How to say "June" in Spanish

English: June
Spanish: Junio

 

The Monument

A ghost ship floats through the calm and endangered waters.
Two Marines conduct a special operation.
The feeling of unity somehow strengthens Army platoon number 8.
A lonely Navy sailor is seen standing in front of the lone sailor statue.
The National Guard gets called in to protect civilians in search of shelter.
Broadcasting on every news channel, the Coast Guard has just busted up the biggest drug smuggling ring in history.
The Air Force is flying above.
The mind of the average soldier craves the thought of being home.
Music entices memories of old friends.
Maybe high school sweethearts will reunite once the time is up.
No reality can estimate the price of one's own life.
Those who participate can feel the lasting effects.
Mass memories and sore images.
A picture of home fuels the rage to stay alive.
Smoldering heat slowly eating away at the stamina of a sleepless night.
Insomnia setting in as one cannot wait to see the norms of real life.
What does being human feel like while he or she waits for that one letter in the mail?
The constant recirculation of enlisted men and women called on to carry out missions.
Enemies packaged in little bodies yet you're told when and when not to shoot.
On a calm day, love would be the only solution to forget the battlefield.
Constant images of news flashes as time eats away the feeling of paranoid behavior.
A sixth sense emerges to be able to sense when danger is evident.
Words written in blood to protect the superior forms of life coddling the weak and the strong.
Questions emerge of lonely vets wondering if it's a rich man's game.
A document of historical value sits in a glass sealed stage.
Blending into formation, seeing forbidden territories off limits to foreigners.
Peace is the only talk that can calm the nerves of a soldier who has not been shown what mercy is.
No religion, no money, and no king can explain the cries of distant behavior.
As millions of spectators and loved ones wait at the docks, some are still left alone.
Fragile beings are not welcomed in the danger zone.
One smile entices the veins of a beloved soldier to feel alive again.
Drill instructors must keep training to pass the rules of engagement on to the next unit in line.
Rules written in blood will enhance your awareness to follow them.
A folded decoration of red, white and blue, seals the vision of sea-to-shining-sea.
The question of remembrance eats away at those who dishonor or despise the explanation of freedom.
In the distance a young man centers his life around his own goals as he witnesses what his mother and father have done on the battlefield.
A sense of optimism flows until the sounds of a trumpet blows.
The children sit calmly on the docks as no one makes a move until the observance of colors is over.
All it takes is one volunteer.
Once colors is over they carry-on and the memories of the past entice one brave comrade to come back and visit the Monument.
The Monument made by the artist's steady hands so that no one would forget the ultimate sacrifice.
The Monument made by the artist's steady hands so that all who volunteered would show others the sacrifices made to maintain a peaceful home.
If in time we become pessimistic, the Monument made by the artist's steady hands will remind us to not forget the promise land built by volunteers.
Carry-on.
I'm going to take a nap.

Remembering the Worker Bees

It's a hot day and the navy blues and golds are glistening off of the sun.
Three sailors just got off watch, as I notice a beehive circulating on the docks.
Working keeps a man's mind stable for some odd reason.
While I finished cleaning the weapons, I soon notice that I have just enough time left to polish the floors.
While working I start to whistle...a loud call for General Quarters echoes over the p.a. system.
I wonder what has happened now.
Manning my station, I get a call, it seems some men on an abandoned vessel are approaching the ship.
Approaching the dock they tap the beehive.
The bees attack the men, and they quickly abandon the floating vessel.
I guess even the worker bees have a purpose; I guess even they too have a home to protect.
They have no clue how much work they just saved us...

The difference between a "Clause" and a "Phrase"

The difference between a clause and a phrase can simply be defined by identifying a subject and a verb; a phrase usually doesn't have a subject-verb component.
Here is an example of a clause and a phrase:
(Independent Clause) I love her.
(Phrase) With the right money.
Straus, Jane., Kaufman, Lester and Stern, Tom. The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation. 11th ed. San Francisco, Jossey-Bass, 2014.

What year was the typewriter invented?

The typewriter was invented in 1868 but the concept was thought of in 1714.
References:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Typewriter
http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/tw-history.html

What are "Baffles" used for in the field of Audio?

Whenever sound waves are trapped in a confined space with sound absorbent material or panels, the panels used are called, "baffles." Most studios or serious musicians use baffles to trap the sound; therefore, creating much better sound quality.

How to say "Memory" in French

English: Memory
French: Mémoire

Remember the Slackers

It was the end of a holiday and everyone had just got done eating, then, BOOM! A bomb went off. Deondre jumped up and ran outside, after sleeping and slacking-off he realized that someone had taken all of their possessions and blew up their shed.
"What happened out here?" His mother asked.
"I don't know, while we were sleeping someone took everything we worked for," Deondre explained.
Momma Diana rubbed her hand on the ground. Being an old veteran of Pearl Harbor reminded her of how they got caught slacking off and then her flashbacks set in. She took her belt and beat the hell out of everything moving in the house.
"This is the last day we sit around! There will be no more holidays, no more church, and no more B. S. Do I make myself clear?" She shouted as everyone tried to make excuses. The devil himself had jump into this small woman. It was unbelievable.
"Every time we even think about slacking-off something crazy happens. Someone 'done came and snatched all my goods." She said with rage in the tone of her voice.
Once everyone got the message they all started cleaning and washing dishes. The house was spotless. Every time Deondre and his family thought about sleeping or doing something worthless or unproductive they thought about the day they slacked-off. The belt and the look on Momma Diana's face was enough to give them some motivation. Deondre built a golden tower after the ordeal and got straight A's all the way through college. His sister Teresa rebuilt the Pyramids and created a new Egypt.

The Forgotten Church

Smoke is in the air. The one hope has been forgotten. The truth has fallen into the wrong hands and left us wandering like ants. We are prisoners of war, trying to find any simple thing to keep us alive. At this moment, now that everything is gone, we are the new nation. I think we're the only ones left. The building is filled with people whose minds have been destroyed by the outside world. Everything that was once pure is now left to rot. I don't know what happened. The last thing I saw on the news exploded into what's left. We have not showered in days. There's no way to contact anyone. All of us ended up seeking refugee in this building that's filled with old pictures of missionaries, some of us are black and some of us are white. We have no nation or identity, all we have been taught is that we're servants of the Lord's army. Our mind only knows what these scriptures that we've been reading to pass the time have taught us. I guess we're not of this world but just passing through. There are poor people all around us and children are dying by the minute. So many people have left and wandered off into the warzone with no protection. It doesn't seem like they're coming back. We cannot find them. There's nothing left to blow-up, destroy or kill, but us. Little specs of time seep through our minds as we envision what once was. Each circumstance has lead us to this moment as we join hands. The women who have been raped sit screaming and crying at the alter and the innocent men who have been victims of the law are here to find answers. So many people outside these walls are fighting for power that they have left the widow for dead. The children with no parents roam the streets with incorrect ideologies of the world. They have role models who they cannot get to. There is an old collection plate on the floor in the corner and the dirt that we once walked on is now on our faces. A dark cloud sits over us as we hold hands and pray. A mirror falls from the ceiling and shatters on the ground as a small earthquake brings us back to reality. All that was once alive and moving is now gone forever. We are now a third world, desolate place, with only old knowledge and what is left of the scriptures. When the noise from the war has died down, we open the doors and see a field of bones and people trying to get in. What has man done? All that was once glory is now destroyed, all that was built by sweating hands is now washed away in blood. We sought refuge in this lost old building. If I remember it well, it was once called a church. Where do we go from here, and who do we worship now? The prophecy has been fulfilled and the only thing we have to look forward to is heaven.

Mrs. Cruz and the Empty Table

Mrs. Cruz, was a proud soloist. Although most of her music had been stolen, Mrs. Cruz kept-on singing. Even though she had traveled to many places, she loved to perform at the Docks Lounge by the bay. Performance after performance and night after night she gave her all on stage, then the day she dreaded the most had arrived. It was that day, Memorial Day, this was the day her husband had passed away and somehow someway she ended up booked in the very place where they met. Sitting in front of her dressing room mirror, she took his picture and placed it in her bra. She had spent years singing in the choir for that man and he chose to be a soldier rather than stay home with her, causing her to take another career path. James Cruz was his name and he and Mrs. Cruz lived the married life for eleven years when he volunteered for the war of all wars and lost his life. It was something about this night that made her feel like everyone had knew her name compared to other nights. The crowd was silent and for that one moment every soul in the building put away their bad habits just to hear her voice. Mrs. Cruz sang with so much emotion. Revving up to hit one of the highest notes of her career she noticed an empty table across the room. Tears fell from her eyes as she could see her late husband sitting at that table. This was the moment of her life. All she needed was one sign from the Lord. Seeing him in the crowd at the empty table proved that for all these years of being alone that her husband had still been with her. After Mrs. Cruz had spent her whole career as a soloist this was her assurance. The table helped her remember the very first day she ever started doing what she loved the most. The table was a sign that her husband was still by her side. She got a standing ovation.

The Loser's Bracket

Craig had spent his entire life losing. He lost so much that he had no clue what it felt like to win. Losing became his hobby. After a lifetime of being spit-on, kicked and punched for not winning, he decided to grab some friends who could help him keep his losing streak alive.
"Listen, we go out and we get kicked around. Losing is much easier than winning. As long as we keep losing, no one will give a damn about us. We won't have a worry in the world." Craig explained to his buddies: Jerry, Ben, and the others.
Once Craig realized that his team only got called when other teams needed a win, it made him feel better about his life. He had no choice but to accept the fact that he was a loser. One day Craig and his buddies got a call from the government. It seemed that they needed his crew to do a special operation that required losing. To sum it up, it was a suicide mission. Once Craig and his team got the offer, they couldn't wait to jump on it. With his black flag flying in the sky, he lowered it and tucked it safely in his bag as him and his buddies put on their black uniforms and went to work. Stepping on the battlefield and enlisting in the military must have been their calling, because they fit right in. After going on a bare fist mission and noticing that the mission to win was impossible, Craig decided that this time he had no choice but to lose his life. They were sent on the battlefield with no guns. Their number one mission was to die. Noticing that his crew was in danger, he jumped on a bomb and blew himself up. Once his crew saw that Craig had saved them, they felt a force to win. Craig was their friend.
"He killed himself to save us. Why would he do that? We are the scum of the earth," Jerry said as he met with the rest of the losers after they had just been punished by the opposing force.
Ben looked at him with pride in his eyes, "Don't you see this is our purpose in life. If Craig died for us then we have nothing to lose; we must die for our country."
The losers then got up and did everything they could do to lose the battle. Realizing that if they allowed the opposing force to infiltrate the border, the whole country would be in danger. Jerry, Ben, and the rest of the crew blew themselves up to save the rest of the country. Their division was called "the Loser's Bracket" and they lost the little that they had so that others could have more. Their little town called, "Loser Valley" heard about the story and felt like winners.
The End.

Some Motivation for Writers

A script or manuscript collecting dust in a drawer is worthless; before you die, put some people to work.

One habit every writer should practice

Every writer should always keep a notepad on them to write down thoughts that he or she may forget.

How to say "prisoner of war" in Spanish

English: prisoner of war
Spanish:prisionero de guerra

One important theatre tip

It is always wise to carry insurance when hoping to have a big theatre production. Most facilities will not allow the show to go on without specified insurance.

Serenity

In deep sorrow, I lay on the couch with idle thoughts.
The wind is blowing and I can hear the branches from the trees scratching up against the house.
No one wants to talk to me and I don't know why.
I roll over as reality sets in.
I want to hide what I'm feeling but I guess it's human nature to feel this way.
There are people standing outside.
They want to come in.
I have nothing left to offer.
I'm useless.
Laying on the couch, ignoring the doorbell, I don't know how I became this way.
I just need time to think or to talk to someone who really cares.
I hear glass shattering as a rock comes flying through the window.
I'm so numb from being alone that the sound seems very stimulating.
I guess this is what it feels like to be human.
Being cheated;
Not being good enough;
Feeling left out;
Never happy or content;
I guess the people outside of my house have me all figured out.
Maybe the world does revolve around me.
If it's my way, maybe that is the right way.
I guess I really did do this to myself.
As I slowly get up off of the couch, I hear the phone ring.
I pick it up and it's my best friend; it's my mother.
After I'm done talking to her, I open up the door, and clean up the broken pieces of glass.
Serenity sets in.

What is Cinco de Mayo?

Cinco de Mayo, is a Spanish holiday that recognizes the Mexican Army's victory over the French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862.

Time

The negative words eat at the tiny fragments of individuals trying to think and be positive. Mom slowly creeps in my mind, "If you don't have anything nice to say, then keep your mouth shut!" I take a step back and see all of my family and friends. It seems like every moment will last forever. I slowly sit back in my chair and time keeps ticking. I reach back to grab the camera and then I pause for a second, "Mom, I'm thankful for the time we have together and I will not be ungrateful once your time here with me is up. I wish I could break the curse of death, but I'm sure even darkness has its purpose. As time goes on and my day comes, you'll be the reason why I step into the light."

Memory

When something is considered wrong or evil, it usually stands out the most. If you need a comforter, mom is usually there; even if she's gone, all you have to do is use your memory.

Discovery

Look close enough at the TV and you'll see a dot, look close enough at your mother and you'll be told to pull your pants up.