Allow me to explain exactly why we are here. When I was a high-schooler, my favorite subject was English. I loved everything about it; the way that a sentence had separate parts, and how all the words could come together to SAY something. I was totally enamored with linguistics, and remain so today.
My favorite moments in those classes were when we were allowed to do creative writing. One teacher in particular would play sound effects or show a photo to the class, and then we were to write a story based on that sound or image. And everyone's story would be completely original. Mrs. Hipp was probably my favorite teacher because of these lessons. She encouraged me to write more and even mailed letters to my parents asking them to encourage me to write more.
However, when I left high school, I also left writing. Why was I going to write stories when I could be having so much more fun hanging out and partying with my friends? My twenties were there to be enjoyed and enjoy them I did. I don't think I ever thought about picking up a pen in that way for more than ten years. I only wanted two things: to get fucked up, and to get laid. Most of the time I succeeded grandly in the first endeavor, and failed horribly at the second. A ladies man I was not.
At some point along the way I grew up, met a woman who liked me back, and now here I am at almost 38 with a growing family and a brand new home that we haven't even moved into yet. One of the best things about my wife is that she is a lady with ideas, and she likes to share those ideas. A few years ago, Angie and I were discussing what it might be like to co-author a book. The idea, like many, was tossed around and then placed onto a shelf in our minds to gather dust. Very recently this idea returned to me, only this time with a vengeance. And I imagine that for Angie this idea, in a very Travis sort of way, came at the most impractical of times. Here we are in the middle of buying a house and preparing to move with a baby on the way and I'm all, " Hey, Babe! Let's write that book we talked about 4 years ago!"
So I will wait until she is ready and in the meantime work on projects of my own. Because here is the thing, I have already started a couple of projects. A few weeks ago I put pen to paper for the first time in about 20 years, and it felt like a weight being lifted from my mind and soul. I haven't said so to my wife, but this has been therapeutic beyond belief for me. I would imagine that this is how a musician feels when playing, only my instrument is a Pilot gel pen. It's gonna take a little while to brush off the rust, but I think I've got this.
And so, here we are. Me. You. And this blog page. You will notice that I have titled it Traviscerations, a play on my own name and the word eviscerate, which means: to disembowel. Grotesque? Perhaps, but that's kind of the point here. To spill my guts out to you. From time to time I will be sharing with you my thoughts, opinions, ruminations. Sometimes I will be sharing memories, sometimes the present. Some posts may be as simple as a review of an old or new album, and other posts may be confessions that cause those who know me to question who I am. And I hope you have a tolerance for vulgar language and a sick sense of humor, because now and then you'll be getting both. In my opinion, the best writers are those who are honest, whether they write fiction or non-fiction. I want to be honest. This blog will be my pedestal, my confessional, my platform, your entertainment. I hope to serve us both here, you get an interesting read and I get writing experience to hopefully help me in other areas and projects. It'll be fun, I promise.
Soooo... Big breath! I will be fairly absent for the next week and a half or so. Big plans. I have boxes to pack and a new house to move into. But keep your eyes peeled, because the next time that we are here I'll want to tell you about a little game.
Thanx!
Travis
My favorite moments in those classes were when we were allowed to do creative writing. One teacher in particular would play sound effects or show a photo to the class, and then we were to write a story based on that sound or image. And everyone's story would be completely original. Mrs. Hipp was probably my favorite teacher because of these lessons. She encouraged me to write more and even mailed letters to my parents asking them to encourage me to write more.
However, when I left high school, I also left writing. Why was I going to write stories when I could be having so much more fun hanging out and partying with my friends? My twenties were there to be enjoyed and enjoy them I did. I don't think I ever thought about picking up a pen in that way for more than ten years. I only wanted two things: to get fucked up, and to get laid. Most of the time I succeeded grandly in the first endeavor, and failed horribly at the second. A ladies man I was not.
At some point along the way I grew up, met a woman who liked me back, and now here I am at almost 38 with a growing family and a brand new home that we haven't even moved into yet. One of the best things about my wife is that she is a lady with ideas, and she likes to share those ideas. A few years ago, Angie and I were discussing what it might be like to co-author a book. The idea, like many, was tossed around and then placed onto a shelf in our minds to gather dust. Very recently this idea returned to me, only this time with a vengeance. And I imagine that for Angie this idea, in a very Travis sort of way, came at the most impractical of times. Here we are in the middle of buying a house and preparing to move with a baby on the way and I'm all, " Hey, Babe! Let's write that book we talked about 4 years ago!"
So I will wait until she is ready and in the meantime work on projects of my own. Because here is the thing, I have already started a couple of projects. A few weeks ago I put pen to paper for the first time in about 20 years, and it felt like a weight being lifted from my mind and soul. I haven't said so to my wife, but this has been therapeutic beyond belief for me. I would imagine that this is how a musician feels when playing, only my instrument is a Pilot gel pen. It's gonna take a little while to brush off the rust, but I think I've got this.
And so, here we are. Me. You. And this blog page. You will notice that I have titled it Traviscerations, a play on my own name and the word eviscerate, which means: to disembowel. Grotesque? Perhaps, but that's kind of the point here. To spill my guts out to you. From time to time I will be sharing with you my thoughts, opinions, ruminations. Sometimes I will be sharing memories, sometimes the present. Some posts may be as simple as a review of an old or new album, and other posts may be confessions that cause those who know me to question who I am. And I hope you have a tolerance for vulgar language and a sick sense of humor, because now and then you'll be getting both. In my opinion, the best writers are those who are honest, whether they write fiction or non-fiction. I want to be honest. This blog will be my pedestal, my confessional, my platform, your entertainment. I hope to serve us both here, you get an interesting read and I get writing experience to hopefully help me in other areas and projects. It'll be fun, I promise.
Soooo... Big breath! I will be fairly absent for the next week and a half or so. Big plans. I have boxes to pack and a new house to move into. But keep your eyes peeled, because the next time that we are here I'll want to tell you about a little game.
Thanx!
Travis
