The life and times of an uncertain blogger

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a loyal and avid  fan of Stephen King.  I’ve got an entire large bookcase and part of another filled with hard copies of every book he’s ever released. 

When I was getting my Master’s degree in English, many of my peers looked down their noses at me for loving his writing so much.  After all, it was (raise snub nose here) “popular” tripe and mostly horror, certainly not “real” literature. I would venture to guess that most of these people had never read a word of King’s writing, otherwise I have no doubt that their opinions would have changed — at least in secret.

These same people had no idea that he was the author of the novella, The Shawshank Redemption, and the novels The Green Mile and Delores Claiborne, all three made into highly lauded and well respected films.

Interestingly enough, many of those people changed their minds around 2003 when King was given the Lifetime Achievement Award by the National Book Foundation, an honor he shares with the likes of Arthur Miller, Eudora Welty and John Updike. Add to that the O Henry Award, the National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters and the World Fantasy Award — to name only a few — and anyone would agree that Stephen King has become a well respected author among authors.

I’m proud to say I was ahead of the cusp on this one. I’ve been a fan since I first picked up Carrie in 1975, and I’ve never looked back. Each book has been better than the last, and I’ve read each voraciously, sometimes never stopping until my eyes closed on their own from exhaustion.  One of the first thrills for me, as a Stephen King fan, was realizing that he enjoyed mentioning something from one of his other books in each new book.  I lived to find that snippet, because only a true fan would know it when he or she saw it, and it as like a secret I shared with King himself.

This culminated in King’s epic opus: The Dark Tower, a seven book series that is, without a doubt, the best story I’ve ever read.  Reading it was joyful and painful, because I knew that, once I’d finished the 1000 to 3000 pages in one of the books, it meant I’d have to wait years before I’d get to start the next one.  Still, each time a new book in the series would come out, I’d start again from the beginning and read them all in order, relishing each moment I got to spend with Roland, Eddie, Suzanna, Jake and Oy. With every reading I laughed, I cried, I got angry and sad and happy. In those books, I not only entered worlds where I was completely enthralled, I learned to strive for only the best from myself, because she who does not expect the best from herself has forgotten the face of her father. 

(There is so much more I’d like to say, but I wouldn’t do anything to spoil the story for you. Just trust me when I say that, while you can read just that series and enjoy it completely, the real joy in reading it comes from reading all of King’s books and stories that came before.  Only then can you get the full impact of the tale. And then follow up and read all the books that have come after, and you’ll get a richer enjoyment from them as well.)

I’m currently reading his latest release, Duma Key, which I believe is one of his best books to date. I’m trying so hard to make it last, but as I round the corner to the last 90 pages, it’s so hard to make myself put it down. I love that I see so much of King himself in the protagonist, I love that I know that he’s going to wrench me out of my comfort zone in the end, and I love the story…such a great story.

King once said in one of his forwards or afterwards (I can’t remember which, but he writes them for his “constant readers,” and I am one of them.) that he enjoys taking his readers by the hand and walking with them around dark corners. (I’m paraphrasing, of couse.) It’s that feeling of being taken by the hand as I enter a foreign, dark and scary place that I love the most about Stephen King. He’s so much more than a horror novelist, so much more than a “popular” writer.

If you are one of the sad few who have never read his books and stories, I suggest a few of my favorites: The Stand (This is my favorite of his novels — I prefer the original version.), The Shining, Hearts of Atlantis, Lisey’s Story (Oh, my GOSH, what a beautiful story Lisey’s Story is!), Duma Key and, of course, The Dark Tower. (And if you read The Dark Tower, don’t forget to pick up his anthology, Everything’s Eventual, when you are finished with the series, so you can read the short story, The Little Sisters of Eluria and be happily surprised.)

And remember, he doesn’t just write horror. The Dark Tower isn’t horror, The Talisman isn’t horror, Lisey’s Story, isn’t horror, The Shawshank Redemption isn’t horror.

Have I convinced you yet? If not, let me take you by the hand as we walk around this dark corner. Don’t worry; I’ll protect you, and if I kiss you in the dark, please don’t be afraid. It’s only a kiss between friends.

Stumble It!

Okay, I’m going to come right out and admit something to you.

I *hate* Daylight Savings Time. 

I don’t mean I dislike it. I mean I loathe and despise it. Daylight Savings Time is the DEVIL!

I know at one time it served a purpose.  Back in World War I, it was enacted to give people more daylight and save on fuel consumption for artificial lighting. But WWI was over a long time ago, and we still suffer through it. Last year, they even extended it by a month!  Why?  Still, all in the name of energy savings.

What about my energy?

The Monday after Daylight Savings Time begins is hard, but for some reason, Tuesday is worse.  I look around me today, and everyone is dragging ass.  We’ve all got headaches, we look like death warmed over, and no one is in a good mood.  Is it really worth all this exhaustion to save fossil fuels when there are obviously better ways?

In addition to the already mentioned negatives, consider that traffic accidents increase just after Dayliight Savings Time begins. So do violent crimes, according to some studies. Farmers, whose days begin very early, generally hate it, because they have to begin their work days in the dark.  So what’s it really good for other than making us all feel like crawling back into bed for a week or so?  Not much in my estimation.

I’ve got a much better idea, and over 1,000 US cities have already begun doing it. Forget Daylight Savings Time. Let it get dark. And instead of turning all the lights on in the city, TURN THEM OFF!  People sleep better!  Energy is saved at a rate much faster than DST saves it. 

Just look at this map of the U.S. at night. There are whole swaths of country that are dark.  What’s so wrong with that?  The answer is nothing. I say we go back to standard time and let nature take its course. I’m sure we’d all be much happier people!

Okay, I’m stepping off my soap box. I apologize for my crankiness, but at least I have an excuse! 

Daylight Savings Time — it’s the devil!

Stumble It!

It’s almost Valentine’s Day again — that wonderful, rosy hearted, chocolate filled commercial holiday that puts love out there for all to see.

Once again this year, I’m sans partner but not completely loveless. Let’s just say I’ve got my irons in the fire; I’m just not sure the bull is ready for branding.

It’s at times like these that I’m glad to be a woman.  Women are led by their emotions, and most women have no problem expressing them. Nothing makes men more skiddish, though, than having to acknowledge their feelings, particularly when those feelings relate to caring for a person of the opposite sex. 

It also seems like men are less likely than women to put themselves back out there once they’ve been hurt.  I know so many men who say they haven’t given up on love, but that they’re so tired of game playing and deceit that they just aren’t going to go out and look for it anymore. 

As someone who’s been hurt and lied to by someone I loved (What woman hasn’t?), I completely understand where they’re coming from, but I feel that there’s always room for another go at it if the right guy comes along.  Sure; it’s a risk — by making myself vulnerable, I could get burned again – but a very wise man once pointed out to me that if I never try again, I’m sure to die alone, while if I open myself up to love, at least I have a chance at happiness. 

(Granted, this man was trying to get in my pants at the time, but it was good advice never-the-less.)

I dated that guy for seven years, and in the end, I did get lied to and hurt, but those seven years were fun, and I think I’d be a lesser person if I’d never had them. But did it jade me to all relationships?  Maybe for a little while, but not permanently.  I think the only semi-permanent result of the experience has been that I tend to take relationships less seriously now. I don’t fall in love at the drop of a hat nor do I trust as easily.

In short, I’ve become more of a wait-and-see kind of gal, and because of that, I’ve met and become friends with some amazing, special men who I might not have paid attention to before.  These relationships are not about sex, but about friendship and commaradarie. They’re about fun, laughter and deep meaningful conversations.

I’ve learned through these experiences that I love men. 

That may sound strange coming from a warm blooded heterosexual woman, but there’s a difference between being in love with a man and loving men.  (For example, I’ve been in love with a man during a time when I didn’t especially like men in general, much less love them.)  Now, I’ve come to appreciate men for their directness, their humor, their sensitivity (yes, really) and their tendency toward what-you-see-is-what-you-get.  I like that most men don’t play emotional games, that they’re fair in the workplace and can appreciate the value of a smart woman.

I just wish there weren’t so many of them who have closed up their emotions rather than risk getting hurt again. They miss out on so much, and consequently, so do the prospective women in their lives.  With so much padlocked baggage being carried around, it’s no wonder that women find it hard to find a good man once they’ve reached 35.

As a consequence of this, many women have learned to become the aggressor when it comes to the pursuit of relationships.  That’s way outside my own comfort zone, though. I grew up in an era where men did the calling, the asking out and made the first move toward first base. So, it’s clear to me that I’m going to have to learn to take the bull by the horns if I’m ever going to find the right guy for me.

I know he’s out there somewhere, being bullish. I just need to learn to rope well enough to knock him off balance so he can see that I’m the gal for him!

Stumble It!

The holiday season is upon is. Well, it’s more than upon us; we’re entrenched in it and have been, really, since before Thanksgiving, thanks to retail marketing.

During this time of year, I avoid shopping like the plague. The throngs of people on the roads and in the stores make me so anxious that I’ll do almost anything not to be around them. I’ve never understood those people who get up at 3am to be the first in line for Black Friday. To me, that’s like getting up early to be the first in line for the torture chamber.

Nuh uh. Not me.

When I think of all the pushing and fighting and waiting in endless lines, it does nothing but stress me out. Case in point, last night I had to go to GameStop and PetSmart for a quick game purchase and some pet food. Both places are in the same shopping center, which is about five minutes from my house, and I was literally in GameStop for less than two minutes — PetSmart for about five — but because of the ridiculous holiday traffic, it took me an hour and a half to get home. (I sat through 11 red lights at one intersection!)

The blatant commercialization surrounding this holy holiday has become worse and worse each year, until now, some Christmas advertisements begin gracing our TV sets and radios in early September. For many, Christmas has stopped being a celebration of the birth of Christ but an excuse to give and get presents. The sad thing is that, in our disposable, immediate gratification, get-what-you-want-and-get-it-right-now society, gift giving has become so difficult that there’s no joy in it anymore. It’s not like the old days when we lived more frugally and rarely got extras for ourselves; these days “I get what I want” is a way of life, leaving gift buyers scratching their heads trying to come up with just the right gift. Then, on Christmas day, as they hope against hope that the gift recipient will love what he or she got, they’re often disappointed by the lackluster response.

Because of all this, about five years ago, our family decided to stop giving gifts to one another for Christmas. I have to admit that the first year was strange, but as the years have progressed, we’ve all noticed something universal for each of us.

The meaning of Christmas has returned for us.

The focus is back on love and the joy of just being together. We have a wonderful meal. We talk. We laugh. We hug. We tell stories about old times and about family members and friends who are no longer with us. We play dominoes and/or cards. We watch a football game. We enjoy just being together for one of the few days a year when we are able to do that.

Any gift giving we do are for those less fortunate than ourselves; people who have needs that are unmet, people who are alone and/or infirm. People who can’t pay their electric bill, kids who have no shoes, families who have no food for a nice meal. Those are the gifts that truly count. Those are the gifts that mean something.

As the retail world continues to push you into giving them a bigger piece of your hard earned money, consider taking this route. The economy will survive, and you and your loved ones will benefit in ways you never expected.

Try it, and have the merriest of Christmases — from me to you!

______________________________________________________

And now, an admission, which may seem — on the surface — antethetical to everything I just said…

In spite of my panning the commercialization of Christmas, I have an admission to make. My favorite Christmas song, next to John Denver’s Aspenglow and The Carpenter’s Merry Christmas Darling, is a commercial jingle that’s familiar to almost every Oklahoman.

My love for the jingle began when I was just a tot growing up in Elk City, OK. We didn’t get many TV channels back then — especially living in a little prairie town in far western Oklahoma — but one of the channels we got if we moved our antenna to just the right spot was an Oklahoma City channel. Each year, starting the day after Thanksgiving, this jingle began playing on that channel, and since it coincided with the Christmas spirit rampup, I associated it with Christmas.

When I was six, we moved to Lawton, OK, a town that didn’t get Oklahoma City channels. For years, as Christmas approached, I always felt like something was missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then, when I was about 12, we finally moved from the dark ages and got cable. The day after Thanksgiving that year, I was in my room watching TV when the B.C. Clark’s Anniversary Sale commercial came on. I immediately stopped what I was doing and just stood there, transfixed, as waves of emotion came over me — nastagia and joy filled my heart with each note.

I have learned since then that that little jingle means the same thing to many, many Oklahomans. Megan Mullally, a native of Oklahoma City who became a household name when she starred on Will and Grace for many years, sang the jingle on The Tonight Show. It has been sent to service men and women overseas, sung on airplanes full of homesick Oklahomans, performed at school pageants and even in church services. It’s just not Christmas around here without it.

So for those of you who live near and far, here is the B.C. Clark’s Anniversary Sale jingle, so you, too, can share in a little Oklahoma Christmas tradition!

Stumble It!

So, I’ve left a few dangling threads out there.

Sue me.

It’s been a little bit busy around here, what with work and play taking up every waking moment. (Awwww…poor me!)

Let me tie up a few of those loose ends.

1. The winter storm. Zero damage! (YAY!) What’s more, there is so much tree damage in town that the city is carting off tree limbs free of charge, so that pile I’ve had in the back yard for months will be gone this week, and it won’t cost me a cent. 

I think my desert willow survived, too, which is the best news of all. I’d have cried big girlie tears if I’d lost it. The only real pain in the you-know-what thing I have to do is cut back the pampas grass. It was beautiful before the ice, but now the huge fronds are all broken and bent. This year, I’ll be sure to get out the gloves before I start sticking my hands in that thing. (Have you ever had a hundred grass cuts from really big grass? Not fun!)

2. The guild meeting was a success, though I would have preferred more non-officer participation. Still, it looks like we are going to work on getting our member participation up in our raids, and if that doesn’t happen, we’ll move on to more serious measures. All in all, though, I think whatever steps we take will be for the better, and hopefully we can all stay together.  There’s a good chance of that anyway.

3. Though I haven’t mentioned this before, I’ve lost 16 pounds in the last month an a half. I guess that’s what a veggie addiction and a busy schedule will do for you. I feel better than I’ve felt in I don’t know when.  On top of it all, I’m more than content — I’m actually happy.

It’s been awhile, and I like it!

Stumble It!

I‘m not really sure what to title this blog entry. In fact, it’s a little hard to write it; not because I don’t know what I want to say, but because I’m not sure how to say it.

A couple of months ago, I posted about leaving my old job and how hard it was to leave my friends there. A few weeks ago, I posted about how I’m not a very social person, and because of that, my friendships at work are very important to me. I also posted about my World of Warcraft addiction and how much fun it is to be a virtual bad-ass.

What I didn’t post was how important my gaming friends have become to me.  That may sound weird to anyone who doesn’t participate in a close-knit online community, but that little group of people are like family to me. I care about what happens to them, I look forward to being with them, they bouy me when I’m down and fight along side me, laugh with me, cry with me, celebrate hard won goals with me.

Through that game, I’ve met some very special people who have taught me a great deal about commitment, drive and determination. Sounds strange when you consider I’m talking about a game; doesn’t it? But it’s true. When a group of people work together for weeks and even months on end to achieve a difficult goal that requires consentration and teamwork, it takes those qualities to succeed. Our leader and some of the other officers in our guild who have served in the armed forces and have been to war liken the teamwork and effort it takes to succeed in game to that on the battlefield. Of course the dangers aren’t real, and the lives at stake are only virtual, but the teamwork, method and consentration required are the same.

It’s no wonder that the camaraderie is so strong. To listen to it as an outsider, you might agree that when we are “in battle,” the chatter sounds much like it might sound on a real battlefield, as officers are sending directions and warnings to the troups. It’s intense! It’s stressful! It’s hard work! The respect I hold for our leaders is as strong or stronger than the respect I feel for just about anyone else in my life.

So when we’re not in the middle of that, the times we share together are filled with laughter and fun. We let go with each other in ways many of us never do in our real lives. We share personal information we hold inside otherwise. We call each other and have long conversations about our lives, our ambitions and what really matters.

With all that in mind, it’s no wonder that any threat to our little family causes more than a little anxiety.  I’ve never been one to handle disequalibrium very well — I’m a both feet on the ground kind of gal — so I hate waiting and wondering for any shoe to drop, particularly when we’re talking about my favorite pair.

Today, I’m holding my breath, because something big is up. 

Our core group is strong, but the less committed people have caused us to falter at our goals, and it’s frustrating, particularly to our members who are all about progression. The holiday season has made the situation even worse, so things are quickly coming to a head. Decisions that affect us all are being made, and not everyone is going to be happy with the results. Some may leave us and move on to other groups. Some may not be able to make the changes required.

It makes me sad and worried, and I’m supposed to wait until 9pm tomorrow night to find out what’s going to happen.  I may go nuts before then, or at the very least, drive those around me nuts.  I really hate it.

I want things to stay the same, but nothing ever does; does it? (That’s a rhetorical quesiton; I know the answer.)

I just hope that whatever happens, the people I really care about stick it out with us.  I want to progress, too, but for me it’s the family that’s important. It’s the people. It’s people I couldn’t begin to name, lest this become pages long.  People with real names and real lives that I care about.

Below is a little video of what it’s like in our “battles.”  This isn’t our group, but it’s the same no matter what group is doing it.  I’m not sure you can get the real jist of it from watching this, but maybe you can get an idea.

Stumble It!