I began watching Gone Girl knowing that there was a twist, and truth be told, knowing what that twist was probably going to be. There had been enough media hum about the movie that some of it had seeped into my brain. Being a human in the year 2015 is kind of like that; there are things you just can’t avoid, no matter how little you care about them. Add that to the fact that I tend to watch movies well after everyone else in the world has had their turn with it, and well, you get where I’m going with this. There wasn’t going to be any twist in this movie that I found too shocking. Yet, I did find this movie to be shocking, and for all the wrong reasons, or, more poignantly, for one all-encompassing and mind-boggling reason. I felt like that woman in the GEICO commercial as she watched the older woman, posting physical pictures to the wall of her house. That’s not how this works; that’s not how any of this works. Almost every character in Gone Girl seemed to react to the events that were happening in such a strange way that I was left wondering why they weren’t all trying to un-friend each other. One character in particular puzzled me beyond belief. (This is where I’m going to write about stuff that happens in the movie, so, if you don’t want to read about stuff that happens in the movie, well, you know what to do). Nick Dunne, played by Ben Affleck, may be the strangest character I’ve ever watched in a movie. In fact, I’m willing to bet that he is a person that could not, in any capacity, actually exist. Let’s paint a quick picture of Nick Dunne’s situation: You are in the fifth year of a failed marriage. You are living a lie, cheating on your spouse, and waking each day telling yourself, today is the day I ask for a divorce. You are on your way home to tell your spouse it’s over, when something unexpected occurs. You arrive at your home, the door is open wide, it’s obvious there has been some sort of violent struggle in the house and your spouse is missing. They have possibly been murdered or abducted. You have no idea what has happened, and you are innocent of any wrongdoing. And…. Action. Regardless of how poorly your marriage was going with this person, would your reaction be to lie to everyone about the truth of your life and show literally no emotion toward the situation for the next week? Well that’s how Ben Affleck’s character decides to deal with the situation. He never sheds a single tear or even gets red in the eye at any point of the movie. In fact, the only motivation he seems to have is to hide any information that might make it look like he could have been the reason why his wife has disappeared. It’s kind of messed up, but I can plausibly see a world where this guy really doesn’t care that his wife is gone. He’s thinking, good riddance, and his only focus is to make sure he doesn’t get pegged for the crime, but this situation isn’t that simple. Firstly, he doesn’t know what actually happened. No matter how you might feel about the bad relationship you are in, an innocent person would never be so cavalier about an abduction and possible murder. Trust me, I’ve been in a depressing and loveless relationship before. One where your only good times are when you are away from that other person, and you dread having to come home every night. I can understand feeling a certain amount of happiness knowing that weight will no longer be hanging around your neck, but I would never have been okay with the thing that caused the separation being abduction or murder. That’s just, well… insane. Secondly, if you were innocent, wouldn’t you tell the truth? Not Nick Dunne. From the very beginning of the movie you are left wondering what he knows that he’s not telling us, because the way he acts just doesn’t add up. The fact that, in truth, he’s not hiding any information about his wife just makes the movie so weird, and it makes every action of the character seem bizarre and impossible. His actions are so odd that you begin to wonder if he really did kill his wife, but then you think again and realize that if he did kill his wife, he would be trying it hide it better. It’s truly bizarre. I watched the first half of the movie in the way I might watch a fly trying to leave a house, bouncing repeatedly into a closed window, when an open door was just feet away, only Nick Dunne isn’t a fly. Before I found out what actually happened to Nick’s wife, I started believing that she must have faked her own death and that her husband was in on it, but somewhat unwillingly. It was the only logical way I could explain his actions. He was emotionally detached from a possible murder/abduction of someone he, at the very least, shared a home with. He was lying about things that someone who was innocent would come clean with immediately. He operated like a guy whose wife was dragging him through a dinner party he didn’t want to attend, trying on fake smiles, and telling fake stories just to pass the hours. All the while, waiting for the whole thing to end so he could get back to his life. Then the reveal came, and I was just baffled. I was right about Nick’s wife faking her own death, but in truth, she went through painstaking lengths to frame him for her disappearance. It turns out that Amy Dunne is a wack-job of the highest order, a dangerous psychopath who has framed men for unsavory acts in the past, and is herself capable of committing murder. Shocking, right? Well, at this point in the film I’m more shocked with Affleck’s character than the plotline. We now know he’s innocent and didn’t know what was going on, yet nothing the he has done up to this point falls in line with what any rational person would have done. Hell, it doesn’t fall in line with what any irrational person would have done. The rest of the movie is comprised of Nick Dunne finally realizing his wife is/was/will continue to be a psychopath, and finally telling the world the truth about their not-so-happy life together. The only problem is that he’s made such a ridiculous mess of being innocent that the local authorities are ready to lock him up and throw away the key. Add to that the fact that his nutjob of a wife sees him tell the truth about them on national television and this somehow convinces her that she wants to be back in his life as some sort of fake robot-wife. She proceeds to kill a guy from her past while framing him for the kidnapping, and then returns to Affleck crying and covered in blood, all while cameras a rolling. (Yeah, the movie has kind of jumped the shark at this point). But now we have the final act of weirdness to endure. One more completely illogical move in the life of the impossible Nick Dunne. Here’s a question, what would you do if a spouse who had just framed you for their murder returned to you, in an obviously psychopathic way, with some cockamamie story that you weren’t buying for one second? Wouldn’t you want to get away from this person as fast as you could, for say, oh, I don’t know… forever? Not Nick Dunne. He decides to stay at home, married to a monster, pretending everything is okay, even though at no point does he fall back in love with this woman, or believe any of her crazy, psycho bullshit. I just wanted to smack the man. That’s not how this works; that’s not how any of this works. I was reminded of the old adage: Who is more foolish? The fool, or the fool that follows them? But the parallel to this situation would be: Who is more insane? The psychopath, or the psychopath who follows them? I guess the real shocking twist of Gone Girl is that you assume you’re watching a movie about a mysterious crime, and in the end, you’ve just been watching a love story for crazy people. Cue up the Billy Joel. “You may be right, I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.”
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Running is a pastime that’s been growing on me lately. I challenged myself to run 500 miles this year, and two months in, I have 379 miles to go. This past weekend my wife and I completed the Excalibur 10 Miler in Viera, Florida. The theme of the race was Medieval; somewhat like a Renaissance Fair. Some runners dressed up accordingly, and much of the race decorum maintained the theme. Before the race began, runners were entertained by a battle between two actors from the Medieval Times dinner show in Orlando. It was somewhat akin to the battle between the Mountain and the Red Viper from Game of Thrones, except no one’s head was crushed like a grape. It was entertaining though, and put a unique twist on the otherwise repetitive exercise of running ten miles. In fact, it was the unique theme of the race that first prompted my wife and I to participate. My wife was really the impetus for my beginning to run. She was on the Cross Country Team in high school and decided to get back into running a couple years ago. I decided to join her, firstly as support, but secondly because I was looking to kick my own posterior into form. However, I could have chosen a multitude of different activities to become involved in. She gets the credit for making that choice to run. Because we live in Florida, she has been signing up for the RunDisney races that Disney World puts on throughout the year. (You can see some of her blog posts here). She loves getting involved with all things Disney, and the races give her a chance to do something active, while geeking out on her favorite childhood nostalgia. (Leave it to Disney to find great ways to merge events into marketing gold). It’s always amazed me how many people really love getting involved with these races, and especially, how many people like to dress up for them. So many people love the idea of showing off as their favorite characters. This all gave me an idea. I don’t know how to get something like this started – it would certainly take people with more time and know-how than me – but I thought it would be a great idea to have an author run. The race could be any distance, or distances, and the obvious theme of the race would be literary. Racers could elect to dress as any of their favorite literary characters, (I can easily picture a hundred women dressed as Katniss Everdeen) and the race could serve as a sort of literary festival. It is common, in these races, to have a festival-style area located at the finish. Vendors set up booths, mostly with food, drink, and products suited for runners. It becomes part of the event, something that makes it more than just a run, and it lends itself to creating a race that has a theme. I think it would be a great idea for an author race to have booths set up where you could meet local authors. They could give books away, talk to prospective readers, and gain exposure. It would be a great way for authors to get out from behind the computer and find fans in a unique way. I know I’d be happy to have a booth at an event like this. So, help me out event planners and runners, let’s get this event off of the ground. I’m sure someone has some great ideas that could add to the event. Post in the comments. I’m interested to know what you think. Amazon Kindle has a neat little function where readers can highlight passages in their favorite books and everyone gets to see what they like. (Don’t I sound like a hundred-year-old man marveling at the magic of the Interweb?) From time to time, I look at these highlights. I find it interesting personally to see what it is I’ve written that others find highlight-worthy, but more importantly, I pay attention to it to help my future writing.
I do want to strike a chord with people when I write. It’s always been my ambition to write something that a person can find some meaning in, whether it prompts a person to think about the world in a different way, or if it simply echoes the way someone already feels about life. So, I thought I would write a blog post that details the things that are striking a chord with readers of the Everflame series. Who knows, maybe your highlight is in here? Highlights from Everflame: “You are a mystery my son, like a cloud that continues forever. No one can see through to what lies on the other side.” “We all have the ability to judge our own hearts, and we should all have the courage to do so.” “That’s the funny thing about truth. Give it enough time and it’ll see its own way through.” “Strange are the ways of the mind, and stranger is the fuel of emotion.” “The Everflame is a symbol, Tomas. It has no power. It’s just a reminder of something we all have, our spirit. And it is to this spirit that we are accountable, not to an all-powerful tyrant, not even to ancient creators, simply to ourselves. By making an oath to the Everflame, I am merely making an oath to all that I am. If I break that oath, it is I who suffer the greatest loss, and nothing can change that. All these men who barter with their Holy for forgiveness should ask themselves, first, for this forgiveness. They would not find it so easy to come by. We all have the ability to judge our own hearts, and we should all have the courage to do so.” Highlights from Everflame 2: The Burning Man: “Every day, every hour, every minute. We choose right or we choose wrong. We are not defined by our past and we are not defined by our future. Only our present.” “No being can be good or evil. It is actions that are good and evil.” “Everyone has darkness inside of them. Every being on this Earth has the potential for great good and great evil. We all must fight to keep the darkness from consuming us, keep it from burning inside.” “People are afraid of the unknown. It’s the most powerful fear I’ve ever seen. The sad thing about it is that it prevents most of the world from opening their eyes to the things that are right in front of them.” “Everyone needs a reason to protect that which is good in the world. Without it, the darkness can convince you that the world isn’t worth your efforts.” “I want so desperately to know good from evil. What if the difference is only a matter of perspective?” “A young boy asks his father why all of the other children are afraid of the darkness. The boy’s father replies simply that the other children are afraid because they cannot see in the darkness and there might be dangerous things that they cannot see. The young boy smiles and laughs at his father’s answer. Don’t the children know? Asks the boy. They cannot be seen in the darkness either.” Charles believes that the purpose of every human being is to find one relationship and devote themselves to it completely and totally. He said that one should treat it like an artist’s masterpiece. Charles said that the masterpiece is called love. “He is a man who has the knowledge to see the world for what it really is, and the wisdom to let it be.” “A flame will keep the darkness at bay, but only as long as it burns.” “Heroes never live to tell their own tales.” Highlights from Everflame 3: War Cry: “The best decision is not always a matter of right or wrong, it depends on reason and purpose.” The world cares not for heroes. It will bend and break their will through the maddening chaos of its existence. It will drag their dreams across its sandy crust, crushing hope beneath the weight of its rocky bones. The world cares not for heroes. It destroys them. Suicide is the will to change and therefore cannot be an acceptance of defeat. “There is suffering that comes from hope, but because of hope, suffering can never defeat you.” A moment often comes to pass that defines the nature of an individual. It is a moment where the world forces you to bend to its will or suffer the consequences, a moment where it becomes painful and clear that there is no victory to be had over the will of the world, but to continue the fight, undaunted, is within itself a prize. To fight for one more minute of life; to fight for one more perfect moment in a world that does not easily afford such things; to fight for those who have given to you their all. “It is my burden! You wish to see it laid out in front of you?... Fine… you shall have it. You ask me if I love you, no. Love is a word and a definition and a thing that has been given limits. What I feel because of you is all; it is everything. Reason has no place within my heart because my heart is full of you. You are my motivation, my faith, the blood that lives within me. Everything I am is for you and you alone… I know my desire is futile, and I do not care. I will walk this world alone for the whole of time and I will carry this in me forever… and every step taken… will be for you. There is no other way for me.” With tears falling from her eyes, she rushed forward and kissed him as hard as she could. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and as they did, his defenses fell and he returned her kiss. He surrendered to her and for the first time in his life, his heart knew a pain that was joy. “It was not long ago that I realized that love is not an unknown adventure in a far off land, love is a warm blanket waiting at home.” I will build myself. I will become. Every waking moment I possess will be a moment I spend working on me. “There is good in this world. There are things I’ve found in this world that are precious to me, because they bring light into my darkness; they chase away my darkness. I know now that my life is about those things. My purpose is to fight for those things, fight for the things that fill me with light, and fight against the things that threaten them. Highlights from Everflame 4: As The Darkness Waits: Among equals, there is no such thing as treason. Treason only exists in the hands of those with power, and they may only use it against those who are without. But what is the use of wisdom when one has a sword? What use is freedom when one fears treason? And what use is life when one has honor? We are all following dreams and visions; we who are cursed and graced by this fire called hope. However, I will not be a slave to dreams and visions; I will lead myself. I am strong and I am a singularity. I am a builder of self, in wisdom, body and spirit. I have the faith to believe in and cast judgment upon myself. I will stand the line between the light and the darkness. I will master myself for as long as I am lost in the gray. They walked onward for escape, not for hope, but escape can never come for those who walk with hell in their heads. We are not good or evil, we just are, and it is only our actions that can be defined. Dreams have always been an integral part of my creative process. I dream vividly, at length, and regularly. For a time during my youth, I imagined that everyone dreamed in the same way that I did. It wasn’t until open dialogue about dreaming, with friends and family, that I discovered dream patterns can be very different for every individual. I was stunned, frankly, to learn that some people don’t even remember their dreams when they wake. The thought was strange to me, mostly because my own dreams were so lucid, regular, and often left a deep impression on me. There have been many days of my life where the previous night’s dreams have affected my mood throughout the entire day. When I was younger, I suffered through something called Incubus Attacks (though I didn’t know what they were at the time). An Incubus Attack occurs when there is discord between the sleeping mind and the sleeping body. The results can be quite terrifying because, essentially, you can dream when your body is awake. These episodes didn’t happen erratically, and spontaneously, during the day. It’s not as if I had a form of schizophrenia. Incubus Attacks usually take place in the time when your mind is transitioning to sleep, or transitioning awake. It’s as if the world of dream bleeds slightly into the conscious world. I was four years old the first time I can remember having an Incubus Attack. I had awaked in the middle of the night, and for one reason or another, left my bed. I looked out the window and saw, at a distance, Grover. Yes, Grover from Sesame Street. Grover turned, looked at me, and then began running toward my window, screaming and flailing his arms. Naturally, I began screaming, and my parents found me crying below the window in my bedroom. I experienced many Incubus Attacks in my youth, but not all were so lively. Mostly, I would feel something touching me that wasn’t there, or I could hear someone yelling at me that wasn’t there. These specific attacks would usually occur as I transitioned to sleep. The last graphic Incubus Attack I remember took place when I was fifteen. I woke in the middle of the night and sat up in bed. I looked into the corner of my room and found an orb, glowing and floating about four feet off of the ground. As I watched it, it shot a red laser beam toward the foot of my bed. I got out of bed and walked over to the light switch, which was at the other side of the bedroom, all the while keeping my eye on the orb. When I turned the light switch on, the orb was gone. I was alone, standing in my bedroom, wondering what was happening to me. It wasn’t until my mid-twenties that I came across the term and realized that I had been having Incubus Attacks as a child. Though the attacks stopped, my spirited dreaming did not. I would have to say that I have always had rich dreams on a nightly basis, with rare exception. However, it wasn’t until I began writing that I found a way to make my dreams work for me. In fact, the first two chapters of Everflame were from a dream I had. In the dream, I was Evercloud, the helpless child. I was prisoner to the events going on around me, and I can remember having some distinct connection with the bears that controlled my fate. The dream didn’t detail everything that I’ve written in those chapters, but I can still recall the memory of the mountain and the flame to this day. As an adult, the types of dreams I have are what I call video game dreams. I’m usually in some life or death situation, where the circumstances are very fantastical, and I have to find some special object, or defeat some evil foe. Very often, the fate of the world hangs in the balance. I suppose I didn’t have much of a choice but to become a fantasy adventure writer. The book I’m currently working on, The Dean Machine, has a lot of influence from my dreaming as well. The impetus for the book was a real-life event that affected me deeply, however much of the plotline comes directly from my dreams. I can remember being the main character of The Dean Machine, Dan Delacor. I can still feel the panic that overtook me as I ran from the great wall of Yellow City, running as far as I could from the clutches of the evil Chancellor Elgrey Vinsidian. I can remember, quite vividly, the confusion of wandering with my little dog, Dean, not knowing where we were. I can remember the sickness in my stomach as I discovered that I was… well, I won’t ruin it for you. Besides, the book is not finished, and who knows what I might dream up tonight. And I suppose that’s the truth of my writing, and the source of my imagination. I have no method, no tactics, and no brainstorming techniques. I dream. I simply lay my head down and immerse myself in the unknown. I’ll try to keep you apprised of what I find. No New Year’s Resolution comes from a place of strength. New Year’s resolutions have backstory, and that backstory is usually filled with a certain amount of trial and error that is tragically dominated by the error. It’s from a place of struggle that we derive these yearly promises of growth. It’s from a place of shameful longing that we endeavor to torture ourselves, year-after-year, with the hope a better self. Would be that we succeed; it would be shocking, would it not? Don’t we secretly laugh and doubt every resolution that crosses our desk, like some veto-happy legislator striking down each proposal for a better world?
The cynic in me shakes his head at the New Year’s Resolution as if it’s something to be pitied. But the cynic in me must die. When I was young, I was what people politely call “husky.” In truth, I was a lumbering ogre of a boy without the charisma or self-confidence to keep myself away from my cynical predilection. I was an uninspired loaf who preferred sandwiches to social events, solitude to significance, and sitting to standing (literally and figuratively). I played sports as a child, but only sports where my size was an advantage. I was taller than most, so I played basketball, I weighed more than most, so I played football, and I could throw things hard and far, so I played baseball. However, when I tried to play soccer… I met my match. In an aside to my parents, my coach ventured to say, “he doesn’t really like to run, does he?” Like to run? Was he joking? Not only did I not like to run, I believe my younger self thought running would induce death or seizure. I couldn’t run and I wouldn’t work to get better. Sure, I had to run in other sports, but not for so long, and it certainly wasn’t as important. My usual plan of Hulk smash didn’t work in soccer, and for that reason, I only tried the sport for one season. I allowed myself to fail and quit because I couldn’t run. When we are confronted with the things that are most difficult for us, we often turn our backs on them, citing that these things just aren’t our strength. We tell ourselves that it’s okay, because we still have other talents, and everyone can’t be good at everything. We lie to ourselves, and allow ourselves to believe that it’s about a fate that we can’t change, and not about our own weakness. Fast-forward to one year ago, and the past was rearing its ugly head. My wife was a runner in high school, and wanted to rediscover the hobby. I was less than enthusiastic, however, my outlook on many things has changed since my brooding adolescence, so I tried it with her. With the memory of that fat boy, laughing at me the whole time, I failed again at running. I was just as terrible at it as I was when I was young. The lying ways of my youth came creeping back. Well, I’m just not built to be a runner. I don’t really enjoy it. I’m just doing it for my wife. Unfortunately for my lies, I’ve grown wiser with age. I couldn’t live with the excuses. I can’t be such a hypocrite. It was truly time to flush out that fat boy I once was. I was Densa, kneeling amid the dust and rubble of failure, telling myself to get up. So, I got up. Six months ago I made a commitment to do something I had never succeeded at before, and frankly, never thought I could succeed at. I began running regularly, and though my improvement has been slow, I have improved. I can now run six miles, and I don’t plan on stopping there. I’m not sure what distance I would consider a success, but I’m not sure that it matters. The thing I’ve found in running is that it’s not about finishing, it’s about continuing and enduring. This year, I have a New Year’s Resolution. This year, I will run 500 miles. I am a Continuum fan. I never expected much from the show when I first gave it a chance on Netflix. I love good science fiction, but I rarely seem to find good science fiction. Most of the time, science fiction fans are fed the same tired storylines that fail to hold interest. Or often, the ideas are interesting, but the entertainment money machine knows it won’t be able to effectively market to a slack-witted populace, so the project ultimately fails due to poor acting and poor funding. The latter of those two options is what I expected, at best, from Continuum. I found myself pleasantly surprised. The acting is good, and the writing buoys it. The series has allowed for character building in ways that you don’t usually find in science fiction. The characters stay indelibly human, and it makes them relatable amid a storyline that couldn’t possibly relate to anyone. (I think). Suspended disbelief is an understatement in any storyline that deals with time travel, but Continuum pulls it off wonderfully and leaves you wanting to watch each character’s progress. The show also dares to walk amid the gray fog that stands between right and wrong, which is always a theme that interests me. In a world where the future can be changed, the ethics of exacting that change is a daily conundrum for the characters. I know it may not be a popular feeling, but I greatly enjoy stories that make me think more deeply about my own world and my own life. A “question everything” credo has always been a guilty pleasure I won’t relinquish. So, needless to say, when the third season concluded and there was no contract for a fourth, I was upset. I wanted this show to finish. Not just because of the human need for closure in any situation, or because I liked the show, but because this show had done something different, and it deserved to be able to continue its story. Success for Continuum could mean success for other shows that make you think as much as they make you feel, while still entertaining. After months of wondering and waiting, Showcase, the Canadian channel that has rights to Continuum, released all Continuum fans from their self-imposed purgatory. http://www.shawmedia.ca/Media/PressReleaseDetail.aspx?pressReleaseId=6442460551 The show would be renewed. (Cheers come from the crowd.) For a fourth and final season. (Hmm. Really?) That will consist of six episodes. (Shit.) Great news, that turned into just good news, that eventually settled on a giant cloud of impending doom. If you’ve never watched the show, or even if you haven’t watched the first three seasons, you may not understand why I would react that way. However, for those who have watched the first three seasons, the immediate question is: How in the world are they going to tie this story up in six episodes without completely destroying everything that was good about Continuum? I am dubious… insanely dubious. For fans of the show, you know that the end of the third season was almost akin to a sucker punch, but in a good way. (What? You’ve never been punched and liked it?) It was one of those moments in a storyline that tells you “everything you know is wrong.” Continuum had taken you off in one direction for three seasons, for the shear purpose of building you up to tear you down. It was the kind of breaking point that left you saying, “wow, this is going to get so good. They’re going to have to keep this going for another four seasons, at least.” Nope… six episodes. Simon Barry is a great writer, but six episodes? If he can pull it off I’ll be amazed, and honestly, I’m really pulling for him. Continuum is a show I recommend, and a show I can’t wait to watch again. The SyFy Channel gets the right to broadcast it to us in the States, and when the fourth season premieres, I’ll be watching it full of hope. But I’ll be watching it in the way I watch a basketball team, down ten points, with one minute to play. I’m pulling for you, but you’re going to have to pull off a miracle to win this one. ORIGINALLY POSTED 12/2/2014
As an author, you need to spend a good deal of time with words. Of course this is beyond an obvious statement, but we often look past the obvious in our lives to the detriment of fundamental mastery. Does a master woodworker not need to obsess over wood? Should the master arborist not have a devoted attention for even the simplest and most common of trees? Should I, if in fact I care about my craft, not look at a word as benign as ‘hello’ and wonder where it came from and why we use it? (According to the Oxford English Dictionary, hello is an alteration of hallo, which came from the Old High German word halâ, used especially in hailing a ferryman). I think it is important for someone in my field to seek this information and have a curiosity about these things. Often, I’ve come across humorous and interesting words. What I wanted to share in this blogpost were a few examples of words and phrases that have left the modern lexicon for one reason or another, and I would argue that they should be brought back. For what reason, you ask? For fun, for perspective, or for no reason other than my own strange curiosity. You are welcome to whichever reason you prefer. “Tell it to Sweeney!” Meaning – what you say when you believe something to be untrue, meaning, tell it to someone who is dumb enough to believe it. Usage – “You say a good book can’t have talking bears? Pfft, tell it to Sweeney!” Etymology – “Sweeney” referenced the myriad of monikers used in England around the 1800s to describe the stereotypical Irishman. Offish Meaning – distant, reserved, aloof Usage – “Isn’t it great how offish Dylan Lee Peters is? I wish I could be that offish!” Etymology – comes directly from standoffish Fuzzled Meaning – Drunk Usage – “Poor Dylan Lee Peters has gone and got himself fuzzled again. Though, it does improve his writing.” Etymology – derivative of the French word fusel, which means bad liquor Bookwright Meaning – A writer of books; an author Usage – “Dylan Lee Peters is the best bookwright ever. Anyone who says different can tell it to Sweeney!” Etymology – from book + wright. The word wright deriving from Old English and meaning ‘related to work.’ Groak Meaning – To silently watch someone while they are eating, hoping to be invited to join them Usage – “Dylan Lee Peters is going to groak you if you eat that taco in front of him. He will groak you like a dog.” Etymology – I couldn’t find the origin of this word, but had to include it. If you know the origin, please post it in the comments. ORIGINALLY POSTED 11/5/2014
If you’ve read the What Is Everflame? page of my website, then you know that the concept of Everflame means something more to me. It stands for my ethics, philosophies, and character, and I believe it can mean that for anyone. I see the concept of Everflame as an individual’s inner barometer. It’s something to think about when you need to look within yourself for strength. The strength I find within myself, I call Everflame. I try to apply this inner strength to my life as much as I can, though no one can be perfect, and there are certainly times that I struggle. However, I feel that the Everflame Series has “talked the talk,” and I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t at least try to “walk the walk.” Through this series of blog posts, titled My Everflame, I intend to document this search for strength within myself. Recently, my father-in-law Nick Geiermann passed away, after a struggle with ALS. Nick was a great man, and I can say this without having known him through the entirety of his life, and without having spent an immense amount of time with him. I know this because I know the woman he raised, and I love her more than any other. To me, Nick Geiermann is responsible for someone who has enriched my life with love in a way words do no justice. Now, in these days after his passing, I look within myself to find my role after this tragic event. I look within myself for the strength to honor him and to do what he would have wanted. My wife and I met each other, and still live with each other today, in Florida. However, my wife grew up in Michigan and that is where her father, Nick, lived his life. Due to the distance between us, I never spent as much time with Nick as I would have liked to. In fact, the first time I met Nick was when I asked for his blessing to marry his daughter. I’ll never forget that conversation. It was a difficult thing for me to express deep feelings to a man I had only just met, but I believed he needed to know who I was, and how I felt. The words we spoke to each other during that conversation were not as important to me as what I could see in Nick’s eyes. It may sound foolish, but I’ve never evaluated a man by his words. To me, it’s the spaces between those words that say so much more. It’s the moments of silence in which we search for the correct words to convey how we really feel that give everything away. In that conversation, and in those moments that I was pouring my feelings out to a man I barely knew, his eyes told me everything I ever need to know about Nick Geiermann. He eyes conveyed that he loved his daughter deeply and he was both terrified of me and grateful for me, all at the same time. I could see in his eyes the caution with which he regarded me. I can only assume he was trying to figure out everything he could about me, with not enough information to make such an important decision. Ultimately, his want for his daughter’s happiness coaxed him into accepting me. His want for his daughter’s happiness gave him the strength to take my words as truth. What I learned about Nick Geiermann on that day was that his want for his daughter’s happiness was as strong as anything. So, as I look within myself during this difficult time, I now know exactly what to do. I know what Nick would want from me, and I’ve known it ever since that first conversation. I am here for his daughter’s happiness, her security, and her well-being. I will love her, protect her, and be there for her always. I promised that to him then, and I reaffirm that commitment now. We will miss you, Nick. Originally Posted 10/9/2014 Sleeping Beauty was released from the Disney Movie Vault yesterday, and that may not be an especially important event in the grand scope of life, but in my house it was marked on a calendar. My wife happens to be one of millions of women across our great nation who grew up on the magical tales spun by the Walt Disney Company, and those memories have blossomed into unabashed fandom occasionally bordering mania. Really though, who am I kidding? It would be dismissive of me, a man who has written stories of English-speaking bears, to ignore my own nostalgia and influence derived from movies I loved as a child. For every grown woman wrapping herself in the warm blanket of Disney princesses, there is a grown man playing with a Star Wars Lightsaber while wearing a Yoda t-shirt. We all have been molded by the fantasies of our youth in some way. So I figured that I would list five movies that were a large part of mine. ORIGINALLY POSTED 10/23/2014
When I set to thinking each year about what would make a great Halloween costume, I’m usually brought back to a simple decision I made almost ten years ago. I was living in New Hampshire, and had been invited to a friend’s house party. The weather report was for a cold, clear night, (house parties always seem to spill outside) and I knew there would probably be around thirty people attending the party. Now, I have always been an introvert, and any introvert never really enjoys being around a large group of people, even when they are all friends. So, while the creative in me wanted a costume that somehow stood out, the introvert in me wanted to be left alone to have deep and meaningful conversations with myself. The costume I decided on turned out to be the single greatest Halloween idea that I’ve ever had. I wore a gorilla suit. From head to foot, I was a big furry gorilla. Now this solution seems simple, and not very creative, not to mention there was a high level of likelihood that the six-foot-three, two hundred and fifty pound gorilla might attract a lot of attention at a party. However, it wasn’t really the costume alone that made the idea perfect for me, it was what the costume afforded me the ability to do. When I arrived at the party everyone walked directly over to the big gorilla that had just entered, and believe it or not, were incredibly entertained when the gorilla refused to say a word, or identify who was wearing the costume, or to acknowledge them in any human way whatsoever. I had created the perfect wall between the party and myself. This was a stroke of antisocial genius. I walked around, all night long, awkwardly standing next to people, dancing wildly to bad music, and all the while, never having to make small talk or pretend to be interested in anything I didn’t want to take an interest in. As the night wore on, the entertainment my gorilla costume was giving me mounted. I could overhear people’s conversations about me as if I weren’t there. “Who’s the big gorilla?” someone would ask. “We think it’s Dylan, but we’re really not sure.” “What do mean? You don’t know who it really is?” “The gorilla hasn’t said a word to anyone all night. Honestly, we’re not sure if Dylan even said he was coming to the party.” “Isn’t that kind of weird?" “Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s kind of funny. Everybody’s finding hidden bananas all over the house.” Before the party, I went to the grocery store and purchased roughly twenty bananas. Then, right before the party, I placed all of the bananas in a black backpack and wore it over the gorilla suit. Throughout the night, I hid bananas in random places all over the house. I put a banana in a light fixture, I put a banana in someone’s bed (under the sheets), I put a banana in the toilet, a couple hours into the night and there were bananas everywhere. I even found out the next day that the party’s hostess had woken up covered in smashed banana. She probably should have checked for bananas before falling asleep that night. The gorilla became the odd event of the party, and everyone loved it. I’ll admit, I did have a few conversations with other people throughout the night, but they happily agreed to keep my secret and keep the gag going. The gorilla suit gave me the ability to experience the party in only the ways I wanted to, and it remains the best costume I’ve ever had. Maybe I’ll bring the silent gorilla back one day? |