite singer or artist while I sit and wonder who mine is. I have always enjoyed Rihanna, but not all of her work. The same goes for Pink, Beyonce, MGMT, Foster the People, so on and so forth. Maybe I don’t have a favorite celebrity or artist. Could that be possible? Living in this world saturated with Entertainment news and socialites taking up the screens and leading the packs. It had never been a bummer to me, but the answer came while standing in the check-out aisle at Sprouts.

I solely walked into the store for three vegetables. After quickly gathering them I made my way to the front. Originally I began inspecting the organic chap-sticks and candies, but then my eyes fell on a black and white photo of Albert Einstein. His face intelligently looking at me with the background fading off into a deep black. There is always something mysterious about this man in every one of his pictures; seeing the TIME magazine stamp over the top set my hands in an inevitable motion for grabbing what I wanted. Though I only intended to purchase a cluster of garlic, a roma tomato, and small amount of basil; I instead bought the answer I couldn’t come up with when questioned. My muse, or favorite person, was far from mainstream media. They, as I quickly realized, are dead men.

 

Inspired by the stories they told the world, their legacies, and remaining alive to this day though inevitably buried six feet under. These men went about their business proving to themselves who they were, and in such, defining the impression they would make on the world.

Social media, let alone mainstream, focus on celebrities as gods. Everything about them is newsworthy. It’s no wonder people cling to these stories for inspiration, or simply something to talk about. Considering drama drives much of today’s social circles it isn’t such a crazy idea. However, there is something to be said about the men I admire. Their findings, work, and lives continue to have a direct effect on all those living today. I guess you could say my celebrities have drama of their own, like Steven Hawkings expanding on Einsteins findings, or Fitzgerald getting a remake of the Great Gatsby rather than a redo of Hemingway’s A Moveable feast. Tesla, I’m sure, is turning in his grave with all this “news” of electric cars being the future!

So my guys have their drama too. However it’s “nerdy” and requires more thought than speculating a dress on the red carpet. It might take watching Interstellar about twenty times before finally understanding the space-time continuum, and thus the great debate on what makes up our universe and the many theories trying to explain which has yet to be explained. As many continue to grovel at the feat of those celebrities who just so happen to be doing their job, at times, I will happily stand by the boys who have given me hope and inspiration through everything. Even when the hardest of problems were before me, I knew there was a way through it. Whether it be one true sentence, or one “simple” equation that would finally come after years of brooding over the obstacle. It is in this realization which sparked a fuse within me, encouraging my path forward. They are, after all, just a few of the people I look up to and respect. Thank you Gentlemen for being my muses.

And thank you for reading just another one of my rants!

Caleb A. Mertz

Sentence flow in…

The tables against the wall were only occupied by a single man playing on his laptop. The distance of the search was several miles, though the city was only a few blocks long. I had peered into every sidewalk window that I could. I made myself uncomfortable as I frantically searched for a place to sit with an outlet near by. The laptop doesn’t hold a charge anymore, so being completely wireless is impossible. The people watchers watched as I passed time and time again, going down different roads in my hunt.

I had a complex. I don’t spend much time in a city, so I wanted to experience it the best I could. I wanted to be able to hunch over my story while people passed, greeted, conversed, or glanced at me. I wanted people to see me sitting in a cafe, with the bold font across my screen “CHAPTER ONE.” I finally wound up where I had initially parked in a relatively busy part of Arlington Virginia’s Business District. Starbucks. They’re everywhere, yet I found my home here.

After ordering my venti iced quad caramel macchiato, I began to review my book THE UNEXPECTED. I decided to revamp my writing, after recently having the partial request denied and seeking feedback from a community of writers on webook.com. Something I noticed immediately was my over use of adjectives, sentence structure, and the constant start and stop of irregular sentences. I began breaking them apart. Since the man next to me was on a conference call, and speaking loudly I decided I could actually read the sentences out loud. Oh My Goodness! I rewrote the first sentence three times, the second twice. Then I read the third, and decided I could combine the third with the first. I HAD A BLAST! Next thing I knew I had a completely transformed initial paragraph. Something that portrayed emotion and feeling. What a rush when you can read something written three years ago in a different light. A different tone. A different sense of the beginning of the story. A renewed sense of joy for rewriting.

Sentence flow. Why haven’t I picked up on this before? I have been taking an on-line course of sorts through M.I.T.
(this is the link here)
which is helping me read and write a little better. The course is entirely free, and the book cost me maybe five dollars through Amazon.com. Pretty much it’s amazing. Definitely check it out! And here’s to happy (re)writing!!!!

As always comment, critique, but with construction in mind.

Caleb A. Mertz