Repost from Jan 8, 2017: Love, loyalty, and grief

Last night when I should have been preparing for bed, I turned on the TV for some mindless noise and on the CW movie channel (33-2), Hachi, a story of an Akita and the man who found him at a train station. The reason I left the movie on as I dressed for bed, tucked in the dog, and played a game on my tablet was because it was a sweet slow story.

A young boy was asked to make a report about a hero in his life so he told about his grandfather’s dog, Hachi. There were no men trying to steal the dog. There were no car chases. In fact it was not my normal movie fare.

However, as I watched the man and dog interact through play. As I watched the dog escort him to the train station and then meet the professor when he got off the train, I started to get invested in the two of them. Yes, I waited for something to happen, but it was so quiet that I didn’t get the dramatic affect until later in the movie.

At this point, I am warning you– I will be revealing plot points–so if you don’t want to know, do not read further–

The professor dies. Hachi waits for him to come home for several years.

How can I explain the affect this part of the movie had on my emotions. The movie went from being a sweet story about a love between a man and his dog to a emotionally charged movie about a dog that waited for a man who would never come home again.

Of course I made the connection between this dog and my own circumstances. I lost a husband from cancer. I know in my mind that I will never see him again in the physical world– only through a few pictures and recordings. However, my emotions even after two years had not reached my thoughts. Last night, I knew through my body that my husband would never come home again.

I am told that it gets easier. I know it gets easier. I don’t get faced with these thoughts every hour of every day like the first year. I actually laughed a few months ago.

How long did I cry? Enough that my sinuses were clogged and I couldn’t breath. Enough that I was numb. Is this a catharsis?

“The movie was based on the real Hachikō, who was born in Ōdate in 1923. After the death of his owner, Hidesaburō Ueno in 1925, Hachikō returned to the Shibuya train station the next day and every day after that for the next nine years until he died in March 1935. A bronze statue of Hachikō is in front of the Shibuya train station in his honor.” Wikipedia

 

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Love, loyalty, and grief

Last night when I should have been preparing for bed, I turned on the TV for some mindless noise and on the CW movie channel (33-2), Hachi, a story of an Akita and the man who found him at a train station. The reason I left the movie on as I dressed for bed, tucked in the dog, and played a game on my tablet was because it was a sweet slow story.

A young boy was asked to make a report about a hero in his life so he told about his grandfather’s dog, Hachi. There were no men trying to steal the dog. There were no car chases. In fact it was not my normal movie fare.

However, as I watched the man and dog interact through play. As I watched the dog escort him to the train station and then meet the professor when he got off the train, I started to get invested in the two of them. Yes, I waited for something to happen, but it was so quiet that I didn’t get the dramatic affect until later in the movie.

At this point, I am warning you– I will be revealing plot points–so if you don’t want to know, do not read further–

The professor dies. Hachi waits for him to come home for several years.

How can I explain the affect this part of the movie had on my emotions. The movie went from being a sweet story about a love between a man and his dog to a emotionally charged movie about a dog that waited for a man who would never come home again.

Of course I made the connection between this dog and my own circumstances. I lost a husband from cancer. I know in my mind that I will never see him again in the physical world– only through a few pictures and recordings. However, my emotions even after two years had not reached my thoughts. Last night, I knew through my body that my husband would never come home again.

I am told that it gets easier. I know it gets easier. I don’t get faced with these thoughts every hour of every day like the first year. I actually laughed a few months ago.

How long did I cry? Enough that my sinuses were clogged and I couldn’t breath. Enough that I was numb. Is this a catharsis?

“The movie was based on the real Hachikō, who was born in Ōdate in 1923. After the death of his owner, Hidesaburō Ueno in 1925, Hachikō returned to the Shibuya train station the next day and every day after that for the next nine years until he died in March 1935. A bronze statue of Hachikō is in front of the Shibuya train station in his honor.” Wikipedia

 

The dog is sleeping

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So as much as I think my words are exciting and my stories are fun, the dog has other plans. Foxy sleeps as I struggle with words, scenes, and characters. I am tempted to get off this chair and walk into the other room. She will sigh heavily as if I am interrupting her sleep time, and then she will follow me out of the room.

I am fortunate that I can have a writing room. When I am finished using the computer, I shut the door. This room is only for my projects, which include my novels. Unlike the other apartment, I don’t have a mirror staring at me. It made me very conscious as if someone was staring at me as I wrote my thousand words.

I am learning to appreciate that I can walk and talk. I have met others who are so bound in their minds and bodies that I look healthy beside them. I still have Stage 4 kidney disease. I will always have a Vasculitis disease and I will be in pain for the rest of my days. I am still able to smile and appreciate a little doggy who sits on my lap when I watch movies or who wakes me in the morning when I sleep too long.

So the main purpose of this blog is to tell you that I have finished writing and editing “Dragon Boy.” Once it is back from the Beta readers, I will do the final publishing– ebook and digital. I learned several years ago that some of you do want to have an actual book instead of just ones and zeros.

I started the third book in this series called “Unlicensed Sorceress,” which will be Hilda’s introduction to city politics and regulation. I assure you that she will not be happy.

Since I am only on Chapter two, I can’t give you more details. Let us say that the story hasn’t completely unfolded to me either.

May you have a great holiday season and a Happy New Year.

May you get all the rest you need to succeed.

May you receive success and joy throughout 2017.

Here comes the sun

DSC00632 It has been a wild ride this last month. This weekend my brother and nephews (a few honorary nephews) helped move the last of my stuff into my new apartment. This includes my tables, chairs and recliner. I have boxes above my eyeballs in the living room and gradually I will be opening them and putting them away.

I thought I had gotten rid of a lot of stuff, but obviously I have more than I expected. So I will continue to wean until I get down to one-person land again. I still miss Otto and always will.

Foxy is settling in. She is having to share her doggy land with other chihuahuas. I was told that there is a doggy park just down the road. When I am more settled, I’ll take her there. It was great to see an almost 80 year old man, walking with a walker, and a dog walking by his side. Almost everyone here has a support dog.

I want to mention the help and encouragement I received to get through all of this trauma that seemed to be following me around this month. I had some friends who would take me away from the stress and either feed me or take me to the movies. These breaks really helped me to refocus on what I needed to do next.

Also I want to thank my brother who supported me all the way especially when I needed to get the heavy stuff moved. Almost everything is too heavy for me to lift anymore.

To Jolie who contacted me and offered to help with the cleaning. I couldn’t have finished all of that yesterday without her help. She also showed me that the cleaning I had been doing as I packed actually made the last of the cleaning easier to do. In my mind it was a monster and she reduced it to a mouse.

So I still have a lot to do with unpacking. I am stiff and sore today so I think I will take a break from it. I am setting up my writing room again. I feel like I’m home.

Fog brain and it has nothing to do with my disease

So last night, I was reading in my bed to relax a little for sleep. My chihuahua, Foxy, was fast asleep and having no problems with the sleep gremlins. I put down my book (well, kindle exactly) and closed my eyes.

My eyes popped open, all by themselves, and I reached for the kindle again and read until the last word. I am not telling you the title… just go to Simon R Green and read a bit.

The point is there are books that the characters are so real that they catch our imagination and drag us back into that world.  Now for a mini-rant. I tried to watch a bit of TV this last week. My sweet pup hurt her paw and needed cuddles to feel better so I watched what was on the tube. I am not too impressed. One of my favorite shows has taken the main character and twisted her into this person who doesn’t take orders, who doesn’t listen to advice, and screws up all her personal relationships. It doesn’t matter to me that she was raised as an adopted daughter in a loving home. Some of us have had worse beginnings. *rant over.

So I am finding that I really dislike most of the comedy TV shows and now some of the crime shows that used to be my staple when I was watching TV. So what has happened?

I like story. I like to get involved in a story that grips me and won’t let go. The Brits have some really good shows that have gripped me to the point that I took three days out of my life to just watch them. (Berkley Circle).

So what is the difference? When I am in the middle of the story, I don’t want to be bothered with overt messages. Let me mention one: Gamergate. So what, I enjoy the occasional game. I have been to tournaments and watched the guys (and a couple of girls) play. I have never been treated as an object. So that little episode  was enough to take me away from a show that I had watched for years.

I also notice that military men are the target of shows now. That hits a real hot button  for me because both my late-husband and I served in the Navy. My late-hubby was a Vietnam combat vet. May he rest in peace. Isn’t it enough that so many of these men and women are coming home broken? Do we need to turn them into the bad guys as well?

So messages– should be kept in the background and should be in service to the story… never the story.

Gray slush… I don’t like stories that have no plot. No clear hero. Yes, a hero will have some weaknesses… but to make them an anti-hero over and over? The only group I know that has made successful anti-heroes lately is Marvel– Constantine, Daredevil, etc.

This also includes angst. When there is too much, I refuse to finish the movie or show. Plus no plot or story… There is no point in watching.

I find books are the same. Give me story, give me plot, and give me a hero that will overcome and make the world better in some way even if it is his own family, lawn, or corner of the coffee shop.

(I used his as a universal pronoun as it has been used since language– no genderless pronouns here as well.)

If you write a transgender who is more interested in being a good guy and girl, in a good story, heck yes, I would read that. If it is another woe is me story… it get’s thrown through the TV.

So get writing boys and girls. I’ll be doing my best to write a good story as well.