Posts Tagged ‘children’

“Hello?” That lone words echoes throughout this empty chamber. “Anyone here?”

"Life is No Fairytale", "Agape", "The BoogeyMann": these titles can be found at Amazon.com

“Life is No Fairytale”, “Agape”, “The BoogeyMann”: these titles can be found at Amazon.com

Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here raving about whatever random thought that happened to cross my mind (clears dust from the furniture as I move about the place nostalgically). The Ravings of a Madman. That’s what this blog was all about. There was no advice given. No interviews posted. Nothing to really help anyone who stumbled along my blog. Just me raving, like some senile old man you might come across in your daily travels. (Clicks the light switch into the on position, illuminating the space). I actually missed this place. You see, I’m a writer. I was a full-time writer, dedicating at least eight hours a day to my craft. Not everything I wrote was good. Some of my stuff is genius. My young adult, horror novel, “The BoogeyMann” is pretty sweet. It has a four and a half star rating on Amazon, eight reviews. There’s my young adult, romance, “Life is no Fairytale.” In my opinion, it’s better than my debut novel. My latest release is “Agape”, a Christian, fantasy novel — my greatest body of work so far. Yep. I was a full-time writer, then my son Benjamin came along last year. With his arrival, I was instantly promoted to a stay-at-home dad like that guy on “Doc McStuffin” — you can’t see it, but I’m shrugging nonchalantly. Anyway, Benjamin demands a lot of my attention, resulting in me not being able to work like I use to. I thought I would have more time to work the older he got, but that turned out to be untrue. The more he grows the more mobile he becomes, and the more he moves about the more attention he warrants. I wouldn’t trade my son for anything in the world though, and thankfully I’ve been able to coast on my previous year of nonstop work.

My pride and joy, Benjamin.

My pride and joy, Benjamin.

That’s enough about me. I didn’t come here to give you a history lesson, but I thought it important to reintroduce myself. The reason I am here is to rave. What’s on the Madman’s mind today? Shameless advertising to children. There’s a previous blog of mine where I rave about advertisements. I hate advertisements. I think they should be only ten seconds, or less. They should have a lone person in front of a camera while holding the product they want to sell, and a plain background would suffice. Tell me what it is, what it does, then say goodbye — like a James Patterson book commercial. So you see my dislike for commercials, but there is something I hate more than aggravating advertisements. I hate commercials for kids.

 

 

 

This image from "Poltergeist" best illustrates advertisement effects on children.

This image from “Poltergeist” best illustrates advertisement effects on children.

Kids are gullible by nature and they want everything you put before them. My son Benjamin is not of the age where he  repeats, “I want that!” all day long, but the time will come and I don’t appreciate commercials that tell kids what to do. “Go ask your parents to take you to our website.” “Tell your parents to buy you this now.” “Drink water instead of soda.” “Go outside and play.” First of all, I know how to raise my child. Don’t come into my house and tell him to go outside and play. You don’t know where I live and if it’s a safe environment. I know how to distribute water and soda. Maybe I don’t want my child on my computer, and don’t have my kid asking for something you (advertisers) and I both know he doesn’t need. What makes me so angry about advertisements tailored for kids is the fact that they know parents are not so easily persuaded so they brainwash the children. Then these mindless zombies come to the adults begging for this and demanding that. Children are not smart enough to read the small print on these commercials. The small print that says, “We’re not responsible for any whippings you might incur.” And a spanking is what my child will get if he becomes a middleman for the money grubbing ad firms.

Sure, there are ways to limit a child’s exposure to stranger danger: lessen a child’s TV time, streaming from programs like Netflix, buying relatively commercial free DVD’s, or monitoring what they watch. Any of these methods could work, but it still burns me up to know that those no good scoundrels are still out there.

http://www.bnewsome.yolasite.com

www.nubieninks.yolasite.com

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(Post transferred from my website: www.bnewsome.yolasite.com. Clearing up space for another post. :-))

Every writer has two reasons for why they write. The first is for fame and success. Many will tell you that they don’t write for the first reason that I mentioned, but I assure you, no one dives into a profession with intentions of being mediocre and overlooked. The second reason a writer writes happens to be the force that drives them when fame and success appears to be out of reach. The second reason is different for each person, but without that second reason, the first can not be obtained. If I only wrote for fame and success, I would have stopped being a writer two months after making the written word my profession. I have never been denied anything I sought to obtain, but I quickly realized that being a successful writer was not going to come easy. As a matter of fact, I have come to accept the fact that my first reason for writing may not happen at all. Nevertheless, I keep writing.

So, what is that second reason that drives me? The answer is simple. The answer is my child, and/or future children.

I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was ten-years-old. However, my plan was to pick a well paying profession, then start writing when I retired from the job market. I was very levelheaded for a child — more so than I am now, it seems. I eventually became an adult and it didn’t take me long to realize that the world did not orbit around my plans. Obstacle after obstacle was thrown my way. Disappointments came. One day I was a child with ignorant optimism, and the next thing I know, I’m in my twenties. I’m still optimistic about my future, but I now know that life is no fairytale.

(Desert Breeze Publishing brings you Life is no Fairytale by Bennie L. Newsome this September).

After coming to that realization, I began to wonder what else might not go as I planned. Who could say I would even live to see an old age and retire? That was something to think about. If that part of my plans was derailed (like everything else had been), then I would never get to live my dreams. I would never become a writer.

My mind began to travel along thoughts of an early demise. That thought branched off into the area of kids. What if I had kids and died prematurely? No one likes to think about death (no one with their sanity intact), but who can say when the skeleton cloaked in black will come for them. So I asked myself: If I had children, then died before I could teach them the things I had in mind, how would their life be affected?

Well, that did it. I decided not to wait for an old age that was not promised. I became a writer while I was still able. My chosen audience became young adults, middle grade, and children for one simple reason. If I was to have children and tragedy struck for one reason or another, I wanted to leave them something that could benefit them in my absence. They could learn from the tales I left behind.

I wrote my first young adult novel more than a year before my first born came into this world. The main character was named after him. Since then, I have written more young adult novels, middle grade novellas, and children stories. I would love to become a famous and successful writer, but the reason I must be published is for Benjamin and the little girls that I hope are to follow. My most important audience is my child(ren). If I was to die tomorrow, my five-month-old child would at least be left with the beginnings of his own library — a book collection that I wrote myself. Through my writings, Benjamin would be able to see that his father was funny, a bit insane, and that I loved him very much.

Then there is the possibility that I will live to see a ripe old age. If that happens, and I pray that it does, then I hope that my efforts would have blazed a path for my children to tread. By my example, my children will know that they don’t have to settle for the first menial job that comes their way. I want my children to do what they love. I want my children to follow their dreams. And in order for that to happen, I must first break the mold.

I started this by telling you the first reason I write. Now you know the second. Now you understand the force that drives me.

My latest blog can be found over at my website: www.bnewsome.yolasite.com. Stop on by. My website could really use the traffic.

Here’s a little something different to shake things up a bit.

A few months ago, my girlfriend and I picked up a bottle of Soft Scrub: Total All Purpose Cleaner: with Bleach. I first used the cleaner to clean the bathtub and I instantly fell in love with the product, because the dirt stains began to run before my very eyes–or it could have been the obnoxious bleach fumes making my eyes watery. Whatever the case may be, the cleaner worked and I was able to wipe away the dirt with very little *elbow grease.

Well today, Soft Scrub was put to the test again. My girlfriend’s family came over and they brought with them a rambunctioius two-year-old. Yeah, I can hear you moaning already. The child was a joy to have around at first, due to the fact that he was asleep, but when he awoke the boy went on a tear. In the midst of his ripping and running, the child managed to find a permanent marker and scrawl on one of the bedroom walls. My girlfriend was irate after discovering this, but not me. Nope. I had my secret weapon–Soft Scrub–under the bathroom sink. So when our company left, I went to get my Soft Scrub spray bottle, I grabbed a mop bucket, then I went to work on removing the scraggly marker lines. Just like the dirt ring in the bathtub, that permanent marker and the paint on the wall began to run before my very eyes. A large portion of the walls are now ruined.

Despite the fact that two walls now have to be repainted in our apartment, I still love my Soft Scrub. Next time, I’ll just do like I do the bathtub and use the cleaner before the stain gets too bad. Instead of waiting on the permanent marker to hit my wall, I’ll spray the two-year-old in his eyes.

*elbow grease: to use a lot of your own strength in the removing of a substance, especially a stain.