I first started getting into photography when I was in Graduate School. I had gone home for Christmas break, during which I had bought myself my first digital camera. It was 1.3 Mega-pixels, (which at the time was a half-decent resolution) and I barely knew anything about it.
My only experience with taking photos was earlier failed attempts with a “regular” camera, using actual film. Rarely did those pictures even come out... at all. It was pretty frustrating to take a few rolls worth of pictures, send them in for developing, spending 5 bucks or more per roll, waiting a few days for developing, making a trip to the store to pick them up… only to find that just about all of them were too dark, too fuzzy… and totally incomprehensible. When I figured I’d be in events or situations that I wanted to take pictures, I bought a few disposable cameras, and hoped for the best.
So, I was pretty happy to get a digital. You can see right away how the pictures come out, and if they suck… you can instantly delete. Plus, they hold a LOT more than regular cameras, and no film to change. If I wanted a hard copy… you can even get prints of them at the store. (And eventually, even print them out myself) In the long run… they would be a lot cheaper… so, on a practical level alone, it seemed worth it.
Wanting to get my money’s worth, I carried it around a lot. Just threw it in my bag, and if a sudden Kodak moment showed up, I’d be ready… (even though it wasn’t a Kodak). People noticed I had it… and for some reason, everyone assumed I knew how to USE it. Not many people had digital cameras (it was still in its relative infancy in the market), and since I was in the Theatre Department… I got requests. Some of the directors doing the small tiny one-act plays were asking me if I could take pictures of their shows, so they could have them for their own portfolios. Or if the Film Majors needed a photographic prop for their film, they came to me. These were all people I liked, so naturally, I’m going to accommodate and help them however I can. So I found myself, several times, being the “show photographer”… sometimes even listed in the program as such. (I considered it an unnecessary credit… but they wanted to put me in there.) When I actually found myself taking archive photos of the large-scale, highly-funded official Department Musical… I looked at my tiny, low-end 1.3 Mega-pixel camera and thought, “How the hell did THIS happen?”
But everyone seemed to like the photos I took. Granted, I knew nothing about lighting, or shutter speed or anything that “real” photographers use to get the “perfect picture”… but hey, if the customer is happy, right? And it’s not like I didn’t learn anything. I did figure some things out… like the darker the room, the brighter the picture would end up being. (The shutter has to stay open longer to absorb the little available light… and usually absorbs too much, hence… brighter picture.) Plus, my camera did have a neat feature… panoramic pictures. Not *real* panoramic pictures… but rather it would take up to 5 photos and stitch them together, so you had to make sure you lined them up right from shot to shot. It was neat to take a picture of someone, have them move a few feet to the side, take another picture… and stitch them together so there’s two of the same person in the same picture.
Plus, once I got the pictures onto my computer, I could play with them even more. I guess the word would be “photoshopping”… but I never actually had Adobe Photoshop. Rather I had the really cheap program that came with the camera… but I got by nicely. My favorite thing was (and still is) to add captions or “word bubbles” above people… mainly to give myself a laugh (and I think occasionally other people find it so). That’s why I love the “candid shots” more then the “oh-there’s-a-camera-let’s-pose shots”. There are more possibilities with the split-second looks on people’s faces which can be drastically misinterpreted from the original context. (That cracks me up)
Once Grad School ended, I figured that was the end of my Photo career. I had no training, very little knowledge… and the camera is not the kind of Pro equipment one would need. Honestly… my heart was not broken. It was such a small part of my life… a minor hobby, really… that I barely thought of it.
Then, when I was living down in Los Angeles, I got involved in a weekly ongoing monologue show. The subject of all the monologues were sex and relationships… so it was considered an “adult-content-show” even though there was no nudity or anything like that. Now, all the actors were supposed to have their own poster… in a town full of actors, everyone wants to promote themselves… it made sense to have it like that. So after my first night of performing, the director mentioned that we needed our own posters, and she would call the photographer that did the last batch… and I noticed she didn’t seem too happy to pay the guy again for more pics. Well… I saw the last batch of posters… I didn’t think they were that great, frankly. Not to be elitist or judgmental… but for a show talking about sex, the posters weren’t very sexy.
I raised my hand. “You know… I have a digital camera. I know it’s not much, but if you’d like… I’ll take the pictures. No need to pay some guy for it.” I mean, this was a no-budget off-off-off-off-off-off-off-broadway theatre show… let’s pinch pennies where we can. I had no problem helping to promote a show I was a part of. (Call it a vested interest) She emphatically took me up on it. This way, I could make appointments with each person individually, take as much time as we want (so you’re not shuffling people one after another just to get the job done and over with in one sitting), I’ll put the text on at home on my computer… e-mail the finished product to the individual… they can print it out and make as many copies as they want… voila. Cheap show posters.
When I got together with each person… I gave each person the exact same spiel:
“Okay… just so you know: I’m NOT a professional photographer. I’m just ‘the guy with the camera.’ I have no interest in asking you to do anything you’re not comfortable with… frankly, I’m making this up as I go. So, if you have ANY ideas about what YOU want for YOUR poster… please, let me know. Cause I need the help.”
Everyone seemed to respond favorably to that. Some of the women that didn’t know me from Adam had brought along their large, karate-expert boyfriends because they didn’t want some “creep asking them to take their pants off”. They would later tell me that they thought I was a total sweetheart, and thanked me for being so respectful. Some even said they considered me more professional than most photographers they worked with. And everyone was happy with their posters.
(And yes, there is a poster of me… half-naked with a white sheet draped over my shoulder. One of the actresses took the picture for me. No, you can’t see it.)
No, I never asked them to take their pants off… though some did it anyway. (Only in L.A…) Since we only had to “imply” nudity under the sheet… that did give some leeway. Plus, when I looked at the “last batch” by the guy who got paid for it… they were all from the same level and angle. Almost like he just set up a tripod and lined people up, took one picture and moved onto the next.
I tried to give a little variety. I tried from lower angles, higher angles… tilting the camera a bit. Played around with them sitting or standing… anything but the same angle and level… all the while trying to leave room on the side for the titles and show info to go on. I didn’t want any words or info overlapping the actor… I figured that would be bad. They’re not the background of the picture… they ARE the picture.
After I took all the pictures, I went home, chose maybe 10 of what I thought were the best ones, e-mailed them to the performer, who would make the final decision. (Like I said… it was THEIR poster, so they should have that right.) Then I make the final poster, and when I saw them at the next show… I brought a burned CD with the finished poster and every picture I took of them. I know a lot of professional photographers actually claim legal “ownership” of the pictures they take… but what the hell was I gonna do with them? I think the subject of the photo has every right to know and control where that picture is seen. Sure, I kept copies for my archives… but they never have, nor ever will be released to be used by anyone else.
Like I said, people were happy with the photos and posters… which was a nice compliment for me, I thought. But I was getting bored… with the SAME corner inside of the SAME building, and everyone wearing the SAME white sheet. There’s only so much variety I can get with that situation. So, without telling the director… the next person that joined the show and needed a poster (it was a rotating cast… I was one of the few that was with it for so long)… said, “Yeah, I think I’m supposed to be wearing a sheet or something, right?” I replied… “*Actually*… I’d like to try something different…”
We got the hell away from that corner. I asked the performer to pick out a few of her/his own outfits… ones that they felt Sexy in. Not ones that other people said were sexy… but ones they FELT comfortable in and FELT Sexy in. (Big difference) Some women would come in black cocktail dresses, or a business-type outfit, or an artsy-kind of getup, or PJs, or even just jeans and a t-shirt. (Most of the guys came in jeans and a t-shirt… go figure.) But that’s what they felt sexy and comfortable in… (and I think “comfortable” is always sexier anyway). And some would come to my apartment, or I’d meet them elsewhere… anywhere but that damn blue corner. We tried different places, different outfits… different ideas. Now that we had more options… we came up with a lot more ideas for each shoot.
I quickly became very surprised at what I could get people to do when I had a camera. Having one guy stand in my shower, fully clothed, with water streaming all over him, soaking him and his clothes to the bone, and me snapping pictures… Again, I thought, “How the hell did THIS happen?”
And I really liked how the pictures came out. They looked sexier than the ones before… and they even had more clothing than the sheet. (Funny how that works, huh?) When the final picture was selected and the poster made up… it was shown to the director. Who loved it. Finally! I was away from the white sheet and that blue corner… and allowed to do whatever I want.
Plus, I started getting a little money. I started asking for about $5- $10 to help cover the cost of making the posters (really for the ink and paper from the computer)… everyone gave me at least that with no problem… quite a few actually gave me more. One women handed me $50… and when I told her I didn’t have change, she said, “I didn’t ask for change.” (That helped with groceries that week)
Wow… I was technically getting paid for making sexy pictures of people... with my low-end crappy 1.3 Mega-pixel camera. (As the technology got better and cheaper, the more adjectives I added to describe that thing.) Kick ass.
One night, after a show… a guy not much older than me had seen the show, and asked me, “Hey, who took the pictures of the posters that are outside?” (I signed them all… “Photo by Victor Riley”, adding to the history of not using my real name.) I told them, “Actually… it was me. The name on there is a pen name.” Then, this guy told me about a project he was doing… he had made an adult board game version of “Spin the Bottle”… with drinking rules and everything. He had a prototype, and needed some photos taken for the website and promotional stuff… he asked me if I was interested.
I had to tell him… “Uh… just so you know… I’m NOT a professional in the least. And the camera is NOT a high-quality camera. It’s just this little crappy thing that’s getting us by.” (I believe in letting people know exactly what they’re getting.)
He said, “Well, you bring your crappy little camera… and make some money.”
About 2 weeks later, I was in this guy’s apartment… with 2 attractive young women he hired for models… taking playful/suggestive/sexy pictures of them next to and playing with this adult-themed board game.
When the guy’s business partner was standing next to me, looking into the camera’s viewscreen with me… and whispering to himself, “Oh Baby…yes yes yes…” Admittedly, I was a little creeped out… and once again said to myself, “How the hell did THIS happen?”
Only in freaking L.A.
But apparently, I was good at making people look sexy. Even fully clothed. I think me doing all this with the other actors inspired my girlfriend-at-the-time to suggest that we “take some pictures” of our own. You’re not getting details… that’s a little *too* personal… but suffice to say , these were not going to be seen on any poster to advertise the show. I did make an effort to make them look more artistic rather than pornographic… and I thought we did that nicely. I even experimented with shadows and silhouettes… and suffice to say (again), we had fun. When we broke up… I looked at the CD we had the pictures on, the only copies of them, and gave them to her. I figured they were taken in a state of trust in our relationship. Now that it was over, the only way to honor that trust was if SHE had the only copies of the pictures. I don’t know if she realized I was giving her the sole copies… but that’s what I did.
(I did tell some friends later that I actually kept another copy of them… but I really didn’t. I said that to try and make myself feel better, like I still had some kind of advantage or something. Going further will get into a subject I don’t care to devote time to anymore. Anyway… yeah, I’m a lying liar who lies.)
I did actually get some requests from friends… ones who weren’t connected to that monologue show… “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you… could you take some pictures like that of *me*?” (They were implying the “fully-clothed-sexy” ones of the show posters, not like the private ones that they didn’t know about.) I did mentally kick around ideas of some things I’d have liked to have done, picture-wise… but I never did get around to shooting photos for any of them. But it was a nice compliment that they thought I’d do good at making them look sexy.
When I got back to the East Coast… my brother gave me his old digital camera. It was only a few years old… is about 5 mega-pixels, has a great lens… and is a MUCH higher quality that my little 1.3. Looking at it… if I had THIS camera in L.A… I would have felt more confident about actually pursuing more paying options with it. At the time he got it (he won it from work), it was worth over $1,000. Nowadays, there are more powerful cameras that are cheaper… but it’s still a very nice camera.
Most of my pictures these days are of the “candid” variety… (because I love putting those word balloons in)… or more landscape-type pictures. I’m a sucker for good scenery. My new letterboxing hobby helps me with that. I take pictures of the different places I go and hikes I do, and put them in my logbook. It keeps me snapping pictures, and makes my logbook more interesting to look at.
That’s my photo career as it is today. Back to being a nice hobby rather than a pseudo part-time (not even “part”… more like “fraction-time and low-paying-but-interesting”) career.
But you know… while I’m usually behind the camera, rather than in front of it… that does me just fine. Because picture composition is pretty interesting to me… and whether I’m taking photos of models or scenery, I have fun with it. Who knows… maybe in the future, I’ll once again be put into a photographic situation where I’m saying:
“How the hell did THIS happen?”
Cause at the very least… it’ll be a lot of fun.
Showing posts with label hobby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hobby. Show all posts
9.12.2008
7.25.2008
Talk Nerdy to Me
As you may know… I’m a proud Geek.
(I’ve also been told, in a loving fashion, I’m a Nerd. And I’ve also heard that I’m “a Dork… but in a good way!”)
That wasn’t always used as a badge of honor, though. When you’re young, awkward, and just wanting to be liked… and people are saying it with a sneer in their voice and a condescending look in their eye… you’d prefer to be anything BUT a Geek. Because then it sounds synonymous with Outcast, Aberration, Unliked, Unwanted, “Oh-My-God-Just-Go-Away-You-Pathetic-Piece-of-Nothing”, and so much else.
It’s hard to comprehend exactly WHY that is. Being a Geek is a trait connected to the attribute of Intelligence… and we are really the only species on this planet that actually *uses* our Intelligence to the degree we can. Our brains are larger, more defined than other animals… we have short-term and long-term memories, we can use reason and logic, we have a sense of morality… and it’s because of our brains and those functions, that enable us to live and adapt to almost ANY environment that we can encounter. As such, we are not slaves to Mother Nature, and can actually exist despite some of her harsher efforts.
It is an incredible achievement of Evolution, God, Fate, Luck, Buddha, or whatever you believe in… that we *can actually BE a Geek*. (Whoever is responsible… they done good!)
So, it’s odd that amazing achievement singles out some people over others… and not in a good way.
Don’t forget or ignore the fact that every human being on this planet can (and does) find pleasure solely in the acquisition of new knowledge.
That’s right… *everyone* has fun with facts. It’s obvious that when you meet someone that really likes Science Fiction or Film History… they’re going to know a lot about it. They’ll probably have a few hundred facts that you won’t give a damn about.
But exactly how different is it from the tough, jersey-wearing sports fan that knows all the names of all the players on his favorite football team? (Even the 4th stringers!) Or who’s leading the league in touchdown passes… or knows about all the college players that are up for the annual draft… AND has opinions on how they’ll adjust to the big leagues? Guess what? They got themselves a bunch of facts, numbers and statistics that the majority of the world doesn’t give a flying freeball about.
Or what about the person that spouts off memorized book and passage numbers from the Bible?
Or the Golf enthusiast who knows par for every hole and every course that Tiger Woods is playing on?
Or the guy that knows the name of every Playboy Playmate of every month from 1983 to today? (Actually… that one’s kinda creepy)
Or the tough-talking, tattooed grease-monkey mechanic that “knows everything about engines and cars”?
Or the gal that knows all the plotlines and episodes of Friends?
Are we allowed to get in a group and point at them, yelling:
“NNNNNEEEEEERRRRRRDDDDDD!!!!!!!!”?
What makes some subjects more “socially acceptable” than others? In America, someone who’s a fan of Doctor Who is considered a Nerd and a Geek, and maybe a bit shunned for being “weird”. Yet in several other countries around the world… the show (old version and new) is wildly popular. I hear Steven Spielberg himself, arguably the greatest filmmaker of the last 35 years, is a fan of Doctor Who. Would you call him a Nerd to his face? Or does the fact that he can buy and sell you 900 times over give him some leeway? Hell, I’ve seen intelligent, incredibly Hot women tell me how hooked they are on World of Warcraft.
We’re all Geeks. It just depends on exactly what you’re a Geek about. There is a subject that you know a lot about, that other people don’t (and don’t even care about)… but you derive a lot of pleasure from it. Doesn’t matter what it is… but that’s what you’re a Geek about. Even if your knowledge in it is limited… the pursuit of that activity/show/subject is enough to get your Geek on. I say… Embrace it. It’s healthy… it gives us an escape… a pleasurable option in life to relax within.
Me… I’ve got plenty of Geek to go around.
The aforementioned Doctor Who… I’m a fan. I watched the old series a little as a kid, but I was given a more thorough introduction in college… and I find it immensely fun. My favorite of “The Doctors” is Tom Baker… he had the big curly hair and the 13-foot long scarf. Sure, the acting wasn’t the best… but they were earnest, and had fun. Yeah, the sets wobbled… but the whole show has a “charm” to it… that just makes it endlessly watchable to me.
As for the new series… some of the best writing and effects I have ever seen on television. It’s absolutely genius!
Star Wars… I’ve talked about before. Admittedly, my enthusiasm for it has dropped off a bit… because sadly, the story *didn’t* end with the 6th movie… No, George Lucas is continually beating a dead horse… insisting there’s still milk in that teat. Cripes on Toast, man… just let it die! But the originals are just so great…
Harry Potter… I didn’t get into it until after the fourth book came out… and just before the first movie. It was my Graduate advisor, of all people, insisting that I read them… and once I did… I was hooked. Those books are like crack! I read the first four straight in a row. I ordered the fifth book, got it when it came out… but didn’t read it for about a month or two. Sixth and seventh books… read them the days they came out. I revel in most any opportunity to talk about and dissect that story… and my favorite character is actually Neville Longbottom… I was so glad he got to shine in the last book! (It’s not that much… but enough. He kicked ass! Hells yeah!)
Horror… well, I’ve also talked about this before. It still applies… I love it, but most of it sucks.
Science Fiction… a lot like Horror… there’s a lot of crap out there. But when it’s good… it’s brilliant! (And there’s quite of bit of underrated stuff out there) What makes most of it crap… is that the stuff they call science fiction, *isn’t really* Science Fiction. I may have to do a whole post on this sometime.
Theatre… probably my first official Geek label. It was really the first thing I found that got me on my way to actually finding an identity for myself… and even so, I think I’m a bit of an anomalous freak amongst Theatre Folk. For one: A lot are touchy-feely, and say, “I’m in Theatre, I don’t have a personal bubble”… but I do. I’ve been told several times over the years that I’m “not a typical theatre person”… whether they meant it as a compliment or insult, I’m not always sure. And while I usually know what I’m talking about… as I’ve been studying it about half my life, and even taught it for awhile… there’s STILL a lot I don’t know. (Musicals for one… I’m not *that* learned in.)
Movies… while I attain that I’m not a “film buff”… I do know what I like, and like to see it often... and I have opinions on it. When I worked on the fringes of the industry, and trying to get into it… I did learn a lot, and was exposed to a lot of older movies and shows that I wasn’t previously aware of. And whenever I watch a movie or a new show… usually right after, I hop on IMDB or Wikipedia and look up any trivia or notes they have about it… just to find out more about it. Hmmm… maybe that *would* make me a film buff… I just think that’s a silly title.
Graphic Novels… This is kind of intersecting with movies, these days. Normally referred to as “comics”… but I think this is more accurate. I haven’t collected actual comic books in several years… I wait until they collect several issues together and throw them in a trade paperback, otherwise known as “graphic novels”. Sure, maybe it’s a little more expensive… but I get a complete story… with a beginning, middle and end. And there’s no chance of missing a middle part of the story, by having that chapter sell out before I can get to it. Plus, there are a lot of stories made FOR the graphic novel format… and there’s nothing “comic” about them. There are a lot of darker, more adult-style stories out there. Hell, anything written by Alan Moore I’m willing to read… he’s just that good of a writer. Same with Neil Gaiman, Kurt Busiek, and the Granddaddy master: Will Eisner (who is probably responsible for elevating the world of comics to Art).
But at the same time… every now and then, I like to kick back with an old Donald Duck/Uncle Scrooge comic (written by Carl Barks… without him, there would never have been Ducktales). They’re just so much fun!
RPGs… Yep… Role-Playing Games. No, I don’t mean Final Fantasy and World of Warcraft. This is not computer or video games… this is the actual and original meaning of Role-Playing Games… where you actually play a role. You have dice and character sheets, and actually sit around with friends and interact and engage your imagination in ways that video games can’t. It’s more social than computer pixels… and more interesting to me. If you have a problem or an obstacle in a computer game, it can only be solved by doing one of the solutions that has been pre-programmed in by the developers… which is limited, no matter how many options they give you. In a real pen-and-paper RPG… the options are whatever you can imagine. The inventor of the obstacle may actually have no idea HOW you’d get past it… just wants to see you try. It’s basically Co-operative Improvisation Storytelling… and I’m surprised more people in the Theatre/Filmmaking world are not involved in it. (Though it is gaining some credibility these days… as filmmakers and actors like Jon Favreau, Wil Wheaton and Vin Diesel have all talked favorably about their past involvements with the hobby) I actually credit this hobby for having a significant impact on my personal writing and storytelling skills. Don’t knock it till you try it.
And no… I’m not a Satanist, I don’t know how to do Black Magic, nor do I think I’m a Vampire. Sheesh… And for the record, I’ve never gotten lost in Steam Tunnels. (Okay, I have… but NOT for purposes of gaming)
Board Games… Because you wouldn’t put Monopoly in the RPG category, that’s for sure. I have myself a nice collection of board games. Hell, I’ve got almost 10 different versions/variations of the game Clue (my all-time favorite classic board game). Plus several horror-themed ones (perfect to pull out around Halloween)… some collectible games… and still have several games that I’ve owned for awhile, but haven’t had the chance to play yet. Yeah… this probably is the hobby that takes up the most room in my house. Ooch!
And my newest hobby:
Letterboxing… it’s very simple and very cheap to do. Since discovering it a short ways back… I think it’s just the Bee’s Knees… and can’t believe it took me this long to discover it. It’s like Geocaching… only you don’t need a GPS. All you need is a rubber stamp (either buy one, or make your own for cheap), and a logbook. Then you go to this website (www.letterboxing.org), and look for “clues” in your area. You follow the instructions on the clues (they can be very direct or very cryptic… mostly they lead you through public parks and hiking trails), where you eventually find a small box… and inside is ANOTHER rubber stamp and another log book. You use *your* stamp on that logbook… use that stamp on *your* logbook, sign and date it with a little message… and put it all back for the next person to find.
It’s basically a treasure hunt! How cool is that? When I was first told about it… I was intrigued, because I never heard of it before. So, I got a little book… made up a crude rubber stamp… and grabbed a clue off the website… and went to see for myself.
It was right there… just where it said it would be. And this particular one had been there for months. It was so neat… and I couldn’t believe that something like that could be there, and not be vandalized or taken away. I got such a kick out of it… I felt like I was Five! I loved it!
I’ve even made my book a little more elaborate. All you’re really supposed to do is stamp your book, write where you found it, and move on. Me… I’ve been adding photos of the locations and hikes to mine. Making it into a little art project/collage-type-thing… and gets me back doing a little photography. Gives it kind of a “storybook” feel to it… is an easy reminder of the experiences of getting each one… and also makes it easier to illustrate to others what exactly the hell it is I’m doing on my weekends.
More than anything… it’s a great little excuse to go for a hike, and get a little exercise. I think that’s a wonderful byproduct of a “Geek Hobby”. Plus, I’m having fun… so bite me.
So… that’s my Geekness (or at least a good portion of it).
How about you?
What are YOU a Geek about?
(I’ve also been told, in a loving fashion, I’m a Nerd. And I’ve also heard that I’m “a Dork… but in a good way!”)
That wasn’t always used as a badge of honor, though. When you’re young, awkward, and just wanting to be liked… and people are saying it with a sneer in their voice and a condescending look in their eye… you’d prefer to be anything BUT a Geek. Because then it sounds synonymous with Outcast, Aberration, Unliked, Unwanted, “Oh-My-God-Just-Go-Away-You-Pathetic-Piece-of-Nothing”, and so much else.
It’s hard to comprehend exactly WHY that is. Being a Geek is a trait connected to the attribute of Intelligence… and we are really the only species on this planet that actually *uses* our Intelligence to the degree we can. Our brains are larger, more defined than other animals… we have short-term and long-term memories, we can use reason and logic, we have a sense of morality… and it’s because of our brains and those functions, that enable us to live and adapt to almost ANY environment that we can encounter. As such, we are not slaves to Mother Nature, and can actually exist despite some of her harsher efforts.
It is an incredible achievement of Evolution, God, Fate, Luck, Buddha, or whatever you believe in… that we *can actually BE a Geek*. (Whoever is responsible… they done good!)
So, it’s odd that amazing achievement singles out some people over others… and not in a good way.
Don’t forget or ignore the fact that every human being on this planet can (and does) find pleasure solely in the acquisition of new knowledge.
That’s right… *everyone* has fun with facts. It’s obvious that when you meet someone that really likes Science Fiction or Film History… they’re going to know a lot about it. They’ll probably have a few hundred facts that you won’t give a damn about.
But exactly how different is it from the tough, jersey-wearing sports fan that knows all the names of all the players on his favorite football team? (Even the 4th stringers!) Or who’s leading the league in touchdown passes… or knows about all the college players that are up for the annual draft… AND has opinions on how they’ll adjust to the big leagues? Guess what? They got themselves a bunch of facts, numbers and statistics that the majority of the world doesn’t give a flying freeball about.
Or what about the person that spouts off memorized book and passage numbers from the Bible?
Or the Golf enthusiast who knows par for every hole and every course that Tiger Woods is playing on?
Or the guy that knows the name of every Playboy Playmate of every month from 1983 to today? (Actually… that one’s kinda creepy)
Or the tough-talking, tattooed grease-monkey mechanic that “knows everything about engines and cars”?
Or the gal that knows all the plotlines and episodes of Friends?
Are we allowed to get in a group and point at them, yelling:
“NNNNNEEEEEERRRRRRDDDDDD!!!!!!!!”?
What makes some subjects more “socially acceptable” than others? In America, someone who’s a fan of Doctor Who is considered a Nerd and a Geek, and maybe a bit shunned for being “weird”. Yet in several other countries around the world… the show (old version and new) is wildly popular. I hear Steven Spielberg himself, arguably the greatest filmmaker of the last 35 years, is a fan of Doctor Who. Would you call him a Nerd to his face? Or does the fact that he can buy and sell you 900 times over give him some leeway? Hell, I’ve seen intelligent, incredibly Hot women tell me how hooked they are on World of Warcraft.
We’re all Geeks. It just depends on exactly what you’re a Geek about. There is a subject that you know a lot about, that other people don’t (and don’t even care about)… but you derive a lot of pleasure from it. Doesn’t matter what it is… but that’s what you’re a Geek about. Even if your knowledge in it is limited… the pursuit of that activity/show/subject is enough to get your Geek on. I say… Embrace it. It’s healthy… it gives us an escape… a pleasurable option in life to relax within.
Me… I’ve got plenty of Geek to go around.
The aforementioned Doctor Who… I’m a fan. I watched the old series a little as a kid, but I was given a more thorough introduction in college… and I find it immensely fun. My favorite of “The Doctors” is Tom Baker… he had the big curly hair and the 13-foot long scarf. Sure, the acting wasn’t the best… but they were earnest, and had fun. Yeah, the sets wobbled… but the whole show has a “charm” to it… that just makes it endlessly watchable to me.
As for the new series… some of the best writing and effects I have ever seen on television. It’s absolutely genius!
Star Wars… I’ve talked about before. Admittedly, my enthusiasm for it has dropped off a bit… because sadly, the story *didn’t* end with the 6th movie… No, George Lucas is continually beating a dead horse… insisting there’s still milk in that teat. Cripes on Toast, man… just let it die! But the originals are just so great…
Harry Potter… I didn’t get into it until after the fourth book came out… and just before the first movie. It was my Graduate advisor, of all people, insisting that I read them… and once I did… I was hooked. Those books are like crack! I read the first four straight in a row. I ordered the fifth book, got it when it came out… but didn’t read it for about a month or two. Sixth and seventh books… read them the days they came out. I revel in most any opportunity to talk about and dissect that story… and my favorite character is actually Neville Longbottom… I was so glad he got to shine in the last book! (It’s not that much… but enough. He kicked ass! Hells yeah!)
Horror… well, I’ve also talked about this before. It still applies… I love it, but most of it sucks.
Science Fiction… a lot like Horror… there’s a lot of crap out there. But when it’s good… it’s brilliant! (And there’s quite of bit of underrated stuff out there) What makes most of it crap… is that the stuff they call science fiction, *isn’t really* Science Fiction. I may have to do a whole post on this sometime.
Theatre… probably my first official Geek label. It was really the first thing I found that got me on my way to actually finding an identity for myself… and even so, I think I’m a bit of an anomalous freak amongst Theatre Folk. For one: A lot are touchy-feely, and say, “I’m in Theatre, I don’t have a personal bubble”… but I do. I’ve been told several times over the years that I’m “not a typical theatre person”… whether they meant it as a compliment or insult, I’m not always sure. And while I usually know what I’m talking about… as I’ve been studying it about half my life, and even taught it for awhile… there’s STILL a lot I don’t know. (Musicals for one… I’m not *that* learned in.)
Movies… while I attain that I’m not a “film buff”… I do know what I like, and like to see it often... and I have opinions on it. When I worked on the fringes of the industry, and trying to get into it… I did learn a lot, and was exposed to a lot of older movies and shows that I wasn’t previously aware of. And whenever I watch a movie or a new show… usually right after, I hop on IMDB or Wikipedia and look up any trivia or notes they have about it… just to find out more about it. Hmmm… maybe that *would* make me a film buff… I just think that’s a silly title.
Graphic Novels… This is kind of intersecting with movies, these days. Normally referred to as “comics”… but I think this is more accurate. I haven’t collected actual comic books in several years… I wait until they collect several issues together and throw them in a trade paperback, otherwise known as “graphic novels”. Sure, maybe it’s a little more expensive… but I get a complete story… with a beginning, middle and end. And there’s no chance of missing a middle part of the story, by having that chapter sell out before I can get to it. Plus, there are a lot of stories made FOR the graphic novel format… and there’s nothing “comic” about them. There are a lot of darker, more adult-style stories out there. Hell, anything written by Alan Moore I’m willing to read… he’s just that good of a writer. Same with Neil Gaiman, Kurt Busiek, and the Granddaddy master: Will Eisner (who is probably responsible for elevating the world of comics to Art).
But at the same time… every now and then, I like to kick back with an old Donald Duck/Uncle Scrooge comic (written by Carl Barks… without him, there would never have been Ducktales). They’re just so much fun!
RPGs… Yep… Role-Playing Games. No, I don’t mean Final Fantasy and World of Warcraft. This is not computer or video games… this is the actual and original meaning of Role-Playing Games… where you actually play a role. You have dice and character sheets, and actually sit around with friends and interact and engage your imagination in ways that video games can’t. It’s more social than computer pixels… and more interesting to me. If you have a problem or an obstacle in a computer game, it can only be solved by doing one of the solutions that has been pre-programmed in by the developers… which is limited, no matter how many options they give you. In a real pen-and-paper RPG… the options are whatever you can imagine. The inventor of the obstacle may actually have no idea HOW you’d get past it… just wants to see you try. It’s basically Co-operative Improvisation Storytelling… and I’m surprised more people in the Theatre/Filmmaking world are not involved in it. (Though it is gaining some credibility these days… as filmmakers and actors like Jon Favreau, Wil Wheaton and Vin Diesel have all talked favorably about their past involvements with the hobby) I actually credit this hobby for having a significant impact on my personal writing and storytelling skills. Don’t knock it till you try it.
And no… I’m not a Satanist, I don’t know how to do Black Magic, nor do I think I’m a Vampire. Sheesh… And for the record, I’ve never gotten lost in Steam Tunnels. (Okay, I have… but NOT for purposes of gaming)
Board Games… Because you wouldn’t put Monopoly in the RPG category, that’s for sure. I have myself a nice collection of board games. Hell, I’ve got almost 10 different versions/variations of the game Clue (my all-time favorite classic board game). Plus several horror-themed ones (perfect to pull out around Halloween)… some collectible games… and still have several games that I’ve owned for awhile, but haven’t had the chance to play yet. Yeah… this probably is the hobby that takes up the most room in my house. Ooch!
And my newest hobby:
Letterboxing… it’s very simple and very cheap to do. Since discovering it a short ways back… I think it’s just the Bee’s Knees… and can’t believe it took me this long to discover it. It’s like Geocaching… only you don’t need a GPS. All you need is a rubber stamp (either buy one, or make your own for cheap), and a logbook. Then you go to this website (www.letterboxing.org), and look for “clues” in your area. You follow the instructions on the clues (they can be very direct or very cryptic… mostly they lead you through public parks and hiking trails), where you eventually find a small box… and inside is ANOTHER rubber stamp and another log book. You use *your* stamp on that logbook… use that stamp on *your* logbook, sign and date it with a little message… and put it all back for the next person to find.
It’s basically a treasure hunt! How cool is that? When I was first told about it… I was intrigued, because I never heard of it before. So, I got a little book… made up a crude rubber stamp… and grabbed a clue off the website… and went to see for myself.
It was right there… just where it said it would be. And this particular one had been there for months. It was so neat… and I couldn’t believe that something like that could be there, and not be vandalized or taken away. I got such a kick out of it… I felt like I was Five! I loved it!
I’ve even made my book a little more elaborate. All you’re really supposed to do is stamp your book, write where you found it, and move on. Me… I’ve been adding photos of the locations and hikes to mine. Making it into a little art project/collage-type-thing… and gets me back doing a little photography. Gives it kind of a “storybook” feel to it… is an easy reminder of the experiences of getting each one… and also makes it easier to illustrate to others what exactly the hell it is I’m doing on my weekends.
More than anything… it’s a great little excuse to go for a hike, and get a little exercise. I think that’s a wonderful byproduct of a “Geek Hobby”. Plus, I’m having fun… so bite me.
So… that’s my Geekness (or at least a good portion of it).
How about you?
What are YOU a Geek about?
6.27.2008
Book Me!
Suggestion by fritz.
I’m an avid reader… who doesn’t read that much.
That’s the fantasy as compared to the reality.
I love books… always have. I just don’t actually sit down and do a lot of reading. Maybe the more accurate term for me would be “book lover”… because the words don’t actually imply the act of reading.
Yeah, I like that. That’s what I’ll go with:
I’m a book lover.
You know that silly crap they spew about books being “doorways to another world” and other magical metaphoric terms? Yeah… I buy into that 100%. To me, that’s not crap.
It is one of my long-term dreams to have a library in my house… and not just a small room to keep my books on a couple of makeshift shelves. I’m talking a full-on, two-story LIBRARY… with high shelves in which you need to climb a rolling ladder that’s permanently attached… with a balcony section with even more shelves up there, all filled to the brim with books.
And hardcover… lots of hardcover books. Sure, there’s no difference in content between the hardcover versions and paperback copies… but having a hardcover version just seems… I don’t know… more permanent… longer-lasting than a softcover. If I find a book series I really like… I’ll try to find it in hardcover. That’s what I did with Lord of the Rings… I wanted a really nice, classy, hardcover set that didn’t have pictures or references to the movies on them (even though I love the movies, I always find it cheesy to have “now a major motion picture” permanently printed on it). I even got the hardcover, complete collection of Calvin & Hobbes… even though it probably would have been cheaper to get the few remaining paperback collections I was missing. Hardcover is just… better. That’s why I like it when I find the inexpensive copies of old stories… like a collection of H.G. Wells stories, Thoreau’s Walden, or short-story collections. I even have nice little hardcover versions of the 2 original Winnie-the-Pooh books. Opening a solid cover, as opposed to a paper one, really feels more like “opening a door to another world” (I told you I buy into that 100%).
Too bad I acquire more books than I actually get around to reading…
The earliest book I remember reading and loving was The Little Bear books. There were only three of them (that I remember)… and one of them had him flying to the moon, another had him having a birthday party with his other little animal friends (because… well, he was a bear. A little one.), but I don’t recall the plot of the third one. I remember about 7 years ago, I was walking through a bookstore (as I was often want to do) and saw The Collected Little Bear… which was ALL three of those original books, bound together, and it was even hardcover. It had the one where he went to the moon… the one with his birthday party… and I still can’t recall the third one. *shrug* Needless to say, I made the impulse buy right then and there… because that’s one of those books that I wanted to definitely have for MY kids one day (when and if I should have them). Now I do (somewhere… I just have to remember where I stored it).
I remember doing a lot of reading in Middle School… probably because I wasn’t doing too much else, social-wise. That was the time I discovered John Bellairs… who I would probably consider to be one of my all-time favorite authors, solely because I enjoyed his books so much at that age. He wrote in the “Junior Readers” category… so you’d most likely find his books in the kids section… but they were SPOOKY. I’m talking these things had atmosphere to spare… creepy old houses, cobwebs, dark corridors, secret passages, old dormant mysteries, scary figures lurking about… if those books were written and reviewed today, I don’t think they’d have been put in the kid’s section… (but only because people are too damned sensitive these days.) The first book of his I ever picked up was A Figure in the Shadows, which was actually the second book in a trilogy that featured the same characters. I used it for a book report… and I thought it was absolutely fantastic! I went and found the other books… The House With a Clock in Its Walls, and The Letter, The Witch and the Ring… and enjoyed them just as much. Then I collected the Anthony Monday mysteries, and the Johnny Dixon mysteries… all characters of John Bellairs, and all had that same style of atmosphere. Even after I reached adulthood (an arguable statement, I know), I went back and re-read a couple of them… and they’re STILL really good. I say… F the “kid horror” writers like R.L. Stine and his ilk… they’re gross-out hacks that churn out bad plots for a quick buck… doesn’t impress me. You want to hit me with a good spooky story? Look to Bellairs… who rarely had blood… no gross-out scenes… just solid mystery and tension with well-written characters… in a kid’s book.
Plus… the guy’s from New England. Yep… he’s a local boy. Or was… he died in 1991. I was sorry to hear his passing… as I credit him with getting me into the Gothic Mystery genre… and even horror in general.
Come to think of it, he was probably the only “horror” writer I liked… I couldn’t find any others I considered memorable. The only other horror books I liked were short story collections like Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (and its sequels More… and Even More…) and The Thing at the Foot of the Bed and other stories. Something about the “extreme” scary stories (that add in more gross-out and visceral ideas) that makes it fit into the short story form so much better in my eyes. They’re short, sweet… quick and to the point, not wasting any time… like getting to the punchline in a joke. Probably because I love the idea of “telling scary stories around a campfire”… and if you try to tell a Stephen-King-length novel in that situation… you’d get a Boy-Scout-style-Lynching. (Which I think involves being tied up with very complex knots and whittling) Edgar Allen Poe wrote mostly short stories… and pioneered the whole horror genre that way. Even the Bellairs books… are very quick reads, all things considered. Sure, there’s always the examples like Dracula (which I did my Senior Year Book Report on in High School… and covered the title page in fake blood) and Frankenstein…(who have both earned their pedigrees for a reason) and plenty of others. But I would consider those “exceptions”… because I think it takes considerable skill to write a horror story that big and still remain interesting. (And no… I’m personally not that crazy about Stephen King… his best works are short stories and novellas.) At best… most horror novels, especially the ones of today… elicit a “that wasn’t too bad” from me. But again, there are always exceptions.
So, in my youth, with the quality of literary horror lacking (movies were a much different story… and my standards were lower for those), I had to move to other genres. Back then, I did a lot of literal “judging a book by its cover”. Look at the cover illustration, read the blurb on the back... am I still interested? If I was… I checked it out of the school library. I remember finding one book that way… but I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me. It was about a kid inventor… who got his hands on a time machine and went looking for his adult friend who looked like a cartoon version of Ted Nugent. He went back to Camelot and cured the king with aspirin and even traveled to a future utopia/dystopia where he finally found his hippie friend. I think it had a long title… like “The adventures of (so-and-so) and his amazing (thing-a-ma-bobber)” But that’s all I remember. I want to re-locate it… pretty much solely out of nostalgic curiosity.
Another book I’ve been keeping an eye out for is a telling of the Hercules tale from Greek Mythology… this particular one had a head-on picture of Hercules on the cover, while wearing the pelt of the Nemean Lion… the full head of the lion being the headpiece of his armor. Seriously… it looked really badass. And the version was well-told and kept my interest (well… to the 12-year-old Me)… and went all the way from his birth to his death. Me want. Still.
Anyhoo…
When I hit high school… I still kept my technique of finding books to read… and now I was doing it in a bigger library. I then found the book that probably kick started my love of the “pulp adventure” genre (in the books, that is… of course I loved Indiana Jones and all those kinds of high-adventure movies set in the 1930s)… it was a more modern book written in that style… a series called Agent 13: The Midnight Avenger. Book 1 was The Brotherhood of Evil… it looked neat, it looked scary, it looked exciting, it looked like I was checking it out of the library. I read it. I loved it. It was just a fun, exciting read with international espionage, action and lots and lots of teenage-geek-style coolness. After that, I immediately checked out and read the sequel… The Serpentine Assassin. Again… it was great! Just as good as the first! I then went to get the third book, The Acolytes of Darkness… and they didn’t have it. I tried looking elsewhere… to some bookstores… but they didn’t have them either. In fact, all the bookstores didn’t even have the first two books… that school library was the ONLY place that I could find, in which those two Agent 13 books actually existed in reality. (It was kind of a frustrating search) Even after I got out of High School… I searched in vain for these books… especially because now I couldn’t check them out of the school library anymore, and I wanted to own them for myself. Nope… they were no where to be found.
Fast-forward to years later… when I first head out to California for Grad School… it’s actually the week I flew out there in advance to find a place to live and scope out this school I was about to attend, but had never seen before. There was this big 2-story used bookstore right on the edge of the downtown area… definitely the biggest and most well-stocked used bookstore I’ve ever seen (before or since), and right across from a really nice little old-style movie theater. The very first time I stepped in there to check it out, I look straight ahead where they had a huge rack of sci-fi/adventure paperback books… and I hadn’t been in that store for more than 5 seconds when my eyes drifted downward slightly… and I saw a copy of Agent 13: The Midnight Avenger – The Brotherhood of Evil. Out of sheer instinct I grabbed it, before ANYONE else could! (Even though there was no one else in the store) I opened the front flap to see how much they were asking for it: 2 dollars.
I walked out of there owning that book, needless to say. After years of search, I had the first book in my possession. I eventually even acquired the second book… through an online seller. Had to pay a little more, plus shipping… but it was still less than 10 bucks, and it was in good condition as well. And imagine my glee when I FINALLY located a copy of Acolytes of Darkness! It was printed along with another spy-thriller called Web of Danger (which I still haven’t read)… I now had all three! I re-read the first one… it was still fun! Re-read the second one… it was still great! I then, for the first time, got to read the conclusion to the whole story & series… and it blew.
Wow… probably one of the biggest disappointments I ever read. They took away the cool gritty exciting espionage action… and replaced it with lamely thought-out supernatural half-assed sequences that made no sense in the context of the previous stories. *shrug* Oh well… I still have the first two… and I just look at the ending of the second to be a cool cliffhanger that will never be resolved… which is all the more exciting for it. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
As you can probably see… my “leisure-time-reading” was solely about my own personal entertainment, not so much about expanding my own mind with the “classics” and examples of great, intelligent literature. The closest I came was reading Dracula for that book report… and that’s one I really WANTED to read, and just wanted an excuse to do so.
Whenever I did hit the “classics”… well, it was for a class. Frankly, when you HAVE to read something… you don’t really want to. They weren’t all bad… Freshman year I got to read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World… which I liked, because how often did I get to read science fiction in school? And I remember Camus’ The Stranger being pretty interesting (Senior Year)… but most of the others, not so much. Junior year especially… the year you focus on “American Literature” solely… I actually HATED every single book we had to read. Though, I actually blame my teacher for that. He just made everything seem so mind-numbingly boring. He was this pretentious a-hole that thought everyone was stupid (and if he didn’t think that… he sure acted like it), and was overly-tough on his classes. (Now, I have no problem with tough teachers… I’ve had plenty… but they were fair… and interesting, which is why I did well in those classes. This guy was ONLY tough… and neither fair nor interesting) The first book he made me utterly hate was The Scarlett Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
That’s a book I will NEVER give another shot to, I hated it so much. When I discovered that Hawthorne actually died in the town I went to college, it actually made me happy. Whenever I walked by his memorial plaque in the park, I gave it the finger. Granted, the hatred was more of a result of this teacher’s work then Hawthorne’s. When explaining why he took five pages to describe what a garden looked like that was sitting outside of someone’s house, the teacher would talk about how brilliant Hawthorne was, and how poetic his prose was, and how it paints such a detailed picture, blah blah blah. (When in actuality, the reason for the overly-long descriptions? Authors back then were paid by the word. The longer the book, the more money you made, and they all had house payments to make.)
The other books I was made to hate? The Great Gatsby, The Adventures of Huck Finn and The Catcher in the Rye. Now… years after I got out of high school… I decided to give The Catcher in the Rye another chance… mainly because I started hearing that it was tied into so many conspiracy theories. (Jack Ruby and Lee Harvey Oswald both supposedly had it in their pockets during their respective killings… so did Mark David Chapman, John Hinkley Jr., etc) Whether it was true or not, I don’t know… but it intrigued me enough to try and see what the fuss was about. I still don’t know the fuss… but I did enjoy the book a LOT more when reading it on my own time… and I don’t think it had to do with my maturity level now as opposed to then. To try and describe the book to someone… it wouldn’t sound interesting. But actually reading it… I thought it was well-done, and it actually kept my interest.
I’ve started Huck Finn a couple of times… but always got distracted with life before I got too far, and ended up putting it down for so long, that I would have to start over. Maybe I’ll have to give The Great Gatsby another try sometime. Maybe I’d like it. Just *that* teacher made it unbearable.
Fortunately, I had other teachers that were better at it. Hell, it was my Graduate Advisor that insisted I get into the Harry Potter series. I resisted for awhile… mainly because it was “popular”… but when I finally did, I was completely hooked. Sure, Potter lives… but Longbottom kicks ass! Boo-ya!
(I could probably do a whole geek blog on Harry Potter alone.)
These days… I still try to read every now and then... and my tastes have opened up more. I actually find pleasure in reading non-fiction books these days (the subjects I’m interested in, obviously)… and I’ve been trying to get to books and series that are modern “classics”, but I just never got around to reading before. I started reading the original James Bond books by Ian Fleming… I’m on the third one, Moonraker (though I haven’t picked it up in a while). And I was very happy to see that they were re-publishing some of the old The Shadow pulp stories that came out in the 1930s (Since really discovering him in the early 90s, he’s become one of my absolute favorite characters of all time), so I’ve been collecting some of them when I can. Plus, as I am a proud geek, they still occasionally publish new Doctor Who books (featuring the older versions of the character… taking place in between the episodes of the old series) that I occasionally indulge in.
Maybe its just pure escapism… I’m okay with it. I just love the feeling of buying a new book… and I frequent book stores as often as I can. With the bigger stores, I tend to browse around the Bargain section a lot… if there’s a specific book I want… I’ll usually order it cheaper online. But I like digging through and taking chances on books in the hopes that I’ll find a really neat treasure somewhere in there… a great story, or an interesting subject… or maybe just an outdated horoscope (if it looks funny enough).
Because I think there are perfectly acceptable times to judge a book by its cover.
Literally, that is.
I’m an avid reader… who doesn’t read that much.
That’s the fantasy as compared to the reality.
I love books… always have. I just don’t actually sit down and do a lot of reading. Maybe the more accurate term for me would be “book lover”… because the words don’t actually imply the act of reading.
Yeah, I like that. That’s what I’ll go with:
I’m a book lover.
You know that silly crap they spew about books being “doorways to another world” and other magical metaphoric terms? Yeah… I buy into that 100%. To me, that’s not crap.
It is one of my long-term dreams to have a library in my house… and not just a small room to keep my books on a couple of makeshift shelves. I’m talking a full-on, two-story LIBRARY… with high shelves in which you need to climb a rolling ladder that’s permanently attached… with a balcony section with even more shelves up there, all filled to the brim with books.
And hardcover… lots of hardcover books. Sure, there’s no difference in content between the hardcover versions and paperback copies… but having a hardcover version just seems… I don’t know… more permanent… longer-lasting than a softcover. If I find a book series I really like… I’ll try to find it in hardcover. That’s what I did with Lord of the Rings… I wanted a really nice, classy, hardcover set that didn’t have pictures or references to the movies on them (even though I love the movies, I always find it cheesy to have “now a major motion picture” permanently printed on it). I even got the hardcover, complete collection of Calvin & Hobbes… even though it probably would have been cheaper to get the few remaining paperback collections I was missing. Hardcover is just… better. That’s why I like it when I find the inexpensive copies of old stories… like a collection of H.G. Wells stories, Thoreau’s Walden, or short-story collections. I even have nice little hardcover versions of the 2 original Winnie-the-Pooh books. Opening a solid cover, as opposed to a paper one, really feels more like “opening a door to another world” (I told you I buy into that 100%).
Too bad I acquire more books than I actually get around to reading…
The earliest book I remember reading and loving was The Little Bear books. There were only three of them (that I remember)… and one of them had him flying to the moon, another had him having a birthday party with his other little animal friends (because… well, he was a bear. A little one.), but I don’t recall the plot of the third one. I remember about 7 years ago, I was walking through a bookstore (as I was often want to do) and saw The Collected Little Bear… which was ALL three of those original books, bound together, and it was even hardcover. It had the one where he went to the moon… the one with his birthday party… and I still can’t recall the third one. *shrug* Needless to say, I made the impulse buy right then and there… because that’s one of those books that I wanted to definitely have for MY kids one day (when and if I should have them). Now I do (somewhere… I just have to remember where I stored it).
I remember doing a lot of reading in Middle School… probably because I wasn’t doing too much else, social-wise. That was the time I discovered John Bellairs… who I would probably consider to be one of my all-time favorite authors, solely because I enjoyed his books so much at that age. He wrote in the “Junior Readers” category… so you’d most likely find his books in the kids section… but they were SPOOKY. I’m talking these things had atmosphere to spare… creepy old houses, cobwebs, dark corridors, secret passages, old dormant mysteries, scary figures lurking about… if those books were written and reviewed today, I don’t think they’d have been put in the kid’s section… (but only because people are too damned sensitive these days.) The first book of his I ever picked up was A Figure in the Shadows, which was actually the second book in a trilogy that featured the same characters. I used it for a book report… and I thought it was absolutely fantastic! I went and found the other books… The House With a Clock in Its Walls, and The Letter, The Witch and the Ring… and enjoyed them just as much. Then I collected the Anthony Monday mysteries, and the Johnny Dixon mysteries… all characters of John Bellairs, and all had that same style of atmosphere. Even after I reached adulthood (an arguable statement, I know), I went back and re-read a couple of them… and they’re STILL really good. I say… F the “kid horror” writers like R.L. Stine and his ilk… they’re gross-out hacks that churn out bad plots for a quick buck… doesn’t impress me. You want to hit me with a good spooky story? Look to Bellairs… who rarely had blood… no gross-out scenes… just solid mystery and tension with well-written characters… in a kid’s book.
Plus… the guy’s from New England. Yep… he’s a local boy. Or was… he died in 1991. I was sorry to hear his passing… as I credit him with getting me into the Gothic Mystery genre… and even horror in general.
Come to think of it, he was probably the only “horror” writer I liked… I couldn’t find any others I considered memorable. The only other horror books I liked were short story collections like Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (and its sequels More… and Even More…) and The Thing at the Foot of the Bed and other stories. Something about the “extreme” scary stories (that add in more gross-out and visceral ideas) that makes it fit into the short story form so much better in my eyes. They’re short, sweet… quick and to the point, not wasting any time… like getting to the punchline in a joke. Probably because I love the idea of “telling scary stories around a campfire”… and if you try to tell a Stephen-King-length novel in that situation… you’d get a Boy-Scout-style-Lynching. (Which I think involves being tied up with very complex knots and whittling) Edgar Allen Poe wrote mostly short stories… and pioneered the whole horror genre that way. Even the Bellairs books… are very quick reads, all things considered. Sure, there’s always the examples like Dracula (which I did my Senior Year Book Report on in High School… and covered the title page in fake blood) and Frankenstein…(who have both earned their pedigrees for a reason) and plenty of others. But I would consider those “exceptions”… because I think it takes considerable skill to write a horror story that big and still remain interesting. (And no… I’m personally not that crazy about Stephen King… his best works are short stories and novellas.) At best… most horror novels, especially the ones of today… elicit a “that wasn’t too bad” from me. But again, there are always exceptions.
So, in my youth, with the quality of literary horror lacking (movies were a much different story… and my standards were lower for those), I had to move to other genres. Back then, I did a lot of literal “judging a book by its cover”. Look at the cover illustration, read the blurb on the back... am I still interested? If I was… I checked it out of the school library. I remember finding one book that way… but I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me. It was about a kid inventor… who got his hands on a time machine and went looking for his adult friend who looked like a cartoon version of Ted Nugent. He went back to Camelot and cured the king with aspirin and even traveled to a future utopia/dystopia where he finally found his hippie friend. I think it had a long title… like “The adventures of (so-and-so) and his amazing (thing-a-ma-bobber)” But that’s all I remember. I want to re-locate it… pretty much solely out of nostalgic curiosity.
Another book I’ve been keeping an eye out for is a telling of the Hercules tale from Greek Mythology… this particular one had a head-on picture of Hercules on the cover, while wearing the pelt of the Nemean Lion… the full head of the lion being the headpiece of his armor. Seriously… it looked really badass. And the version was well-told and kept my interest (well… to the 12-year-old Me)… and went all the way from his birth to his death. Me want. Still.
Anyhoo…
When I hit high school… I still kept my technique of finding books to read… and now I was doing it in a bigger library. I then found the book that probably kick started my love of the “pulp adventure” genre (in the books, that is… of course I loved Indiana Jones and all those kinds of high-adventure movies set in the 1930s)… it was a more modern book written in that style… a series called Agent 13: The Midnight Avenger. Book 1 was The Brotherhood of Evil… it looked neat, it looked scary, it looked exciting, it looked like I was checking it out of the library. I read it. I loved it. It was just a fun, exciting read with international espionage, action and lots and lots of teenage-geek-style coolness. After that, I immediately checked out and read the sequel… The Serpentine Assassin. Again… it was great! Just as good as the first! I then went to get the third book, The Acolytes of Darkness… and they didn’t have it. I tried looking elsewhere… to some bookstores… but they didn’t have them either. In fact, all the bookstores didn’t even have the first two books… that school library was the ONLY place that I could find, in which those two Agent 13 books actually existed in reality. (It was kind of a frustrating search) Even after I got out of High School… I searched in vain for these books… especially because now I couldn’t check them out of the school library anymore, and I wanted to own them for myself. Nope… they were no where to be found.
Fast-forward to years later… when I first head out to California for Grad School… it’s actually the week I flew out there in advance to find a place to live and scope out this school I was about to attend, but had never seen before. There was this big 2-story used bookstore right on the edge of the downtown area… definitely the biggest and most well-stocked used bookstore I’ve ever seen (before or since), and right across from a really nice little old-style movie theater. The very first time I stepped in there to check it out, I look straight ahead where they had a huge rack of sci-fi/adventure paperback books… and I hadn’t been in that store for more than 5 seconds when my eyes drifted downward slightly… and I saw a copy of Agent 13: The Midnight Avenger – The Brotherhood of Evil. Out of sheer instinct I grabbed it, before ANYONE else could! (Even though there was no one else in the store) I opened the front flap to see how much they were asking for it: 2 dollars.
I walked out of there owning that book, needless to say. After years of search, I had the first book in my possession. I eventually even acquired the second book… through an online seller. Had to pay a little more, plus shipping… but it was still less than 10 bucks, and it was in good condition as well. And imagine my glee when I FINALLY located a copy of Acolytes of Darkness! It was printed along with another spy-thriller called Web of Danger (which I still haven’t read)… I now had all three! I re-read the first one… it was still fun! Re-read the second one… it was still great! I then, for the first time, got to read the conclusion to the whole story & series… and it blew.
Wow… probably one of the biggest disappointments I ever read. They took away the cool gritty exciting espionage action… and replaced it with lamely thought-out supernatural half-assed sequences that made no sense in the context of the previous stories. *shrug* Oh well… I still have the first two… and I just look at the ending of the second to be a cool cliffhanger that will never be resolved… which is all the more exciting for it. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
As you can probably see… my “leisure-time-reading” was solely about my own personal entertainment, not so much about expanding my own mind with the “classics” and examples of great, intelligent literature. The closest I came was reading Dracula for that book report… and that’s one I really WANTED to read, and just wanted an excuse to do so.
Whenever I did hit the “classics”… well, it was for a class. Frankly, when you HAVE to read something… you don’t really want to. They weren’t all bad… Freshman year I got to read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World… which I liked, because how often did I get to read science fiction in school? And I remember Camus’ The Stranger being pretty interesting (Senior Year)… but most of the others, not so much. Junior year especially… the year you focus on “American Literature” solely… I actually HATED every single book we had to read. Though, I actually blame my teacher for that. He just made everything seem so mind-numbingly boring. He was this pretentious a-hole that thought everyone was stupid (and if he didn’t think that… he sure acted like it), and was overly-tough on his classes. (Now, I have no problem with tough teachers… I’ve had plenty… but they were fair… and interesting, which is why I did well in those classes. This guy was ONLY tough… and neither fair nor interesting) The first book he made me utterly hate was The Scarlett Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
That’s a book I will NEVER give another shot to, I hated it so much. When I discovered that Hawthorne actually died in the town I went to college, it actually made me happy. Whenever I walked by his memorial plaque in the park, I gave it the finger. Granted, the hatred was more of a result of this teacher’s work then Hawthorne’s. When explaining why he took five pages to describe what a garden looked like that was sitting outside of someone’s house, the teacher would talk about how brilliant Hawthorne was, and how poetic his prose was, and how it paints such a detailed picture, blah blah blah. (When in actuality, the reason for the overly-long descriptions? Authors back then were paid by the word. The longer the book, the more money you made, and they all had house payments to make.)
The other books I was made to hate? The Great Gatsby, The Adventures of Huck Finn and The Catcher in the Rye. Now… years after I got out of high school… I decided to give The Catcher in the Rye another chance… mainly because I started hearing that it was tied into so many conspiracy theories. (Jack Ruby and Lee Harvey Oswald both supposedly had it in their pockets during their respective killings… so did Mark David Chapman, John Hinkley Jr., etc) Whether it was true or not, I don’t know… but it intrigued me enough to try and see what the fuss was about. I still don’t know the fuss… but I did enjoy the book a LOT more when reading it on my own time… and I don’t think it had to do with my maturity level now as opposed to then. To try and describe the book to someone… it wouldn’t sound interesting. But actually reading it… I thought it was well-done, and it actually kept my interest.
I’ve started Huck Finn a couple of times… but always got distracted with life before I got too far, and ended up putting it down for so long, that I would have to start over. Maybe I’ll have to give The Great Gatsby another try sometime. Maybe I’d like it. Just *that* teacher made it unbearable.
Fortunately, I had other teachers that were better at it. Hell, it was my Graduate Advisor that insisted I get into the Harry Potter series. I resisted for awhile… mainly because it was “popular”… but when I finally did, I was completely hooked. Sure, Potter lives… but Longbottom kicks ass! Boo-ya!
(I could probably do a whole geek blog on Harry Potter alone.)
These days… I still try to read every now and then... and my tastes have opened up more. I actually find pleasure in reading non-fiction books these days (the subjects I’m interested in, obviously)… and I’ve been trying to get to books and series that are modern “classics”, but I just never got around to reading before. I started reading the original James Bond books by Ian Fleming… I’m on the third one, Moonraker (though I haven’t picked it up in a while). And I was very happy to see that they were re-publishing some of the old The Shadow pulp stories that came out in the 1930s (Since really discovering him in the early 90s, he’s become one of my absolute favorite characters of all time), so I’ve been collecting some of them when I can. Plus, as I am a proud geek, they still occasionally publish new Doctor Who books (featuring the older versions of the character… taking place in between the episodes of the old series) that I occasionally indulge in.
Maybe its just pure escapism… I’m okay with it. I just love the feeling of buying a new book… and I frequent book stores as often as I can. With the bigger stores, I tend to browse around the Bargain section a lot… if there’s a specific book I want… I’ll usually order it cheaper online. But I like digging through and taking chances on books in the hopes that I’ll find a really neat treasure somewhere in there… a great story, or an interesting subject… or maybe just an outdated horoscope (if it looks funny enough).
Because I think there are perfectly acceptable times to judge a book by its cover.
Literally, that is.
1.23.2008
A Love Letter on Lovin' Letters
Once upon a time… in the time before E-mail, before blogging, before texting and the wide distribution of cellular phones… I wrote letters.
Actual pen-to-paper-stick-in-an-envelope-and-pay-for-a-stamp LETTERS.
The first one of note that I wrote was a response to a “Pen Pal Ad” in this publication called “The 21st century” (even though it was the early 90s). It was a paper that went around to a bunch of high schools in New England (only, I think), and one section was something that resembled “personal ads” in a regular newspaper, only it was limited to requests for Pen Pals. Not having a lot to occupy my time in those days, nor a lot of people to talk to… I took a chance and answered a few, hoping they would find me interesting enough to write back.
The first was a girl about my age in Massachusetts. She was on the Girl’s Basketball Team, and her father was a Sports Coach, and she had a dream to get accepted and to attend Harvard. She wasn’t sure if she was good enough or if she would be able to afford it. Her first letter back to me was one piece of ruled paper, hand-written on both sides. The cursive was small, not only on the letter itself, but also on the envelope and return address… and she put a “y” instead of an “i” at the end of my name. :)
It proudly became the first of my collection… all lined up by date received in a shoebox that I’ve had since. Twice I’ve upgraded to bigger shoe boxes. (Good thing I was getting bigger shoes)
Our correspondence didn’t last that long… I received a total of four letters from her… each one longer than the last. I tried my best to write back swiftly, and she did the same. But Senior Year is a busy one for all. We even exchanged pictures, and I really enjoyed those letters, but they stopped. A few years later, when I went away to college, and just started to learn about e-mail and UNIX and all that early Internet stuff… I actually got to see a list of e-mails of students at Harvard University, and her name was among them. I wrote to the address, giving the details she had written to me, and asked if she was the same person. Sadly, it wasn’t… just someone with the same name. Oh well… it was worth a shot. I would’ve liked to congratulate her for making it to Harvard like she wished. Though I don’t know if the real one ever did… but I hope her dreams got bigger, and she is still able to pursue them.
I did get a few other Pen Pals. I was quickly addicted. Learning and meeting new people… with none of the immediate judgment and blunders that can mark an introduction. A letter from a Pen Pal is simultaneously revealing and mysterious… it really makes you want to write back quickly, so you’ll get their next letter that much quicker.
The second, I thought was my most memorable. She actually lived in the next town. It definitely didn’t take long for our letters to reach each other, that’s for sure. She too had placed in ad in that 21st Century paper, and from what she told me, she got about 75 responses. She wrote back to the ones that interested her, and kept eliminating the ones she didn’t like. After 3 months… I was the only one that she still wrote to. (Even if it was an exaggeration, it’s a nice compliment) We even exchanged phone numbers, and started chatting on the phone. We would literally chat for hours on end… often times talking about absolutely nothing. That was where I learned talking about nothing could be so much fun.
I know my parents were a bit *ahem*… “concerned”. They believed her to be from a “bad part of town”, and the one time I did introduce them to her, they didn’t like her air of “non-normalcy”, I’ll just say. For one: It was New Hampshire, not freaking Beirut! If I couldn’t be expected to handle myself in a “bad section” of NH, I obviously haven’t been raised to be competent in ANYTHING. As for the “non-normalcy”… I remember my Mom actually telling me a few days after they met her, that “she didn’t want me to see her again” and she thought that “She was a bad influence on me.” Gee, Thanks. Its always nice when your parents consider you to be an easily-swayed Sheep. Sheesh… the whole thing was starting to sound like “Romeo & Juliet”… except that neither of us had even considered actually dating. I was just happy to have a friend. Was she considered “weird”? Sure… but it was apparently forgotten that *I was too*! As for her being a “bad influence on me”?... Apparently the concept of me being a “good” influence on her wasn't an option. (Which wasn't even needed, as she was good peeps) The aspect of “non-normalcy” would turn out to be a similar characteristic throughout several friends I would come to know throughout my life. We weirdoes tend to seek each other out. I learned that when I finally went away to college. And even today, I *rarely* introduce my friends/dates/anyone to my Parents… pretty much because of all that fallout.
As far as my Parents knew… I obeyed their lame wishes and never had any contact with her again. In reality, we stayed in touch for a good few years after that. Eventually, the letters and calls did stop… but I would relish an opportunity to re-institute contact again. (I’ve looked… can’t find her anywhere. *shrug*)
The only other person I think I would have considered as a steady “Pen Pal”… was my cousin. When she went away to college, I was starting classes at a local Community College… and we started writing to each other. I had particular fun writing to her, because I recruited help. I would get friends, or fellow cast members of shows I was in, to write to her as well. I’d hand them the paper and say, “Here! Write to my Cousin!” More of an order, granted… but everyone would at least write something without objection. Sometimes I’d have to use an extra stamp, because the letter got to be 7 pages long. (Hey, I like to give something substantial to read.) I actually consider our correspondence to be an interesting point in my life… because even though we’re family, and our extended family was always close… I think we really started to know each other more that way. I mean really got to know each other. Whenever we had “known” each other previously… was always in the presence of other family members. And even though we were the same age… she was always considered more on par with my one-year-older brother… because they were both “middle children”. Then one day, over the summer at a family function, we were chatting, and at one point, there happened to be no one else around. She then remarked to me at how surprised she was at me. I asked why… and she said that through our letters, and these times of honestly, truly talking to each other… she’s realized that I was a completely different person than I was when I was around my brothers. I was being witty, intelligent, dare I say, even cool… and showing all these pleasant qualities that for some reason weren’t able to come out when in the presence of my brothers or even my parents. To this day, I still don’t have a fully satisfactory answer as to why that phenomenon occurs.
That was the first time I actually felt truly understood. And I was seeing how my letter-writing was helping me to find Me.
I continued to write letters. I would gain “e-mail pals” at school, using that funky cool new thing called e-mail, but as the summers approached, and everyone had to return home… where e-mail didn’t exist… we all exchanged addresses, and wrote. I’d write to people across the country who I technically had never met… and to the friends I couldn’t wait to see again at college. At the end of the summers, I’d exchange addresses with old co-workers who didn’t have e-mail, and try to keep in touch while I was away at school. I was really good at writing to people. Usually, I’d get at least one response. Sometimes more. Occasionally, I didn’t get any.
I look through that shoe-box of letters, and I see names that I hadn’t thought of in so many years. And several names I don’t remember at all! A couple were Crushes. Some weren’t exactly letters… but odd newspaper clippings from one of the “eccentric” ones of our group. :) Several people eventually started having some fun with the return addresses and envelopes. There would be brand-new nicknames lying between my first and last name… such as “Dishboy” (a reference to an old job, and obviously from one of those co-workers). One of my favorites was from a friend who, instead of putting his own name on the return address, wrote “The One You Model Your Life After”. (The funny thing is… I still remember who that is.)
Then, I got, what I considered at the time, to be the best set of letters I had ever received. In college, from a girl I was completely head over heels for. We weren’t dating yet… but I was REALLY hoping that we would. The first letter was a Christmas Card (with a very long message inside). Over the few weeks that we were separated due to the Xmas break in college, I got four letters from her before I was able to see her in person again. The next time I got a letter from her was after we left for the summer… and *that* was the first letter I ever received from an official girlfriend. And that was very easily… the first love-letter I ever got. Young love never felt so good.
I look at the dates on those envelopes… 11 years ago. Wow. Seem like more than a lifetime. I actually do occasionally hear from her. I’ve got her AND her husband as friends on MySpace. The husband is ANOTHER friend of mine from college… and I actually introduced them. Granted, when they re-met years later and started dating, they probably didn’t even remember that initial introduction… so I technically had nothing to do with it… but I’m taking the credit anyway. *ppppbbbbbttttthhhhttttt!!!” :P You know, it’s a really neat feeling to know that two people that you find to be very Cool… turn out to be very Cool for each other. :) Rock on, Chaka Khan!
Too bad I never got love letters after that. It’s not that I dated horrible people… I was just never separated from them to give the letters a chance to be written. Though, in retrospect… I should have just written them anyway. Even if I was only minutes away from seeing them. Even if I didn’t get them… THEY should have. Having it in a person’s unique handwriting is special beyond words. The act itself, regardless of any clumsy rendered sentiments within… is permanent. A time-capsule of sorts. Perfectly preserving a feeling in time (even if it’s not eloquently conveyed). I believe it really is “the thought that counts” in something like that. I should have done it more myself. (I wish I philosophized over it earlier than now.) But that’s why I always kept any hand-written little note that I was given. I have them all. Yeah, I never got that many of them… but I kept them all. May not be a full love letter… but it's sure something.
I really think it’s a Lost Art. The whole idea of writing letters. You can go to a library or bookstore and find whole books that are literally the correspondence between two people. Two friends, or two lovers… colleagues… political letters, anything. You can actually read the correspondence of Franz Kafka and the woman he loved. The letters of H.P. Lovecraft and his friend Robert Howard. Even the Griffin & Sabine trilogy… a fictional story told through letters and postcards, where you actually OPEN the envelopes and find the letter inside.
Are we REALLY going to see… in this day and age… a published book of two people’s e-mails? Or “The Collected Text Messages of Paris Hilton 2004-2007 Vol. 1” Filled with ROTFL, TTYL, ASL, BFF, CYA, G2G, HOAS, IMHO, OTOH, KWIM, LMAO, TTFN, WTG and other such inane patter all over? Sweet Jeebus, I don’t even know what half that crap means!
E-mail and Text messages… even though it’s all crap I do MYSELF… does make the world a little colder, I think. Yeah, they’re easy and convenient… simple ways to keep in touch with more people… and that can be a good thing… but we have to be more careful of exactly what we say so that we’re not misinterpreted. Things like emotions, mood, sarcasm, humor… are harder to convey electronically. But in a handwritten letter… If you’re angry or frustrated… even if you don’t use any words to say so, it will still show, as the letters and sentences are darker and bolder… from the pen being forcefully pressed into the paper, almost coming out the other side. It’s harder to hide something like that.
Yes, I’m aware of a certain sense of irony here… as this blog is being TYPED. To its defense, typing does still allow options like italics, bold, underlining, font changes and stuff like that… which can help convey those meanings that sometimes seem to be lost to us. Acting in a manner more like handwriting. Which is a step in the right direction… providing the tools are used. But cursive handwriting will always have the upper hand to me.
Hell, one time I got a letter from my Aunt… an actual mailed letter. It was when I was living in California, and it was typed. Had no underlines, italics or boldface in it. But within that letter… was something I wasn’t used to seeing. It wasn’t much… just a little hint. You see, it had been a particularly rough year (for everyone I knew it seemed like), and she talked a little bit about it, before going to the normal family stuff. Yet, throughout all the family functions I had been to, from talking in big or small groups… I had never seen what I was now seeing. A small hint… of vulnerability.
Sure, it may seem obvious… everyone has that aspect to them. But in my family, when we get together, it’s a good time. So many people talking at once, whether it’s one big conversation or several small ones at the same time. It’s big, loud, a bit boisterous and most always good natured. And here… I was seeing a side of my Aunt… nay, a side of my FAMILY, that I had never really seen before. Yeah, everyone knows its there… but you never actually see it.
All in a letter. That would never come out in an e-mail. Never would come out at holidays. But there it is. An emotion preserved. That’s a rare, powerful and beautiful thing.
So, I need to get back in my old habit of letter writing. Because I’ll never get letters if I don’t send them. And I’ve got some letters to catch up on. I received one last year, that I never responded to… it’s time I did. Even if I never get a response… like I said earlier, the OTHER person deserves to see that beauty for themselves. Even if it does come from a little ol fool like me. :)
Actual pen-to-paper-stick-in-an-envelope-and-pay-for-a-stamp LETTERS.
The first one of note that I wrote was a response to a “Pen Pal Ad” in this publication called “The 21st century” (even though it was the early 90s). It was a paper that went around to a bunch of high schools in New England (only, I think), and one section was something that resembled “personal ads” in a regular newspaper, only it was limited to requests for Pen Pals. Not having a lot to occupy my time in those days, nor a lot of people to talk to… I took a chance and answered a few, hoping they would find me interesting enough to write back.
The first was a girl about my age in Massachusetts. She was on the Girl’s Basketball Team, and her father was a Sports Coach, and she had a dream to get accepted and to attend Harvard. She wasn’t sure if she was good enough or if she would be able to afford it. Her first letter back to me was one piece of ruled paper, hand-written on both sides. The cursive was small, not only on the letter itself, but also on the envelope and return address… and she put a “y” instead of an “i” at the end of my name. :)
It proudly became the first of my collection… all lined up by date received in a shoebox that I’ve had since. Twice I’ve upgraded to bigger shoe boxes. (Good thing I was getting bigger shoes)
Our correspondence didn’t last that long… I received a total of four letters from her… each one longer than the last. I tried my best to write back swiftly, and she did the same. But Senior Year is a busy one for all. We even exchanged pictures, and I really enjoyed those letters, but they stopped. A few years later, when I went away to college, and just started to learn about e-mail and UNIX and all that early Internet stuff… I actually got to see a list of e-mails of students at Harvard University, and her name was among them. I wrote to the address, giving the details she had written to me, and asked if she was the same person. Sadly, it wasn’t… just someone with the same name. Oh well… it was worth a shot. I would’ve liked to congratulate her for making it to Harvard like she wished. Though I don’t know if the real one ever did… but I hope her dreams got bigger, and she is still able to pursue them.
I did get a few other Pen Pals. I was quickly addicted. Learning and meeting new people… with none of the immediate judgment and blunders that can mark an introduction. A letter from a Pen Pal is simultaneously revealing and mysterious… it really makes you want to write back quickly, so you’ll get their next letter that much quicker.
The second, I thought was my most memorable. She actually lived in the next town. It definitely didn’t take long for our letters to reach each other, that’s for sure. She too had placed in ad in that 21st Century paper, and from what she told me, she got about 75 responses. She wrote back to the ones that interested her, and kept eliminating the ones she didn’t like. After 3 months… I was the only one that she still wrote to. (Even if it was an exaggeration, it’s a nice compliment) We even exchanged phone numbers, and started chatting on the phone. We would literally chat for hours on end… often times talking about absolutely nothing. That was where I learned talking about nothing could be so much fun.
I know my parents were a bit *ahem*… “concerned”. They believed her to be from a “bad part of town”, and the one time I did introduce them to her, they didn’t like her air of “non-normalcy”, I’ll just say. For one: It was New Hampshire, not freaking Beirut! If I couldn’t be expected to handle myself in a “bad section” of NH, I obviously haven’t been raised to be competent in ANYTHING. As for the “non-normalcy”… I remember my Mom actually telling me a few days after they met her, that “she didn’t want me to see her again” and she thought that “She was a bad influence on me.” Gee, Thanks. Its always nice when your parents consider you to be an easily-swayed Sheep. Sheesh… the whole thing was starting to sound like “Romeo & Juliet”… except that neither of us had even considered actually dating. I was just happy to have a friend. Was she considered “weird”? Sure… but it was apparently forgotten that *I was too*! As for her being a “bad influence on me”?... Apparently the concept of me being a “good” influence on her wasn't an option. (Which wasn't even needed, as she was good peeps) The aspect of “non-normalcy” would turn out to be a similar characteristic throughout several friends I would come to know throughout my life. We weirdoes tend to seek each other out. I learned that when I finally went away to college. And even today, I *rarely* introduce my friends/dates/anyone to my Parents… pretty much because of all that fallout.
As far as my Parents knew… I obeyed their lame wishes and never had any contact with her again. In reality, we stayed in touch for a good few years after that. Eventually, the letters and calls did stop… but I would relish an opportunity to re-institute contact again. (I’ve looked… can’t find her anywhere. *shrug*)
The only other person I think I would have considered as a steady “Pen Pal”… was my cousin. When she went away to college, I was starting classes at a local Community College… and we started writing to each other. I had particular fun writing to her, because I recruited help. I would get friends, or fellow cast members of shows I was in, to write to her as well. I’d hand them the paper and say, “Here! Write to my Cousin!” More of an order, granted… but everyone would at least write something without objection. Sometimes I’d have to use an extra stamp, because the letter got to be 7 pages long. (Hey, I like to give something substantial to read.) I actually consider our correspondence to be an interesting point in my life… because even though we’re family, and our extended family was always close… I think we really started to know each other more that way. I mean really got to know each other. Whenever we had “known” each other previously… was always in the presence of other family members. And even though we were the same age… she was always considered more on par with my one-year-older brother… because they were both “middle children”. Then one day, over the summer at a family function, we were chatting, and at one point, there happened to be no one else around. She then remarked to me at how surprised she was at me. I asked why… and she said that through our letters, and these times of honestly, truly talking to each other… she’s realized that I was a completely different person than I was when I was around my brothers. I was being witty, intelligent, dare I say, even cool… and showing all these pleasant qualities that for some reason weren’t able to come out when in the presence of my brothers or even my parents. To this day, I still don’t have a fully satisfactory answer as to why that phenomenon occurs.
That was the first time I actually felt truly understood. And I was seeing how my letter-writing was helping me to find Me.
I continued to write letters. I would gain “e-mail pals” at school, using that funky cool new thing called e-mail, but as the summers approached, and everyone had to return home… where e-mail didn’t exist… we all exchanged addresses, and wrote. I’d write to people across the country who I technically had never met… and to the friends I couldn’t wait to see again at college. At the end of the summers, I’d exchange addresses with old co-workers who didn’t have e-mail, and try to keep in touch while I was away at school. I was really good at writing to people. Usually, I’d get at least one response. Sometimes more. Occasionally, I didn’t get any.
I look through that shoe-box of letters, and I see names that I hadn’t thought of in so many years. And several names I don’t remember at all! A couple were Crushes. Some weren’t exactly letters… but odd newspaper clippings from one of the “eccentric” ones of our group. :) Several people eventually started having some fun with the return addresses and envelopes. There would be brand-new nicknames lying between my first and last name… such as “Dishboy” (a reference to an old job, and obviously from one of those co-workers). One of my favorites was from a friend who, instead of putting his own name on the return address, wrote “The One You Model Your Life After”. (The funny thing is… I still remember who that is.)
Then, I got, what I considered at the time, to be the best set of letters I had ever received. In college, from a girl I was completely head over heels for. We weren’t dating yet… but I was REALLY hoping that we would. The first letter was a Christmas Card (with a very long message inside). Over the few weeks that we were separated due to the Xmas break in college, I got four letters from her before I was able to see her in person again. The next time I got a letter from her was after we left for the summer… and *that* was the first letter I ever received from an official girlfriend. And that was very easily… the first love-letter I ever got. Young love never felt so good.
I look at the dates on those envelopes… 11 years ago. Wow. Seem like more than a lifetime. I actually do occasionally hear from her. I’ve got her AND her husband as friends on MySpace. The husband is ANOTHER friend of mine from college… and I actually introduced them. Granted, when they re-met years later and started dating, they probably didn’t even remember that initial introduction… so I technically had nothing to do with it… but I’m taking the credit anyway. *ppppbbbbbttttthhhhttttt!!!” :P You know, it’s a really neat feeling to know that two people that you find to be very Cool… turn out to be very Cool for each other. :) Rock on, Chaka Khan!
Too bad I never got love letters after that. It’s not that I dated horrible people… I was just never separated from them to give the letters a chance to be written. Though, in retrospect… I should have just written them anyway. Even if I was only minutes away from seeing them. Even if I didn’t get them… THEY should have. Having it in a person’s unique handwriting is special beyond words. The act itself, regardless of any clumsy rendered sentiments within… is permanent. A time-capsule of sorts. Perfectly preserving a feeling in time (even if it’s not eloquently conveyed). I believe it really is “the thought that counts” in something like that. I should have done it more myself. (I wish I philosophized over it earlier than now.) But that’s why I always kept any hand-written little note that I was given. I have them all. Yeah, I never got that many of them… but I kept them all. May not be a full love letter… but it's sure something.
I really think it’s a Lost Art. The whole idea of writing letters. You can go to a library or bookstore and find whole books that are literally the correspondence between two people. Two friends, or two lovers… colleagues… political letters, anything. You can actually read the correspondence of Franz Kafka and the woman he loved. The letters of H.P. Lovecraft and his friend Robert Howard. Even the Griffin & Sabine trilogy… a fictional story told through letters and postcards, where you actually OPEN the envelopes and find the letter inside.
Are we REALLY going to see… in this day and age… a published book of two people’s e-mails? Or “The Collected Text Messages of Paris Hilton 2004-2007 Vol. 1” Filled with ROTFL, TTYL, ASL, BFF, CYA, G2G, HOAS, IMHO, OTOH, KWIM, LMAO, TTFN, WTG and other such inane patter all over? Sweet Jeebus, I don’t even know what half that crap means!
E-mail and Text messages… even though it’s all crap I do MYSELF… does make the world a little colder, I think. Yeah, they’re easy and convenient… simple ways to keep in touch with more people… and that can be a good thing… but we have to be more careful of exactly what we say so that we’re not misinterpreted. Things like emotions, mood, sarcasm, humor… are harder to convey electronically. But in a handwritten letter… If you’re angry or frustrated… even if you don’t use any words to say so, it will still show, as the letters and sentences are darker and bolder… from the pen being forcefully pressed into the paper, almost coming out the other side. It’s harder to hide something like that.
Yes, I’m aware of a certain sense of irony here… as this blog is being TYPED. To its defense, typing does still allow options like italics, bold, underlining, font changes and stuff like that… which can help convey those meanings that sometimes seem to be lost to us. Acting in a manner more like handwriting. Which is a step in the right direction… providing the tools are used. But cursive handwriting will always have the upper hand to me.
Hell, one time I got a letter from my Aunt… an actual mailed letter. It was when I was living in California, and it was typed. Had no underlines, italics or boldface in it. But within that letter… was something I wasn’t used to seeing. It wasn’t much… just a little hint. You see, it had been a particularly rough year (for everyone I knew it seemed like), and she talked a little bit about it, before going to the normal family stuff. Yet, throughout all the family functions I had been to, from talking in big or small groups… I had never seen what I was now seeing. A small hint… of vulnerability.
Sure, it may seem obvious… everyone has that aspect to them. But in my family, when we get together, it’s a good time. So many people talking at once, whether it’s one big conversation or several small ones at the same time. It’s big, loud, a bit boisterous and most always good natured. And here… I was seeing a side of my Aunt… nay, a side of my FAMILY, that I had never really seen before. Yeah, everyone knows its there… but you never actually see it.
All in a letter. That would never come out in an e-mail. Never would come out at holidays. But there it is. An emotion preserved. That’s a rare, powerful and beautiful thing.
So, I need to get back in my old habit of letter writing. Because I’ll never get letters if I don’t send them. And I’ve got some letters to catch up on. I received one last year, that I never responded to… it’s time I did. Even if I never get a response… like I said earlier, the OTHER person deserves to see that beauty for themselves. Even if it does come from a little ol fool like me. :)
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