Oh, man.
I thought I knew stress. I've been a cop, a firefighter-paramedic, a pilot, a manager in a besieged federal safety-related agency, a truck driver, and an all-night radio announcer. Heck, I even survived an almost-foodless, sleep-deprived Hell Week.
But no. Not until now have I experienced real, life energy-sapping stress.
I don't want to be here. I want to be home with a dog.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Sunday, April 17, 2016
All Things King
I spend a lot of time reading while on my extended breaks from driving, such as I am now. Many drivers watch TV, but not me; I read and listen to music. I am currently rereading a masterpiece, Stephen King's, The Shining, that I first read long ago, before the movie came out - I have never seen the movie, nor will I.
Knowing the effect his words have on me and what they do to my reading - speeds it WAY up - I have changed the way I read his work. Instead of getting engrossed in the Torrance's world at the Overlook Hotel for hours on end, as I used to, I have begun to meter how much I read. I might read one chapter or only part of one chapter. And I force myself to read much slower, an unnatural but necessary change when entering his twisted world. I can spend 15-30 minutes reading then put the book down while the words settle into my mind. This way, I also hope to get a sense of how a terrific writer puts his thoughts together so well.
I also have to admit to a secondary reason for rereading The Shining: I want to read Doctor Sleep next. It's his 500-page thriller that answers the question that King asked himself one day that got him to writing it:
What has happened to Danny Torrance in the 25-plus years since his family wintered over at The Overlook Hotel that tragic year?
To understand it fully, I have to know the whole story. And I will.
Knowing the effect his words have on me and what they do to my reading - speeds it WAY up - I have changed the way I read his work. Instead of getting engrossed in the Torrance's world at the Overlook Hotel for hours on end, as I used to, I have begun to meter how much I read. I might read one chapter or only part of one chapter. And I force myself to read much slower, an unnatural but necessary change when entering his twisted world. I can spend 15-30 minutes reading then put the book down while the words settle into my mind. This way, I also hope to get a sense of how a terrific writer puts his thoughts together so well.
I also have to admit to a secondary reason for rereading The Shining: I want to read Doctor Sleep next. It's his 500-page thriller that answers the question that King asked himself one day that got him to writing it:
What has happened to Danny Torrance in the 25-plus years since his family wintered over at The Overlook Hotel that tragic year?
To understand it fully, I have to know the whole story. And I will.
Friday, April 8, 2016
A Place for Thoughts and Phrases
It wasn't supposed to end this way.
He sat on the couch, staring blankly out the window onto the cold, wet morning. Life is supposed to be, well, not easy, sure, but easier. Fun.
Not this.
The beginning was so hopeful. It was fun. But that seemed so long ago, so far in the past as to make him wonder if it was ever real or if it was just wishful thinking. The weeks since were a muddled mess of chaotic memories, mind's-eye flashes, and glumly sitting on the couch, just like now.
It was pretty clear. He overstayed his welcome. There was no pleasure in the thought; just reality. It felt like a divorce, but one cannot be divorced from your children. Of course children grow up and older. They have children of their own. The rules change. Their rules, not your rules anymore.
Deal with it, he thought. Yeah, that's easy, isn't it? Just deal with it. Like saying no to drugs. Or putting your seatbelt on every time. Or waiting for the Walk signal at the corner. Easy, right? No.
******************
My place is just a place. It is not warm, though it is heated. It is just a place. I could leave here tomorrow and it would only have been a place I lived for a very long time. A little history, fewer memories. No anchor.
******************
How does one detach from the negatives in this life? Lord knows we are tested and given many opportunities, but what about the next step? What does success look like? I do not know.
******************
He sat on the couch, staring blankly out the window onto the cold, wet morning. Life is supposed to be, well, not easy, sure, but easier. Fun.
Not this.
The beginning was so hopeful. It was fun. But that seemed so long ago, so far in the past as to make him wonder if it was ever real or if it was just wishful thinking. The weeks since were a muddled mess of chaotic memories, mind's-eye flashes, and glumly sitting on the couch, just like now.
It was pretty clear. He overstayed his welcome. There was no pleasure in the thought; just reality. It felt like a divorce, but one cannot be divorced from your children. Of course children grow up and older. They have children of their own. The rules change. Their rules, not your rules anymore.
Deal with it, he thought. Yeah, that's easy, isn't it? Just deal with it. Like saying no to drugs. Or putting your seatbelt on every time. Or waiting for the Walk signal at the corner. Easy, right? No.
******************
My place is just a place. It is not warm, though it is heated. It is just a place. I could leave here tomorrow and it would only have been a place I lived for a very long time. A little history, fewer memories. No anchor.
******************
How does one detach from the negatives in this life? Lord knows we are tested and given many opportunities, but what about the next step? What does success look like? I do not know.
******************
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)