Holiday Break

WHAT’S PLAYING: Whitesnake “Here I Go Again

It’s been a long time since my last post. I want to blame my absence on work or school or poor health. And, while all of the above have been factors, the truth is that I’ve been struggling with an ennui I can’t seem to shake.

 depression_lost

So, I’ll be taking the next two weeks off to read my favorite books (LOTR, anyone?), watch my favorite movies (I have all twelve seasons of Murder, She Wrote on DVD. I sense a marathon coming.), and spend time with my favorite people.

If that doesn’t jump-start my creative batteries, nothing will.

See you in two weeks!

This is Why I Shouldn’t Take Breaks

WHAT’S PLAYING: Christina Aguilera feat. Nicki MinajWoohoo

Recently, I decided to take a break from writing and recharge my batteries. While that might work for some, when it comes to someone as lazy as I am, inactivity inevitably leads to stagnation. The result being that I’ve written precious little in the last four or five weeks. And I’m not just talking about my novel. Blog posts, Facebook, Twitter, hell even my grocery list, all have fallen by the wayside while I languished in the doldrums feeling sorry for myself.

This morning, I decided enough was enough. No more self-pity parties. I got out of bed, sat down and made a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish today.

This is what I came up with:

Yes, I know it needs work, but it’s a process, right?

*Sigh* Don’t judge me.

Why You Should Get Lost in Discworld or How Terry Pratchett Changed My Life

WHAT’S PLAYING: AdeleLovesong

I received a strange package in the mail last Monday, but because of work and the general chaos that is my life, I didn’t get a chance to open it until the night before Thanksgiving. Imagine my surprise when I opened the envelope to reveal a signed copy of Terry Pratchett’s latest Discworld novel “Snuff”.

Cue happy dance!

Happy Dance

After jumping around and screaming for about twenty minutes, I settled in and started reading. Bedtime came and went, chores went undone, and phones and e-mails unanswered.  (Sorry, Dad.) I finished it around 3AM, and fell asleep still wanting more.

Now, I could tell you how great the Discworld books are. Funny, relevant, and brilliantly written, they are an awesome combination of fantasy, humor and satire.

Instead, I think I’ll tell you how these books changed my life.

When I was nine years old – per a custody agreement drawn up before I was even born – I left my home on the reservation and moved in with my father. I still visited my mother fairly often, but it wasn’t the same as living with her. I was something of a loner before I left the rez. After, I became down right reclusive. I rarely spoke and spent most of that summer in my room, only coming down for meals or at my father’s insistence.

Problem was that I didn’t speak English very well. I could barely string three words together.  So, that fall, my father enrolled me in a Catholic school that specialized in teaching ESL (English as a Second Language). I excelled at math and science, but my grasp of the English language remained sketchy at best. Truth is, I didn’t want to learn. I already spoke one language fluently. How many did I need?

Then one day, a nun handed me an old, dog-eared copy of “The Color of Magic”. It took me over a month to finish it, but after that, I was a goner. I decided that if I had to learn English to read books like that, then I would learn. Six months later, I had reached “proficient” level. Two months after that, I was fluent. My love of reading didn’t end with Discworld – over the years, I discovered Twain, Gaiman, Shirley, Norton, McCraffrey, Lackey, and so many others – but it began there. And the result is that I now get to make my living doing the two things I love most: chemistry and writing.

Don’t get me wrong, not everything is roses. There are mornings I wake to the gray and featureless void of depression. When the very act of breathing is a struggle and I feel about as worthless as tits on a telephone pole. It’s on these days that I force myself to look for pleasure in small things: a funny movie, an uplifting piece of music, a hot shower, even a spoon of ice cream. (To paraphrase Raymond Carver: eating is a small, good thing in a time like that.)

And, of course, a good book.

The Discworld novels saw me through my first transition from reservation life to the mainstream. Ten years later, they helped me cope when I lost my twin brother, and my fiancée five years after that.

I’m not saying that reading is some sort of magical cure for depression. It’s not. But, you have to admit that a world in which books like “Snuff” or “The Color of Magic” exist can’t be all bad.

What about you? What cheers you up when life gets  hard? Friends? Family? Music, art, or books? Where do you find your little wonders, your small pleasures?

Stories not only shape our perceptions, but can also shape our lives if we let them. They remind us that there is no such thing as a hopeless cause, that we can all be better if we choose. If they’re really good, stories can leave us feeling uplifted and a bit wiser.

And that is no small thing.