Brian C. Russell

I… am a terrible person when it comes to promoting myself.  To an extent where I should probably get locked up in a room with my fingers glued together.  Maybe that’s a bit extreme.

Either way, I have hardly any bounds when it comes to promoting things that I like, in particular, things I do.  Which is interesting because I don’t typically find myself all that selfish, but I guess this is sort of an indicator of that.  Perhaps the Internet is where my inner-narcissist is allowed to thrive.  Like mold in a warm moist environment.

So, I’ve compiled a top-five list of things I’ve done (past and present) as a confession of sorts and potentially as a guide for how others can be just as sad and pathetic as I am.

1. Social bookmarking yourself. I would love to tell you that I’ve weened myself off of this obsession, but I can’t help it.  Most of the people that read my things don’t use social bookmarking links or anything though, so this normally doesn’t go anywhere.
2. Hiding the fact that it’s your link you’re tweeting because you already tweeted it several times already. Yep.  This is one that I often fall prey to.  I’m not harping on when you tweet a link twice a day, but it’s when you use a quote or something instead of calling it a new post, story, comic or whatever you post just so that people don’t recognize that it’s the same post and generating another click/hit/visit for you.
3. Following everyone in the world of Twitter just so they’ll follow you back. Or over-exaggerating.  Seriously though.  This is what the spammers do.  I realize that following-back is what people on Twitter tell you to do… but when you’re intentionally just finding Twitter lists that have big names or lots of names and following them without knowing, liking, or whatever simply to have more followers… it’s bad news.  I have been cutting back on this.  Sorry to all the real estate and SEO people… I guess.
4. Signing up for multiple accounts and liking, tweeting, bookmarking your own stuff. Back when AOL Instant Messenger was popular, I had about 12 different accounts.  I don’t know why.  These days… if they don’t require an email address, and even if they do, I probably have an unhealthy supply of logins.  I generally justify it in my brain by saying that my stuff would never make it to the surface if it wasn’t approved by at least two other people first… or 11…
5. Writing your reviews for things on Amazon that reference your book. It was at a low point in my life when I did this dirty deed.  But, at one time, when I was into my book sales in full-swing, I would find books that I thought were similar in nature and more popular.  Write a review of their book that compared it to my own.  Something along the lines of “This is a cool book, but I really like Battle for Arkwood a little bit more.”  This combined with #4 is a super-shame combo.

I am sorry, Internet.

Sort of.

You know what the worst part is?  Those all work.  So, if you’re a cold-blooded shame-monger like myself, go ahead and spiral out of control.  You’re guaranteed to get some traffic/sales.

Just don’t be surprised when everyone hates you for it.

What’s a sh

Okay.

I’ve been hearing a lot lately about Creation again, and apparently this is a big issue for non-believers about Christianity because APPARENTLY we all think the Earth was created 6,000 years ago.

WHAT!?

How in the universe could the world only be 6,000 years old?  And what’s this I hear about dinosaur bones being in the ground as a cosmic joke to the human race from God?!  Is there a Christian archeologist out there, digging up fossils going… “Where’s Ashton?  I’m getting punk’d aren’t I?!”

No wonder people don’t believe this!  It’s ridiculous.

Where in the Bible does it say the Earth’s publication date?  Why is it sooo crazy to believe in the scientific evidence that the Earth is 4.6 billion years old?  It explains a whole lot about the Earth, how it was shaped, why we have earthquakes and volcanoes, etc.  Why is that crazy to believe in… but an unproveable and unreasonable 6,000 years (which… doesn’t even account for really anything…)?

This is frustrating to me.  I have a few people that have mentioned that this very issue is the reason they don’t believe in Jesus (which is a whole other story… but still)!  Why are we stubborn on this?  Does allowing 4.6 billion years come too close to the possibility of evolution being involved?  Why can’t dinosaurs have lived!?

What’s the deal?

Discussions ahoy!

I always try to walk through rain.  Unaffected.

I see people running around me.  Umbrellas and coats.  Struggling to hold anything over their heads to stay dry.  Prancing around through the puddles like they’re going to melt.

Not me.  I walk through the puddles.

I try to act tough, like the rain doesn’t affect me at all.  I look around at all the scurrying people thinking about how much more zen or something.  I feel cool as I walk.  Like I don’t even notice it’s raining.  Your fears and worries don’t affect me.

But… they do.

I’m still getting wet.  Potentially more than the people running as if they’re going to melt.  Why do I not just pick up the pace and not get soaked.  Being soaked is not cool.

Do I have some sort of brain malfunction that causes me to think it’s cool to not feel things?  Or not care about things?  To pretend like I’m not getting wet?  Like I’m not pissed that the bottom of my jeans are soaked and are going to drip all over the car?

Is this peace?  Is this pacifism?

No.

It’s apathy, and it’s corrosive.

Not the act of walking in the rain, but the mentality of pretending like things that affect you aren’t.  Like they aren’t there.  When it rains, you get wet, whether you walk or run.  But people who acknowledge the rain are better off than the ones that don’t.

This is part two of the story.  For those of you not familiar with oral biography format, it’s a very interesting storying format that uses quotes from sources to assemble the plot.  It’s sort of a written documentary.  So, enjoy.  Okay?

********

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“I still remember my mom’s face when she heard that guy talk. He said that Paul, the dad I never knew, the man mom never talked about, the guy who walked out us, had said he was sorry for it. The apology didn’t mean anything to me. I never knew the guy, but my mom—I could tell something was up.”

William Forner, Friend

“That was the first time I met Michele Winston. I still can’t believe Paul asked me to do that for him, but what’s a friend to do with a dying wish?”

Michele Winston, Ex-wife

“Jeffrey was angry that Paul would only apologize when he was dying, but it set me back. For so long I had been so angry at him for leaving. I—I had to forgive him.”

William Forner, Friend

“I knocked, and this kid opens the door. I asked to speak to his mom, and he asked who I was. I didn’t know what else to say, so I said I was his dad’s friend. He looked like I just punched him in the gut.”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“Mom invited the guy in for dinner. I didn’t understand at all what she was doing.”

Michele Winston, Ex-wife

“The poor guy. He’d been given this mission by a friend, and what a good friend he was being. I kept telling Jeffrey that you can’t kill the messenger, but it sure seemed like he wanted to. I just wanted this man, William, I think, to know that just because Paul left us, he wasn’t a bad man. I guess I should have tried that with Jeffrey. I never did tell him about the letters.”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“After dinner, she starts digging around in her closet for something. I didn’t think she hid anything in her closet, not even Christmas presents, but here she comes to the table with a shoe box. I thought she had just finally lost it. I didn’t know what to think.”

William Forner, Friend

“Can you believe that? She invited me in for dinner. Then, she pulls out this box with all these letters in it. She said she didn’t want me to think badly about Paul because of her and her son. She hands me one of the letters, it was dated two days before he died.”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“So, here I am, sitting at the table with a friend from my dad’s other life, and my mom hands him a letter from my dad, that I had never seen before. She never showed me any letters. I’m pretty sure some food fell out of my mouth. I was mad at her for never showing me those letters, and she said she was sorry, but I was so mad that I didn’t understand. I ran to my room and slammed the door.”

William Forner, Friend

“The letter said that even though he hadn’t heard from her, he still loved her. It said that he was very sorry for what had happened, and wanted them to come visit him. To let it all out in the open. So he could help with Jeffrey. I was blown away. Then Jeffrey stormed off, and Michele was crying. I was way out of my league.”

Sandra Winston, Ex-wife

“I don’t know why I never showed them to Jeffrey. I guess I figured it would be easier without Paul altogether. I know now that I was wrong. You can’t hold on to grudges, and I realized I had passed mine to my son. I pulled out a Bible and went to Jeffrey’s door. I knocked, and he told me to go away. I tried to tell him that I loved him. I was sorry that I never told him about Paul, but that I had always hoped that God would help me. I read Matthew 6:14-15 through the door. You know, the one about forgiving people when they sin against you so that God will forgive you, and if you don’t then He won’t forgive you either.”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“I clearly remember something that my mom said through the door that night that changed my whole life. She said, ‘Jeffrey, you have to help me forgive your father. I raised you to hate him and I’m sorry. He wasn’t a bad man.’ I couldn’t believe it. God spoke to me right then-and-there. I opened the door and hugged my mom. Without her, I might never know God’s forgiveness.

For those of you not familiar with oral biography format, it’s a very interesting storying format that uses quotes from sources to assemble the plot.  It’s sort of a written documentary.  So, this is part one of a story that I crafted.  Thursday will be part two.  Enjoy.

*********

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“He was a great man. Strong, tall, affluent. An all-around good man. So I hear. I never really knew him much, but that’s what Mom said. My mom got checks, and I got stories. She said he had left on business when I was old enough to ask. When I was old enough to figure out the truth, I didn’t bother with the issue. It never came up. I was fine. We didn’t need him. That’s how these things go. Right?”

Rev. Thomas Goodum, Senior Pastor of Northrup Methodist Church

“Mr. Stenten was always in church. Every Sunday. He never missed a service, and was always volunteering. I’m not supposed to give away these details, but, Mr. Stenten was one of our biggest financial supporters. We were blessed to have him as a member.”

Michele Winston, Ex-wife

“I never had the heart to tell Jeffrey about his dad. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted him to believe his daddy was a good man. I’m sure he figured it out by now. He is seventeen. Paul always brought me flowers in the beginning. He told me he loved me, and I loved him. Then, we got pregnant and my daddy nearly killed me. Paul married me. He said he’d love me forever. I guess forever’s shorter than I remember.”

William Forner, Friend

“He told me once that he made a lot of mistakes in his past. I just thought he meant that he drank too much during college and hurled all over the place. I never did ask what they were. I guess I assumed he was fine. He had a good job. He went to church. A wife and kid. Sandra would always cook food for us at his Super Bowl Parties, and little Andy was a really cute kid. Everything seemed fine.”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“I never told my mom, but one time, I googled my dad’s name. That’s how I found out about his family. Sandy or something and a baby. They looked happy.”

Sandra Stenten, Wife

“He wasn’t a secretive man, but there were some things that he kept to himself. Who am I to pry into his business? He insisted on separate bank accounts when we got married. He told me he had some credit card debt and didn’t want to pass it onto me. He was always thinking of me and little Andy first.”

Rev. Thomas Goodum, Senior Pastor of Arkwood Baptist Church

“You know, I never did see him at the altar, but he was well liked and in a high position in the Outreach Committee. There’re some people that you just, well, you just know they’ll be all right.

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“I remember crying when I found out about the other family. I never said a word to my mom. Why would I? She never said anything about him. She probably already knows.

Rev. Thomas Goodum, Senior Pastor of Arkwood Baptist Church

“The day we got the news that he was in the hospital, there were just so many people that came. We were all praying, but the Lord has bigger plans. Sometimes we just don’t understand them, but I know that Paul is up in Heaven, right now, praising and worshipping with Jesus.

Michele Winston, Ex-wife

“I didn’t know what to do when he died. He left us. He left us… What was I supposed to tell Jeffrey? That the father that he never knew was dead? I didn’t want to bother Jeffrey with that. He doesn’t need to feel that sadness. Not for him.”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“You know, I didn’t cry when I found out. Why would I have? It was just like reading anyone else’s obituary. Not like I knew the guy.”

Sandra Stenten, Wife

“We’re going to miss him so much… He was such a great man. I loved him and he loved me.”

William Forner, Friend

“The night before he died, he told me about his other marriage. He said no one knew. He said he was sorry, but didn’t know what to do. He asked me to tell them. Can you believe that?”

Jeffrey Winston, Son

“So, then this guy shows up at our house saying he was my dad’s friend. Will or something. He said that my dad had told him to tell us that he was sorry for leaving. You know how that feels? Like a bunch of nothing. Like I said, I never knew the guy.”

On Sundays, my wife and I work in our church’s nursery with the babies up to a few 4-5 year olds.  One of the boys that we almost always get, named Kevin, has been helping me, every Sunday morning, to create a special, crayon-colored edition of The Underfold called Bunny Foo Foo Adventures.

It’s about a superhero, ninja bunny (Bunny Foo Foo) and his sidekick Rocky the Rock Lobster as they battle the random crime that is committed in their undefined location.  This was an idea that started long ago when I first realized my desire to draw comics.  I based it on my toys, even my stuffed bunny, Bunny Foo Foo.

Our partnership is great.  He’s the creative genius behind most of the storylines, and I draw it (and lately, he’s been doing the coloring for me too).  The funny part is that, as a writer, sometimes it feels like I need to stretch a story across two comics instead of finishing it in just one.  It builds suspense and draws people back.

Kevin wants the bad guy to get caught, beat up, and put in jail.  Period.

Ever since we started doing this on Sundays, I’ve been struck by his 5 year old sense of justice.  Everything’s black and white.  There is no gray area.  Stealing is bad, you go to jail.

This is why most of the comics end with the bad guy in handcuffs or in jail.

I keep telling him that we’re going to run out of bad guys this way, but I figure eventually, they’ll all break out and try to team up together.  The idea of an archenemy that always eludes capture is a foreign idea for Kevin, and therefore, it has yet to happen.

It’s kind of refreshing because sometimes I get tired of writing from the bad guy’s perspective.  Emoting his intentions and his feelings about why he’s doing something bad.  Giving him excuses.  Finding reasons for his evil.  Trying to get the audience to feel even the slightest amount of pity for them.

To Kevin, they’re bad guys.  They go to jail.

And that’s a sense of justice.

If you want to read his sense of justice, check out the Sunday Edition of The Underfold:  Bunny Foo Foo Adventures!

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen the show before.  No.  I had.  I watched it every Tuesday night at seven.  I even watched the reruns that came on for an hour block at noon.  I watched people interrupted in the midst of some of the weirdest things.  I even saw one that involved masks and a donkey.  I don’t even want to know.

I didn’t have an excuse, is what I’m trying to say.  I watched a show about getting caught.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

Not that I had a donkey and masks involved.  Goodness.  To be honest, there wasn’t anything remotely sexual involved.  At least not on my end.  I guess I can assume from television and movies that men are always out for one thing.  But, I’d like to think that it wasn’t.  A girl can have her dreams.

I’d love to explain away my transgressions with all the excuses I made up, but they’re the same reasons I got their in the first place.  Maybe I was bored.  Maybe I just liked that the guy paid me some attention.  My husband works all the time, and, well, I honestly figured he was cheating on me too.  There I go again.  Excuses, excuses, Jenn.

Apparently, my husband hired an investigator to follow me around.  Take pictures of me and my… what do you call a male version of a mistress?  Funny that they haven’t come up with a word for that, or maybe they have, it’s just not on TV.  Anyway, the guy was in his car taking pictures of me and my, I’ll call him boyfriend, as we were out on a date, something my husband and I hadn’t done in ages.  We went to Chili’s.  I know, I know, Chili’s? Like I said, I hadn’t been on a date in a long time.

Thing is, my husband catches up to the guy, the private investigator, and tells him to hold up.  That it was all his fault.  That it was his fault. I know, right?

Imagine my surprise when my husband is sitting on the couch when I’m sneaking in that night.  He says to me, “Jenn, I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you.”

Me?  I start balling my eyes out.  I was a wreck for weeks.  Well, okay, I still haven’t gotten over it, but I was really bad, like soap opera bad for at least two weeks.

My husband throws his arms around me and starts crying too.  He says he knows all about the affair and that he doesn’t care.  He just wants me back.  He wants to go to counseling, cut his hours at work, go out on dates.  This isn’t how that TV show goes.  It’s always a fight and it always ends poorly.  That’s why people watch it.  There’s conflict.

But here’s my husband, crying like I do at the end of The Notebook, and saying that he wants to change.  That he forgives me.

The guy loves me so much that he’s willing to forgive an affair?

Now that’s something you don’t see on TV.