(Whipped it up in ArtStudio with the Apple Pencil on my iPad Pro, if anyone's curious.)
Tuesday, August 02, 2016
Admit it: You WANT this to be a real game...
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
The video that brought cops to my house
I just figured out that I can embed videos from Facebook onto this blog!
Which may or may not be a good thing. Considering the videos I've been making for my Facebook audience of late (yes, Yours Truly has been busy even if it didn't reflect on this site).
Okay well, here's the one that got EVERYONE talking. I've mentioned before how the mayor and city council of my old hometown of Reidsville, without real due process, removed a hundred-year old Civil War monument and in its place put up a $30,000 monstrosity straight out of a Hellraiser movie.
I finally saw it with my own eyes about two months ago. And, well... I kinda went mad with power and my new iPad Pro:
Which may or may not be a good thing. Considering the videos I've been making for my Facebook audience of late (yes, Yours Truly has been busy even if it didn't reflect on this site).
Okay well, here's the one that got EVERYONE talking. I've mentioned before how the mayor and city council of my old hometown of Reidsville, without real due process, removed a hundred-year old Civil War monument and in its place put up a $30,000 monstrosity straight out of a Hellraiser movie.
I finally saw it with my own eyes about two months ago. And, well... I kinda went mad with power and my new iPad Pro:
I put that on Facebook and the views came like crazy!
Then the next morning, two Reidsville Police officers arrived at my front door. Mind ya, I was living fifteen minutes away from the city limits, but they still came. Apparently some idiot had seen the clip and gone Homeland Security about it and notified the authorities. The cops and I had a nice conversation for about twenty minutes or so. They told me that they could tell it was just someone having fun, especially since they could just look out their window and see the statue was still intact, "but in this day and time we have to investigate." They made it absolutely clear that I had done nothing wrong, and didn't give me a warning or anything like that. They seemed pretty entertained by it.
But y'all wouldn't believe how many people around Reidsville have told me that they REALLY got a thrill out of watching that abomination getting blasted to smithereens. Methinks the "monument" is far less popular than the town father's would like to admit.
More videos soon.
Monday, July 18, 2016
The journey thus far...
After the previous post, Tammy and I left Reidsville. A few hours later we were in Asheville and it was there that I hooked up with Weird Ed for a special screening of the original Ghostbusters. Check out Ed's costume! He made everything but the proton pack (and that's coming soon)...
Two days in Asheville. We left on Tuesday morning then dipped down to Greenville, South Carolina and hooked up once again with our very dear friend Melody Hallman Daniel (she of Forcery and my first school board campaign ad fame). Here she is with Tammy and her service dog Sasha:
And at the McDonald's near my hotel I met the delightful Jeff and Marie from Norway!
Left Greenville on Thursday night. Atlanta just before midnight. We were there until Saturday morning.
So... where is all of this going? It's been five weeks now and I still don't know. What I'm doing now, all I can really put it is that it's something God has laid on my heart since this past winter. Dad's house was sold a few days before we left Reidsville. That was really the only thing keeping me there. I had known it was coming. And it was like God was saying "Chris, what are you still doing here? You're at a better place than you've ever been before with the manic depression. You've come out of your longest and darkest period by far. You have a full life ahead of you... so go and make the most of it!"
And that's what I'm doing now.
Why haven't I been posting hardly at all these last several months? It was a little over a year ago when the absolutely WORST bout of depression I've ever had, hit. And there was scarcely anything that worked. Heck, two different medications I tried during those months almost drove me to suicide. It wasn't until around Christmas and when The Force Awakens was about to come out that things began to improve. What REALLY did the trick was a daytime program I went through during most of January at a behavioral health facility near Greensboro.
Almost immediately after that ended, is when the drive to set out from Reidsville began. Where to, I didn't know. But I saw it so clearly: my Camry packed with the bare essentials. Me behind the wheel and my miniature dachshund Tammy in the passenger seat. Headed out of town, going wherever God may lead us. A classic American story: a boy and his dog, setting out to find their destiny.
On June 12th, that's what I did.
So let's see, where were we? Oh yeah. I didn't know where to go from Atlanta: I-75 north into Tennessee and beyond, or west? For a number of reasons, west "felt right" more. So for the rest of the day that Saturday we went through Alabama...
...and some time later hit Mississippi...
In Tupelo we stopped at the birthplace of Elvis Presley before heading on to Memphis.
The next morning before leaving Memphis, we made a brief "religious pilgrimage" to the gates of Graceland:
Then we were off again. Across the Mississippi River, into Arkansas and north. Several hours later we made it to Missouri. Later that evening we arrived in St. Louis:
The next night I finally got to meet in person a longtime friend from across the Internet: Scott, along with his very lovely bride Claire!
We were in the St. Louis area until Thursday. Then we were off again, vaguely headed to Kansas City. En route we came to Waynesville, along historic Route 66. And for the first time in many years met up again with Matt, a friend from Elon:
That night, headed out again. But instead of all the way to Kansas City we made it to Springfield. I would have loved to have stayed a few days and checked out the town, but a zillion Jehovah's Witnesses were descending on the city for some big meeting and they'd booked ALL the hotel rooms long months before.
So Tammy and I had breakfast and were in the road again. Before heading north I took us about 45 minutes out of the way because I just HAD to see what the big deal about Branson, Missouri was all about. I had honestly underestimated the place. Its reputation is WELL deserved and someday Lord willing I have a family I'd love to take them there. Would have been awesome to see Mel Tillis in concert, but we had to get going...
It was about 5-ish on Friday night that we got to Kansas City. I was eager to see if that town's barbecue was really "all that". The desk clerk suggested a joint nearby, which turned out to be a SERIOUSLY aloud honky-tonk outfit. The ribs I brought back to the hotel room were astonishingly massive. Like the kind that tipped over Fred Flintstone's car in the end credits of every episode.
Kansas City until Monday. I had planned to go to Wichita. Again, no real end destination clearly in mind. Along the way we had to stop for gas.
And that is how I discovered the town of Emporia, Kansas. Among other things, the childhood home of legendary North Carolina basketball coach Dean Smith...
We stayed in Emporia for more than a week. Sweet little burg! There were girls playing hopscotch in the park. Real, honest to goodness hopscotch! And families having cookouts with their neighbors. I didn't know such places still existed in America. Emporia is the kind of place every small town in the country should aspire to be.
Sunday night, July 3rd, Tammy and me drove more than an hour to Wichita and found a place called Firebirds. And once again I had barbecue ribs. Made with an exotic sauce derived from coffee. Maybe the most succulent ribs I've ever enjoyed:
On the drive back, I saw something I had never witnessed before and would have been impossible to behold anywhere in North Carolina: from horizon to horizon, all around us, every little town and community and village was setting off their own fireworks shows, celebrating the Fourth a night early. You could see fireworks lighting up the sky for MILES around, across the prairie.
We left Emporia on Tuesday morning. Stopped for an oil change in Wichita. And then, for no real apparent reason other than it seemed the right direction, we were headed to Oklahoma. We made it to Tulsa and spent a few days there.
Tulsa is home to Oral Roberts University and that's where they have a kaiju-sizes pair of praying hands at the entrance. Almost like somebody severed King Kong at the wrists:
Thursday morning is when Pokemon Go went live. I had it on my iPhone (yes folks the impossible has occurred: Chris Knight now has an iPhone, may God have mercy on my soul...) later that afternoon and I caught my first Pokemon at what used to be City of Faith. Many of you might remember that as the place where Oral Roberts said he saw a 900-foot tall Jesus telling him to go on television and declare that if people didn't send in millions of dollars, that God would call Roberts "home". My first Pokemon was a Zubat. Make of that what you will.
We left Tulsa on Saturday morning. But before leaving the area I finally got to meet some of the good people at Team Covenant: that terrific gaming website I've mentioned a number of times in recent years! They have their own retail store now. Great place! I wound up buying the Imperial Veterans expansion pack for the Star Wars X-Wing Miniatures game.
On to Claremore, about thirty miles away, and the Will Rogers Memorial Museum. In a garden adjacent to the museum is the final resting place of "Oklahoma's Favorite Son" along with most of his family:
Some hours later we arrived in Oklahoma City. I had directed Siri on my iPhone to get us to downtown. When we got there, just on a lark I asked how far were we from the location of the Murrah Building: the federal building hit by the bombing in 1995. As it turned out, we were less than half a mile away, straight down the street we were already on.
It also turned out that the Murrah Building was never rebuilt. On the site there is now a memorial to those who died:
We got a room. And the following night I had dinner with a longtime reader of this blog: the lovely and exuberant Crystal!
Incidentally, Tammy has been a hit EVERYWHERE we've gone. She has ridden in my lap practically every bit of this thousand-some mile journey. A lot of times with her head out the window. Oh, she certainly loves the attention :-)
'Course, with the Pokemon Go craze currently raging I haven't been able to keep from having fun with it along the way:
And I was able to find one of the precious few Krispy Kreme shops west of the Mississippi:
So here we are: five weeks later. Still in Oklahoma City. At the moment I'm contemplating stuff. Doing a lot of prayer. Asking God to show me... where do we go now? I think we've arrived at a crossroads. I could keep going west. Or southwest toward Texas. Or back through Kansas and points beyond. Maybe even south toward Louisiana.
I don't know yet. But, it doesn't matter. This adventure has been predicated from the start on keeping going until God makes clear that we are wherever He needs me to be. The place where, I really believe there will be a happiness I've never been able to know. Not until now. It's like all this time, God was using circumstance to keep me from doing something this bold. And now He's set me loose into the world. To see if the American Dream is really out there, or something.
They say it's not the destination, but the journey. Already, I'm not the person I was when I left Reidsville. I'm not going to come back there someday the same person who left. That guy is gone now, forever. Even now, the things that have happened along the way... and I've BARELY scratched the surface here... have altered me. Transformed me. Into someone far better than who I had been before.
And I think I'm going to become someone even more. Because this journey is far, far from over.
More soon.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Friday, January 15, 2016
Listen to church bells ringing "Space Oddity"
This may be the most amazing tribute to David Bowie that has been done in the past few days: Dom Tower, the tallest church tower in the Netherlands, built in 1382 and with bells dating back to 1505, tolling out "Space Oddity".
I've grown ever more fascinated with Bowie since it was announced that he had passed. Having listened to his final album and watched the last two videos he made ("Blackstar" and especially "Lazarus"), one most certainly gets the sense that Bowie was not only fully aware of his mortality, but that he was accepting it with a mighty grace. I can't help but think that there is also a sublime acknowledgement toward God in some of the lyrics and images, and that Bowie was surrendering to that.
When I posted about his passing a few days ago, I wrote that perhaps the most amazing thing of David Bowie was how he was not afraid to grow and change as he grew older. That went for him as a showman. But even more importantly, it went for him as a man. The David Bowie of 2016 was not the David Bowie of 1976, and he never pretended to be.
There is a good philosophy in there somewhere.
I've grown ever more fascinated with Bowie since it was announced that he had passed. Having listened to his final album and watched the last two videos he made ("Blackstar" and especially "Lazarus"), one most certainly gets the sense that Bowie was not only fully aware of his mortality, but that he was accepting it with a mighty grace. I can't help but think that there is also a sublime acknowledgement toward God in some of the lyrics and images, and that Bowie was surrendering to that.
When I posted about his passing a few days ago, I wrote that perhaps the most amazing thing of David Bowie was how he was not afraid to grow and change as he grew older. That went for him as a showman. But even more importantly, it went for him as a man. The David Bowie of 2016 was not the David Bowie of 1976, and he never pretended to be.
There is a good philosophy in there somewhere.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
And now, Alan Rickman is gone
We are losing an unfortunate amount of truly extraordinary talent this week...
Hans Gruber. The Sheriff of Nottingham. Rasputin. Marvin the Paranoid Android. The Metatron. So many roles that Alan Rickman had in his amazing career.
But for me, there is really only one that best exemplifies Rickman's profound ability. The role he had throughout eight films for more than a decade. A character who has come to be considered one of the most complex in all of modern fiction.
There was really only one person who could have ever brought Severus Snape alive on the big screen. And from the moment I first saw him in Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone, it's been Rickman who I've seen whenever I've re-read those books.
So in his memory, here are all of the scenes of Severus Snape from the Harry Potter films, in the character's chronological order:
But for me, there is really only one that best exemplifies Rickman's profound ability. The role he had throughout eight films for more than a decade. A character who has come to be considered one of the most complex in all of modern fiction.
There was really only one person who could have ever brought Severus Snape alive on the big screen. And from the moment I first saw him in Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone, it's been Rickman who I've seen whenever I've re-read those books.
So in his memory, here are all of the scenes of Severus Snape from the Harry Potter films, in the character's chronological order:
Monday, January 11, 2016
"And the stars look very different today..."
Very sadly, they certainly do.
A true artist in every possible sense. I think what fascinated me most about David Bowie, other than his musical and acting talent, is that he was never afraid to grow and change as he got older. He had the strength to adapt, and become even better. Too many performers try to cling to their younger days. Bowie didn't flee from his age, he embraced it and made it his own. A lot of artists would do well to emulate Bowie. And some might still be with us had they done so to begin with.
David Bowie
1947 ~ 2016
A true artist in every possible sense. I think what fascinated me most about David Bowie, other than his musical and acting talent, is that he was never afraid to grow and change as he got older. He had the strength to adapt, and become even better. Too many performers try to cling to their younger days. Bowie didn't flee from his age, he embraced it and made it his own. A lot of artists would do well to emulate Bowie. And some might still be with us had they done so to begin with.
When I think of Bowie as an actor, what will always come first to mind for me is his brief but electrifying (pun horribly intended) portrayal of Nikola Tesla in The Prestige. I can't really think of anyone else who would have possibly done the role any justice.
1947 ~ 2016
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
THE STAR WARS HOLIDAY SPECIAL aired 37 years ago tonight
It was on this night in 1978 that The Star Wars Holiday Special - arguably the WORST two-hours of television in history - aired on CBS.
So in honor of this misauspicious occasion and thanks to some poor tortured soul on YouTube, here it is (absent some music for copyright purposes):
It's all here: Chewbacca's son Lumpy, Mark Hamill's make-up overkill, Princess Leia's singing, Boba Fett's first-ever appearance (the special's one redeeming feature), Harvey Korman, Bea Arthur (?!), lots of unused B footage from A New Hope, what can only be described as a porno machine... and about twenty-seven minutes of incomprehensible Wookiee grunting.
One viewing and you'll see why George Lucas has said he would take a sledgehammer to every copy if he could. But what about you? Can you endure to the end?
 |
| Y'all won't buh-LEEEVE what is going on here. |
So in honor of this misauspicious occasion and thanks to some poor tortured soul on YouTube, here it is (absent some music for copyright purposes):
It's all here: Chewbacca's son Lumpy, Mark Hamill's make-up overkill, Princess Leia's singing, Boba Fett's first-ever appearance (the special's one redeeming feature), Harvey Korman, Bea Arthur (?!), lots of unused B footage from A New Hope, what can only be described as a porno machine... and about twenty-seven minutes of incomprehensible Wookiee grunting.
One viewing and you'll see why George Lucas has said he would take a sledgehammer to every copy if he could. But what about you? Can you endure to the end?
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
"When the skies of November turn gloomy..."
Forty years ago tonight. Here's the post that I composed on this evening in 2005. But YouTube wasn't as pervasive as it is today.
So here is Gordon Lightfoot's forever haunting ballad, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald".
The tradition will continue today. The church bell at Mariner's Church will ring thirty times: one for each man on the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald, and once more in memory of all who have perished on the Great Lakes.
As I wrote ten years ago tonight: Here's to a good ship and crew.
So here is Gordon Lightfoot's forever haunting ballad, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald".
The tradition will continue today. The church bell at Mariner's Church will ring thirty times: one for each man on the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald, and once more in memory of all who have perished on the Great Lakes.
As I wrote ten years ago tonight: Here's to a good ship and crew.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
The state of things
Hello.
It's been awhile. Maybe the longest that I've gone between making posts. I'm making this one because a lot of readers have asked if I was okay (alive, semi-comatose, joined the French Foreign Legion or what have you). Neither have I been active on Facebook and that led to family insisting that I make some indication there that I was still among the living.
So many of you are asking how things are. And things have come to a point where I'm more than compelled to offer up an answer.
So here it is:
Things are not okay.
Some very bad things have happened in my life. If there is any aspect of it that can be named, chances are it has happened. Including some physical situations which are rather considerable. I have had to take time to address these.
So far as the book goes: it's on indefinite hiatus, for a few reasons. Among them, I have reached a place where I cannot write past a certain block and it requires some things falling into place to break through that. Things which, I doubt will ever happen. I can't see past it. I was able to surpass an earlier, similar block but this one has proven to be much worse. So for now, the book is stalled and I would give anything to get past that.
I don't know what else to say at this juncture, apart from asking that you keep me in your thoughts. I am past the point of being at the end of the rope. Thing are now at the shreds of the end of the rope. My own prayers haven't worked. Maybe those of others will.
Wishing you all well.
It's been awhile. Maybe the longest that I've gone between making posts. I'm making this one because a lot of readers have asked if I was okay (alive, semi-comatose, joined the French Foreign Legion or what have you). Neither have I been active on Facebook and that led to family insisting that I make some indication there that I was still among the living.
So many of you are asking how things are. And things have come to a point where I'm more than compelled to offer up an answer.
So here it is:
Things are not okay.
Some very bad things have happened in my life. If there is any aspect of it that can be named, chances are it has happened. Including some physical situations which are rather considerable. I have had to take time to address these.
So far as the book goes: it's on indefinite hiatus, for a few reasons. Among them, I have reached a place where I cannot write past a certain block and it requires some things falling into place to break through that. Things which, I doubt will ever happen. I can't see past it. I was able to surpass an earlier, similar block but this one has proven to be much worse. So for now, the book is stalled and I would give anything to get past that.
I don't know what else to say at this juncture, apart from asking that you keep me in your thoughts. I am past the point of being at the end of the rope. Thing are now at the shreds of the end of the rope. My own prayers haven't worked. Maybe those of others will.
Wishing you all well.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Two weeks in Hell
I debated whether to make this post. No wait, scratch that: I debated whether to make any post ever again on this blog.
In the midst of the madness, a lot of thoughts raced through my mind. One of them was to give up this blog. Wondering what was the point of it. Wondering what was the point of anything. So faced with the stark meaninglessness of life in this pale shell. All was vanity, with no redeeming grace.
It's actually been worse than that, these past two weeks.
A lot of things have happened: issues which warrant action that I am unable to take. Crushed hopes (on more than one front). Frustrations.
I don't care to relate on these pages the full scope of what these have meant to me. Maybe God will yet show me that He is listening to me. That is all that I have to say in that regard.
But since I've made it a mission to document what it is that I go through in the way of manic-depression, it becomes my duty to chronicle these past two weeks regarding that realm.
To put it mildly: I've been in Hell. Or at least as close to it as can be had in this quarter of the realms of being.
Suicidal ideations. To some extent, they persist. For more than two weeks my thoughts have been overwhelmed with the desire to be dead. Because in death there is no more hurt, no more grief.
It really began three weeks ago. My medications had begun to lose their potency (a risk with any medication but especially with the treatment of mental illness). My doctor moved me off of a drug I had been on for six years, and substituted that with another: an antidepressant that is very well known and has been used by millions of people since it first hit the market.
It would take a week or so for the full effects to be felt, but it didn't take that long for the benefits to be apparent. And for a few brief days I enjoyed some serenity of being.
But then, about two and a half weeks ago, my thoughts began coming completely unhinged. Became very dark. Very troubled.
Very loaded with despair.
I began to experience a pain which even in all the time since before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, has been excruciating more than any other. It was an overwhelming desire to be dead. To be beyond pain. To never again have all of these hurts.
I prayed for death. I begged God to let me die, if He was listening at all.
The only reason why I didn't go into the hospital is because the thoughts didn't deviate into full-blown actively plotting to do myself in.
But I think that I did try to commit suicide. I'm not sure. I just wanted to be numb to it all, without a care as to how I achieved it. I took an overload of the medication. It did nothing. Nothing at all.
I was desperate to die and I couldn't even do that much.
This is what I've had to go through for the past two weeks. A never-wavering longing to die.
I still want it. I still want to die. Some moments anyway. That's just the medication, which under my doctor's supervision I stopped five days ago. It's still in my system. In the meantime I'm about to begin a new medication.
This had better work. I want it to. People aren't meant to live like this. Living, just to want to die.
I want to hope again. Hope that there is some life still ahead of me, despite manic-depression.
I pray that God will give me some indication that He really is watching over me.
In the midst of the madness, a lot of thoughts raced through my mind. One of them was to give up this blog. Wondering what was the point of it. Wondering what was the point of anything. So faced with the stark meaninglessness of life in this pale shell. All was vanity, with no redeeming grace.
It's actually been worse than that, these past two weeks.
A lot of things have happened: issues which warrant action that I am unable to take. Crushed hopes (on more than one front). Frustrations.
I don't care to relate on these pages the full scope of what these have meant to me. Maybe God will yet show me that He is listening to me. That is all that I have to say in that regard.
But since I've made it a mission to document what it is that I go through in the way of manic-depression, it becomes my duty to chronicle these past two weeks regarding that realm.
To put it mildly: I've been in Hell. Or at least as close to it as can be had in this quarter of the realms of being.
Suicidal ideations. To some extent, they persist. For more than two weeks my thoughts have been overwhelmed with the desire to be dead. Because in death there is no more hurt, no more grief.
It really began three weeks ago. My medications had begun to lose their potency (a risk with any medication but especially with the treatment of mental illness). My doctor moved me off of a drug I had been on for six years, and substituted that with another: an antidepressant that is very well known and has been used by millions of people since it first hit the market.
It would take a week or so for the full effects to be felt, but it didn't take that long for the benefits to be apparent. And for a few brief days I enjoyed some serenity of being.
But then, about two and a half weeks ago, my thoughts began coming completely unhinged. Became very dark. Very troubled.
Very loaded with despair.
I began to experience a pain which even in all the time since before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, has been excruciating more than any other. It was an overwhelming desire to be dead. To be beyond pain. To never again have all of these hurts.
I prayed for death. I begged God to let me die, if He was listening at all.
The only reason why I didn't go into the hospital is because the thoughts didn't deviate into full-blown actively plotting to do myself in.
But I think that I did try to commit suicide. I'm not sure. I just wanted to be numb to it all, without a care as to how I achieved it. I took an overload of the medication. It did nothing. Nothing at all.
I was desperate to die and I couldn't even do that much.
This is what I've had to go through for the past two weeks. A never-wavering longing to die.
I still want it. I still want to die. Some moments anyway. That's just the medication, which under my doctor's supervision I stopped five days ago. It's still in my system. In the meantime I'm about to begin a new medication.
This had better work. I want it to. People aren't meant to live like this. Living, just to want to die.
I want to hope again. Hope that there is some life still ahead of me, despite manic-depression.
I pray that God will give me some indication that He really is watching over me.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Rest in peace James Horner
It was as many feared when the news came that the airplane he owned had crashed: James Horner, one of the most acclaimed composers in film history, died last night.
Aliens. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Braveheart. Apollo 13. Titanic. Avatar. Glory. Field of Dreams...
And so much other work too. His score for Krull is a classic example of the Eighties-era fantasy genre. If I don't mention his music for The Rocketeer, somebody is going to jump flunky for it. Animation fans will remember that he scored An American Tail.
Since the first of his works that I can remember listening to was his score for the second Star Trek movie, here now is the complete composition for Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Fittingly heroic and triumphant, in remembrance of a life just as much so.
Aliens. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Braveheart. Apollo 13. Titanic. Avatar. Glory. Field of Dreams...
And so much other work too. His score for Krull is a classic example of the Eighties-era fantasy genre. If I don't mention his music for The Rocketeer, somebody is going to jump flunky for it. Animation fans will remember that he scored An American Tail.
Since the first of his works that I can remember listening to was his score for the second Star Trek movie, here now is the complete composition for Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Fittingly heroic and triumphant, in remembrance of a life just as much so.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Here's a photo of a Dachshund family
My favorite breed...
Maybe if Tammy the Pup will stand still long enough, I can get her to pose for a picture that sweet :-)
Photo credit goes to @TheDoxieteers (Cindy, Pepsi and Misty) on Instagram.
Maybe if Tammy the Pup will stand still long enough, I can get her to pose for a picture that sweet :-)
Photo credit goes to @TheDoxieteers (Cindy, Pepsi and Misty) on Instagram.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
"We're gonna need a bigger boat."
Happy anniversary to Jaws. The original blockbuster that set the scene for every big summer movie to come. Released 40 years ago today.
Reconsidering Hobbits
When he came to visit in early April, my longtime friend/collaborator/partner in crime "Weird" Ed Woody gave me a birthday present. It was The Lord of the Rings, Extended Edition on Blu-ray. It's been sitting unopened on my shelf ever since, 'cuz I haven't really availed myself of its beauty (I hadn't actually watched any of it by that point but having seen the DVD version I could readily imagine how splendorous the Blu-ray would be).
Yesterday I finally cracked it open from the shrink wrap. I was working on the book and needed something for background noise. So I popped in Disc 1 of The Fellowship of the Ring. Every now and then I'd turn to look at the screen and be astounded at the beauty of the film, but mostly I was just listening to it for inspiration as I stared at MS Word open before me.
It wasn't long before the movie was at Bilbo's birthday party. I've always loved this scene ("I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve"). And then Bilbo slyly puts on the Ring and vanishes and forevermore becomes a Shire legend.
Then we see him in his home, and Gandalf is asking him about "this ring of yours". Bilbo had intended to part with it, to bequeath it to Frodo. But he finds that he cannot abandon it. His eyes look at it lustfully in a way they never have before. He holds it greedily in his fingers, calling it his "precious", just as Gollum did so many decades earlier. We see that Bilbo is attached to the Ring. That he cannot make himself lose his grasp of it, no matter what it is costing him in terms of his spiritual health (his earlier comment about feeling like he's butter scraped over too much bread).
It was like J.R.R. Tolkien was communicating something personally to me, through Peter Jackson's adaptation of his masterpiece.
Because I, too, have had the One Ring. I have had many such rings throughout the course of my life. And each one, I have held onto beyond any real sense. What can I say? It's one of my character flaws: I have a hard time letting go of things... and especially the past. And that is what they have collectively been: the One Ring in my possession, but really possessing me. Keeping me stalled. Holding me down. Seizing my mind and my spirit and to an extent my soul.
Like Gollum and the Ring, I both love and hate these things. I am too enamored by them.
But in the end, we see Bilbo do something that as Gandalf says in the book, is the only time in the Ring's long history that someone has done such a thing: Bilbo lets the Ring drop from the palm of his hand and onto the floor. He lets go of the Ring. He lets go of the thing that has held him in its grasp ever since he found it (or was found by it) in Gollum's cave. He surrenders his control of the Ring and in doing so, he forces the Ring to surrender its control over him.
It hit me hard. It was Tolkien telling me that I have a ring of my own, and it is destroying me. I have my own One Ring and it is draining me. It is a bane, not a boon. It was Tolkien telling me that I must let go and let it fall to the ground and never think or speak of it again. That it is not worth being controlled by it. That like Bilbo, it was spreading me too thin, instead of enjoying life to its fullest.
I wish that it was as easy as having a physical ring to slip off of my palm and onto the floor of my living room, but it's not. In this, I ask for prayer that my resolve holds true, and that I not be tempted to pick up the ring ever again.
Bilbo lets go of the Ring. The next thing we see, his heart is merry and he goes off into the night, onto the road that will take him to distant Rivendell and his much-anticipated rest. He goes off to see the world, to see the mountains and the Elves and the Dwarves. He has lost the Ring, now the Ring has lost utterly.
I wish it were as simple as that. Bilbo was lucky, that the Ring was such a tangible item.
I wish that I could be like Bilbo.
I wish that I was a Hobbit.
To have a life of peace, only setting off on an adventure if one felt like it (though it will be thought of as queer by the neighbors). A life full of cheer and contentment. A life with friendships that won't be lost. As well as all that beer and pipeweed, but I digress...
Hobbits don't have to worry about the things that we do. And manic-depression probably doesn't exist among them. That alone, makes me envy them.
One can learn a lot from Hobbits. And I think, in this case, I learned a lot.
Yesterday I finally cracked it open from the shrink wrap. I was working on the book and needed something for background noise. So I popped in Disc 1 of The Fellowship of the Ring. Every now and then I'd turn to look at the screen and be astounded at the beauty of the film, but mostly I was just listening to it for inspiration as I stared at MS Word open before me.
It wasn't long before the movie was at Bilbo's birthday party. I've always loved this scene ("I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve"). And then Bilbo slyly puts on the Ring and vanishes and forevermore becomes a Shire legend.
Then we see him in his home, and Gandalf is asking him about "this ring of yours". Bilbo had intended to part with it, to bequeath it to Frodo. But he finds that he cannot abandon it. His eyes look at it lustfully in a way they never have before. He holds it greedily in his fingers, calling it his "precious", just as Gollum did so many decades earlier. We see that Bilbo is attached to the Ring. That he cannot make himself lose his grasp of it, no matter what it is costing him in terms of his spiritual health (his earlier comment about feeling like he's butter scraped over too much bread).
It was like J.R.R. Tolkien was communicating something personally to me, through Peter Jackson's adaptation of his masterpiece.
Because I, too, have had the One Ring. I have had many such rings throughout the course of my life. And each one, I have held onto beyond any real sense. What can I say? It's one of my character flaws: I have a hard time letting go of things... and especially the past. And that is what they have collectively been: the One Ring in my possession, but really possessing me. Keeping me stalled. Holding me down. Seizing my mind and my spirit and to an extent my soul.
Like Gollum and the Ring, I both love and hate these things. I am too enamored by them.
But in the end, we see Bilbo do something that as Gandalf says in the book, is the only time in the Ring's long history that someone has done such a thing: Bilbo lets the Ring drop from the palm of his hand and onto the floor. He lets go of the Ring. He lets go of the thing that has held him in its grasp ever since he found it (or was found by it) in Gollum's cave. He surrenders his control of the Ring and in doing so, he forces the Ring to surrender its control over him.
It hit me hard. It was Tolkien telling me that I have a ring of my own, and it is destroying me. I have my own One Ring and it is draining me. It is a bane, not a boon. It was Tolkien telling me that I must let go and let it fall to the ground and never think or speak of it again. That it is not worth being controlled by it. That like Bilbo, it was spreading me too thin, instead of enjoying life to its fullest.
I wish that it was as easy as having a physical ring to slip off of my palm and onto the floor of my living room, but it's not. In this, I ask for prayer that my resolve holds true, and that I not be tempted to pick up the ring ever again.
Bilbo lets go of the Ring. The next thing we see, his heart is merry and he goes off into the night, onto the road that will take him to distant Rivendell and his much-anticipated rest. He goes off to see the world, to see the mountains and the Elves and the Dwarves. He has lost the Ring, now the Ring has lost utterly.
I wish it were as simple as that. Bilbo was lucky, that the Ring was such a tangible item.
I wish that I could be like Bilbo.
I wish that I was a Hobbit.
To have a life of peace, only setting off on an adventure if one felt like it (though it will be thought of as queer by the neighbors). A life full of cheer and contentment. A life with friendships that won't be lost. As well as all that beer and pipeweed, but I digress...
Hobbits don't have to worry about the things that we do. And manic-depression probably doesn't exist among them. That alone, makes me envy them.
One can learn a lot from Hobbits. And I think, in this case, I learned a lot.
