The Goldilocks Dinner

A Polaris actor

Black laced coat

Magically endearing

Artiest lines spoke

Next to my hero

Breathing in the fanciful air

I asked how he came up with

Such a profound performance

He said “It’s all in the hair”

That was quite true

As this Hollywood icon tipped his brass

Gold shining hair

With the reflective nature of glass

You get to plan a dinner party for 4-8 of your favorite writers/artists/musicians/other notable figures, whether dead or alive. Who do you seat next to whom in order to inspire the most fun evening?

Which blonde hair actor (or actress) am I talking about in the poem? There are number of right answers and they all would be exceptional choices to sit next to and have a fun evening. From Brad Pitt to Neil Patrick Harris to Matthew McConaughey, to famous women like Reese Witherspoon (or without), Patricia Arquette, and Marilyn Monroe, my blonde dinner squad would be a dream come true. It’s not like I have a big thing for blondes, it just rhymed well in the poem.

Share Your World – 2015 Week #47

In your native language which letter or character describes you best?  Why?

I can be described best by the letter “X”. It is the universal symbol for anything that is unknown. In my life there are a lot of unknowns. X is also a letter that meets at a crossroads, with the four ends of the letter being options, a couple I’m always weighing. I’m also erasing a lot of ideas that don’t pan out or satisfy me, as is X’s meaning of deleting or removing.

What is your greatest extravagance?

My camera, laptop, and phone. Also Milky Way bars and York peppermint patties.

Do you prefer exercising your mind or your body? How frequently do you do either?

Definitely my mind because I’m usually a lazy bum who gets tired after one push-up. I exercise my mind everyday with blogging, reading various news articles, and some interesting games. Actual body exercise is walking around outside while listening to music through my headphones. I do that when I’m bored essentially.

List at least 5 things that make you laugh.

  1. Funny YouTube videos
  2. The Big Bang Theory, Family Guy, and other comedies.
  3. Ironic situations
  4. When I play practical jokes on my family
  5. When my mom tells the cats to listen to her and behave, while I listen in the other room, as if they understand her every word.
  6. Horror movies in which every cliche of that genre is carried out, such as someone going upstairs or into the basement, and knowing beforehand what is going to happen.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I am grateful that the Lions have finally won two games in a row, beating
Green Bay at Lambeau last week (first time in 24 years) and Oakland at home this week. Obviously, I am looking forward to America’s Thanksgiving, which is what I said in the previous iteration of SYW.

Latest Share Your World

Home of Many Strange Winters

Tahquamenon Falls, with its loud rushing waters, is a place I would like to visit again someday. I last went there as a thirteen year old, remembering how I had to roll up my pant legs when wading through the shallow water with my two other siblings. There are pictures of us crossing under a concrete bridge spotted with grafitti, awkwardly riding in a paddle boat in the chilly water of Lake Superior, and standing on a rocky cliff overlooking the magnificent wonder of Northern Michigan. I must had really looked the part in my “Wolf Lodge” shirt, but had a hard time posing for the camera because of my new pants being too big that I had to hold them up (the beginning of my belt years).

Twelve favorite places of mine I’ve been to in Michigan:

  1. Mackinaw City, Upper Peninsula – going to breakfast at Audie’s Chippewa Room, sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair while staring up at a menu on the wall wondering if there is anything different than in the LP.
  2. Downtown Ann Arbor art festival – being more interested in my delicious bratwurst than any of the many paintings and sculptures set up in the streets.
  3. Fifth grade camp at Mystic Lake in Clare – be very afraid of Bruno
  4. The historic Michigan Theatre
  5. Michigan International Speedway – getting sunburnt in the “cheap seats” behind pit row.
  6. Tahquamenon Falls, Upper Peninsula
  7. Sleeping Bear Dunes, Empire – trying to reach the Lake Huron shore miles away, etching my name in a wooden post that I would like to try to find again someday.
  8. Hell, Michigan – an icecream shop, that’s about it
  9. Jiffy Mix factory in Chelsea
  10. The Henry Ford museum in Dearborn
  11. Ford Field and Comerica Park in Detroit
  12. Dahlem Nature Center in Jackson


Here in the Great Lakes state, our word for soda is “pop”, as in “Can we get a bottle of pop to go with our pizza tonight?” Though, I haven’t heard it been used in a number of years because of me and other close family members having cut down on consumption of the carbonated beverage. “Pop” was what I heard frequently during my preteen years, like late ’90s to the early naughts, but now I rarely hear it be used at all, even if a recent chart says 90% of the people in my hometown use it.

Where I come from, there aren’t really any accents, but rather we all sound like typical Americans. Except for the few people I’ve met from other countries such as Australia, Japan, and Germany – some of them foreign exchange students at my high school – the majority is straight speaking English.

If there’s one thing that defines my immediate region, it is acres and acres of fertile farmland by country roads, most of the homegrown vegetables and fruits going to the local supermarket store, previously known as “Thrifty Acres”, accessible by a main strip of fast food restaurants named after the city airport – which is nowhere near that but so isn’t the city of Michigan City, which is in Indiana.

The one other big thing that my modest looking town is known for, even by people in far flung places around the country, is it was formerly the home of one of the biggest prison’s in America – so at least we’re not a total afterthought. Oh, and we are home to Tyler Oakley, the flamboyant YouTube personality, so there’s a slice of glamorous fame for us.

Other things we’re known for:

  • Bridge Cards
  • 10 cent bottle returns
  • Bad drivers
  • Complaints about gas prices
  • Random weather

Write about whatever you’d like, but write using regional slang, your dialect, or in your accent.

Day and Night

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Whited out the world
November’s dream just come true
Day as pure as angels

Then the night comes
And all goes silent
And we are free to
Rock out like a

In Response to the Daily Prompt: A Tale of Two Cities

If you could split your time evenly between two places, and two places only, which would these be?

The Hatching: Trio

The Hatching
What came first? The egg or the chicken? And many more philosophical questions. This is a picture I got from the zoo of a three phase story: egg, hatching, new born chicken.

Let’s have the sensational Ryan Higa try to deduce the age old question:

Did you get that?

In Response to the Weekly Photo challenge: Trio


Fallen Tree Breeze

 photo eyescovered_zpsvf6r9flb.jpg photo treeperspective_zpstcgvvrqv.jpg photo sky2_zps76qubnjx.jpg photo treeperspective2_zps6plhnnqc.jpg

Daily Prompt: The Power of Touch

Nimble fingers run
Through my breezy hair
Soft and swooped to the side
Brown as coffee beans

The fallen tree’s bark
Rings of mighty age within
Years of weathered beating
One bolt of lightning
Bringing down a warrior
Of the ancient land

Resting my head on
Rough, mossy texture
The shining sun
Shielding my eyes
Staring up at azure
Pillows on a canvas

Trekking through the
Thick maize meadow
Powerlines overhead
Dangerous wind
Ominous and forbidding

A reminder of a nightmare
In which death chased me
And there was no way out
Thrashing through
Tall tangled branches
Evening sun on the way

Textures are everywhere: The rough edges of a stone wall. The smooth innocence of a baby’s cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture is particularly evocative to you?

New Kid On the Block

Daily Prompt: The Outsiders

The summer of 2003 will always be the turning point in my life. My small clan moved away into an old farmhouse located way back in the sticks, nearly isolated except for another house that was on the other side of some trees. It was hot, it was sticky. That ratty couch I initially slept on. The lights were old, the water was bad. Nothing in the fridge was good to eat. Cupboards full of mysterious items, many of them probably over 20 years old. About 20 cats were walking around, most of them mean and unfriendly – one always hid in the ceiling that I blocked off with a wine rack one day, the cat trying to get in to my amusement. I had no room because the upstairs was taken by my sisters, so I had to construct one out of wooden boards that were lying against the door, dividing a place off in the living room. Slept on a mattress lying on the floor. It was dusty and dirty. A window was broken where I slept, letting flies and cold air in. Life couldn’t have dropped any further for me after living in what I thought was an immaculate palace compared to these conditions. For the first time, we were actually living like hillbillies. My mom even had this idea to hang clothes on a line outside but abandoned it, to my relief. Thankfully, we aren’t living there anymore.

For the first time, I would be going to a new school in a new city where I knew no one at all and no one knew small town me. Middle school. Sixth grade. The big transition in my life, going away from the kiddies in elementary to the beginning of my teenager life and beyond. I turned 12 and though I didn’t know it yet, my own body was betraying me. Sprouting up acne all over, my nose growing at least an inch.

There was never a time like middle school. It had to be the worst transitional period in my life. I was constantly laughed at and the target of finger pointing and whispers. And it didn’t help that I couldn’t say anything back. Truly an outsider I was during that long and torturous year. I really missed my old friends back in my hometown, who would have understood what I was going through and might have supported me, since they totally knew what I was like.

The kids let me have it during the first few days of sixth grade. I was teased and made fun of. My old pair of jeans were too short and my new shirts were from the clearance rack – stuff nobody wanted anymore. Was called a geek. Pathetic and shy. Endured ridicule and humility everyday.

The demographics at this school were completely flipped. At my previous school, it was all Caucasian, but here the majority was African-American with whites mixed in. In my homeroom class, I really felt out of place. Sat at the back at the room in front of one student who didn’t like the way I smelled, which was true because I had never taken the task of bathing seriously until this point of my life. It seemed as if noone liked me, not even the teachers. I cried once when I had a paper late and the teacher called me out on it, singling me out. I buried my head in my arms, already feeling eyes on me and the humility.

The final day of sixth grade, I sat by myself on a hill in the back of the school overlooking everyone, taking in one of the worst years of my life. This was the end of the year picnic for all the students and faculty. It was supposed to be a great day with everyone being cheerful, and that everyone was, except me. I guess I just had a chip on my shoulder after spending the entire year as the definite outsider, all these insults being directed at me. It wasn’t made any better when a teacher quietly whispered about my appearance while I was getting some icecream from a table, burying me deeper into this yearlong depression. Really immature, I must say.

Seventh grade was better, the insults dying down, but the teasing and taunting a bigger annoyance – and my grades plummeted. I got an F in a class for the very first time. At least I made a couple of friends this year and actually had some fun and was able to laugh along.

Eighth grade was an enlightenment. I moved back home to familiar territory. Now I started to earn respect. I was feeling older and more wiser now. My grades improved, but I still was terrible at math, especially Algebra that I was just getting my feet wet in.

And from there, everything only got better, the horrible pubescent years forever over. It’s been ten years since I left that poor school. I now look back on it and laugh, now realizing it wasn’t that big of a deal after all.

Tell us about the experience of being outside, looking in — however you’d like to interpret that.

Am I A Writer? Or Pretender?

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. ~Ray Bradbury”

Writing is my way of escaping reality, the reality that I am just an ordinary average guy living at home who is unemployed and hasn’t dated in over five years. A way of escaping the reality that I just don’t have the pure comedic talent to punch myself out of a box. Writing is a way of relaying my thoughts and smoothing out the jumbled tangle of anger and resentment, that I don’t have access to the more finer things in life, that there is always going to be someone out there is just a little bit better and more successful, who boasts with arrogance and an all too personal attachment to their self. Writing basically makes me feel happy. Doing it everyday is like a fulfillment, every post another installment in the grand library that I am building. The first brick was laid a few years ago and now there is a structure and blueprint to go by. Sorry if I’m getting sentimental again.

I never intended to get drunk on writing but it just hit me one uneventful autumn day. I wanted to explore and dive into storytelling, wanted to learn about other people’s ideas and what inspires them. I wanted to get my story out there, of how I have struggled with always feeling like the second fiddle and never having a chance at anything. How I was always too shy to take the lead and preferred to stay in the background, letting the showrunners continue their dominance and increase of popularity. How being born into a family that is just a notch above being poor is quite a difficult thing because then there’s the self doubt, negative environment, and all-around ceiling of mediocrity that I want to break through. Having an online life outside of my present, plain Jane one gives me a new outlet and another way to develop some seriously juicy skills.

Let’s face it, I am a creative geek who loves to tinker and play around with the inner working of things – I produce but am always going back and changing things, continuing to design. You’ll always see me on my computer, writing blogs, editing pictures, playing games, checking email, or doing other NSFW acts. I have a need to explore my inner-self, to uncover the secret potential that has always been inside myself since I first realized I had a pulse of creativity at a young age. I drew my own superhero team and the worlds they lived in, featuring them in a trilogy of colorful short stories called “Space World” I created. They were really crudely drawn, yes, but it was the most exciting moment in my life.

The future of my writing days is being uncovered everyday. I want it to become a lifelong thing and be a natural part of me. I want to scale the highest peaks and accomplish some big goals. I want to believe in something bigger than myself. I want to look like the picture below when my dreams are finally met:

The Oxford dictionary’s 2015 word of the year, announced yesterday, is an emoji called “Face with Tears of Joy”. It beat out a slew of other potential candidates that would qualify more as words than this. The prestigious dictionary’s thoughts on choosing this were that is was the most used emoji during the year across social media. This is the first time I’ve seen a symbol be chosen to represent the entire English language and it makes me wonder what the future of our language is if a smiley face icon is chosen as a “word”, opening up the door to more absurd possibilities such as examples below:


It’s an impostor, I tell you, posing as the next great advancement in human communication. Let’s just hope it doesn’t find its way into the official dictionary anytime soon.

Can I really call myself a writer yet, if I haven’t published any books? In my own private world, yes. 180+ poems and 200 something longforms later is a reason.

I’m no imposter. I’m just a guy trying to find a crack in the cliff edge to hold onto, so I can continue my climb and not fall down.

I’m no imposter if I have a deep love for what I do. This is all from my own mind, all my spirit being unleashed. I love what I do when it just flows naturally from me and I don’t put so much pressure on myself. My confidence in creating this website only gets better with each passing as more followers enter the “Circle of Mac” and witness the inner working of my mind, all the gears turning, the real me coming out with every post. All I can say to you all is “Thank you for wanting to be my friend.”

In Response to the Daily Prompt: The Great Pretender

Are you full of confidence or have you ever suffered from Imposter Syndrome? Tell us all about it.


Another Last Christmas

I would love to go back and repeat my 24th birthday, since I could be a couple months younger again and refuel my future purpose. I would love to go back and spend time at that hockey game with my siblings, watching the Zamboni reice the rink and a polar bear (mascot) skate down the ice. I would love to relive New Year’s Eve when I accidentally got my dad wet after opening a bottle of shaken champagne and it exploding all over him – on video -, making him go home in silence. But I can’t.

So in the meantime, I’ll reflect on one touching point in my life with a good old poem:

Sonnet No. 2

December of the last
We were all there together
The wrapping paper flowed
All around the room like waves
A holiday dinner
Happy and warm
The delicious ham and potatoes
Before the slice of pumpkin pie

The last Christmas
Was the reunion of time
Everyone moving on
And now we are here again
A little more older, a little more wiser
Looking back on the holidays that defined

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “One More Time.”

If you were able to relive one day from the last 12 months, which day would it be — and why?

Share Your World – 2015 Week #46

What type of popular candy do you not like to get?

What do you feel is the most enjoyable way to spend $500? 

Where do you eat breakfast?

Would you rather ride one of the worlds longest zip lines or bungee jump one of the highest in the world? This will come with a 5-day all expense vacation.

Just six more weeks in 2015? Wow. It’s been quite a year and there still are more events to be packed into the remaining days.

Here are my answers to the questions:
1. There aren’t too many candies I will never buy since they are all so good, but PayDay is definitely one of them. I hate when the caramel gets stuck in my teeth.

2. The last time I had more than $500 in any account of mine, I used it to buy 2010’s Photoshop CS5, which I still have to this day. So I guess you could say I would buy some piece of new software with it, like PS CS6 or CC, because I seriously need to upgrade. Or a
new smartphone, preferably the iPhone. But the most enjoyable way to spend half of 1K is to browse through the stores and maybe not buy something right away but weigh your options. Having no pressure is the best. Online shopping is good in this case. There isn’t anyone around to bug you.

3. On my futon. Sometimes without a plate.

4. Zip lining and bungee jumping are two things I’ve never come close to attempting. I suppose it’s the lesser of two evils here. With zip lining, I can see where I’m heading; with bungee jumping, I’d be afraid of hitting my head on something or falling to my death if the cord ripped. So the
world’s longest zip line. I love a good rush of danger once in a while.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

Well last week, the attacks on Paris happened and I’m grateful that people from multiple countries came together and expressed their thoughts and prayers on the tragedy. It seems as if attacks like these are happening more and more now and the world is becoming an increasingly hostile and dangerous place.


Thanksgiving is coming up next week. I am looking forward to making some of my famous pies and celebrating another little holiday with my family that keeps getting smaller as members move away.

That’s just a little slice of my life.

Share Your World 2015 Week 46