If you read this book in high school and hated it, I suggest you re-read it. I was captivated by the struggle of both the monster and his creator. Were the prose dated? Of course. As readers and lovers of the journey the written word leads us on, we must embrace the masters of the past to recognize the genius of the present. The rhythm will become familiar as you open your mind to the a simpler time before iPads and the internet. Don't worry. These things will still be here when you put the book down. You may even enjoy stepping back in time for a bit. I certainly did.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
The Holiday Party (A work of fiction loosely based on actual events)
Another sleepless night. Samantha tossed and turned trying to
fight the day’s events that replayed in her head. Counting sheep, such a waste
of time. What did her manager mean when he said at the end of the workday,
"You are a difficult employee to manage." The comment struck a
sensitive nerve leaving her crushed and depressed. Her only response was,
"You couldn't wait to tell me that until after the Holiday Party? Thanks a
lot." Of course, that's what he was like. Thoughtless.
Stress me out some more why don’t you? She thought as she shifted in bed for the twentieth time. Bad enough annual reviews were soon. Usually the meeting with the boss was casual. Now Samantha had to have a strategic defense ready. And of course there was the Firm’s Holiday Dinner Party, an annual event that was more an obligation than anything else. Sleep, finally. Thank you Lord for Amaretto.
The office was decorated with holiday trim. Everyone seemed to twinkle in an effort to not be outdone by garland and lights. Some wore sequence, others spiced up simple black with cubic zirconia gems that dangled from necks and earlobes. Although her Holiday spirit was dimmed, Samantha put on a smile dressed in a new shade of lip gloss, Holiday Berry, which matched her new cocktail dress.
The hours leading up to the Dinner Party, were uncomfortable to say the least. She was never very good at hiding her emotions, especially from Mary. Although Samantha did not vent this incident, (why drag others down) she could hear Mary’s voice. Look where it's coming from. After all this time you should know how Russell is.
This was an all time low. Samantha thought, How can I get out of this? Say I’m sick and just go home? That however, would only add to the drama. People talk in this small office. Before you know it everyone will be whispering around the water cooler. Samantha thought it over and decided to suck it up and just keep her distance, that’s all.
Quarter to three, time to go. The office emptied like a well rehearsed show. Chatter, laughter and the clicking of heals echoed in the atrium as they headed towards the main entrance. Freshly applied perfume wafted in the air. The boss always picked a five star establishment for the party and everyone tried their best to embrace the upper-crust attitude. She watched as her co-workers piled into their cars; start your engines. The roar of motors started in unison and the caravan began. Samantha giggled. All that was needed was a hearse and headlights.
Samantha lit a cigarette. It would be a while before she could smoke again. She drew heavily on the smelly addiction making sure the wind carried the offending smoke in the opposite direction. Her co-workers had an opinion about everything and the evils of smoking was top on the list. Her conscious whispered, life would be so much easier without this ball and chain. She tried to quit many times. Yet, there was nothing on Earth that calmed her nerves like a smoke. Samantha took her last drag and hunted for the Purel and mints in her bag. It was time to go.
Samantha was the last to join the group that had gathered in the large bar area. Everyone already had flutes of sparking champagne in hand in preparation for the toast. Yes, this was a party group. Without missing a beat the waitress handed Samantha hers. The boss’ eyes glanced her way. Yup, we’re all here. He began a slightly different yet familiar speech. Glasses clinked and camera’s flashed to capture the moment as Holiday music played softly. The party officially started. An array of appetizers, mini pigs in a blanket, chicken on a stick, shrimp, to name a few, were carried on pretty trays by white gloved servers who could easily weave in and out of our little group. Yes, it was planned perfectly as always, right down to tipping the valets and the coat checker.
More drinks, more laughter, more pictures. Things were going well. Samantha was melting into the Holiday spirit. She even joined in the traditional singing of Christmas carols. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir they were not, even with printed lyrics in hand. It was sweet. She even smiled brightly in pictures with Russell. But, there was no way she would sit next to him at dinner. She wasn’t that tolerant.
Again, white gloved waiters made their stops around the elegant table, answering questions about the meal choices and taking orders. The exotic menu listed entrées that excited everyone. It was Samantha’s turn, “I’ll have the prime rib, thank you.” It was a safe bet. Russell sat diagonally across from Samantha. He and Mary were chatting away as was everyone else. It was the usual cacophony of voices until dinners were served. It was only for a brief silence as first few bites prompted discussions and taste swapping of meal choices.The rack of lamb won out.
The night was coming to a close. Desserts, to accompany your choice of coffee, espresso, cappuccino, or tea, were just as exotic. Who had room? Apparently, everyone. The array was magnificent. It wasn’t the first time this group rolled out of their seats. It was a repeat performance for most. This was Samantha’s third tour. Question was, who would start the ball rolling? Tom, of course. He was the only other smoker in the office. He must be dying for a butt as much as Samantha was. Like on cue, the group started to rise and say their good nights. After all, tomorrow is business as usual.
And that is was. Of course the morning brought about some carryover talk of the party. By 10 am each employee was busy with their work only taking small breaks to e-mail pictures of the previous night’s festivities. Samantha of course had her work scheduled and files were sorted in order of importance. Her calendar had phone appointments scheduled as well. She was still a bit flustered by the accusations Russell had made. There was nothing she could think of that would have prompted him to reprimand her.
Samantha gathered her composure. She hated confrontations. In her mind this matter had to be resolved. She crossed the hall to Russell’s office, entered and closed the door. “I need to speak to you about the other day. What did you mean when you said I’m a difficult employee to manage?”
Russell paused a moment as if to search for words. “What I meant was that you seem to have everything under control. And because of that I don’t know exactly my function as your manager.” Samantha took a breath trying to understand his problem.
He continued. “With the other staff members I would assign every task. I knew exactly what everyone was doing. You on the other hand take the initiative and I don’t know what you’re working on until I ask.”
This explanation struck Samantha rather funny. She suppressed the urge to laugh. “I see. Well, when I was hired it was understood that I filled a senior position even though the title doesn’t represent it. That’s how it was explained to me. I’ve always managed myself in previous jobs. That’s how I work. I didn’t know you had a problem with that.”
“It’s not that I have any problems with your work. Russell explained. It’s just that if the boss should ask about the work flow I don’t want to be caught off guard.”
Stress me out some more why don’t you? She thought as she shifted in bed for the twentieth time. Bad enough annual reviews were soon. Usually the meeting with the boss was casual. Now Samantha had to have a strategic defense ready. And of course there was the Firm’s Holiday Dinner Party, an annual event that was more an obligation than anything else. Sleep, finally. Thank you Lord for Amaretto.
The office was decorated with holiday trim. Everyone seemed to twinkle in an effort to not be outdone by garland and lights. Some wore sequence, others spiced up simple black with cubic zirconia gems that dangled from necks and earlobes. Although her Holiday spirit was dimmed, Samantha put on a smile dressed in a new shade of lip gloss, Holiday Berry, which matched her new cocktail dress.
The hours leading up to the Dinner Party, were uncomfortable to say the least. She was never very good at hiding her emotions, especially from Mary. Although Samantha did not vent this incident, (why drag others down) she could hear Mary’s voice. Look where it's coming from. After all this time you should know how Russell is.
This was an all time low. Samantha thought, How can I get out of this? Say I’m sick and just go home? That however, would only add to the drama. People talk in this small office. Before you know it everyone will be whispering around the water cooler. Samantha thought it over and decided to suck it up and just keep her distance, that’s all.
Quarter to three, time to go. The office emptied like a well rehearsed show. Chatter, laughter and the clicking of heals echoed in the atrium as they headed towards the main entrance. Freshly applied perfume wafted in the air. The boss always picked a five star establishment for the party and everyone tried their best to embrace the upper-crust attitude. She watched as her co-workers piled into their cars; start your engines. The roar of motors started in unison and the caravan began. Samantha giggled. All that was needed was a hearse and headlights.
Samantha lit a cigarette. It would be a while before she could smoke again. She drew heavily on the smelly addiction making sure the wind carried the offending smoke in the opposite direction. Her co-workers had an opinion about everything and the evils of smoking was top on the list. Her conscious whispered, life would be so much easier without this ball and chain. She tried to quit many times. Yet, there was nothing on Earth that calmed her nerves like a smoke. Samantha took her last drag and hunted for the Purel and mints in her bag. It was time to go.
Samantha was the last to join the group that had gathered in the large bar area. Everyone already had flutes of sparking champagne in hand in preparation for the toast. Yes, this was a party group. Without missing a beat the waitress handed Samantha hers. The boss’ eyes glanced her way. Yup, we’re all here. He began a slightly different yet familiar speech. Glasses clinked and camera’s flashed to capture the moment as Holiday music played softly. The party officially started. An array of appetizers, mini pigs in a blanket, chicken on a stick, shrimp, to name a few, were carried on pretty trays by white gloved servers who could easily weave in and out of our little group. Yes, it was planned perfectly as always, right down to tipping the valets and the coat checker.
More drinks, more laughter, more pictures. Things were going well. Samantha was melting into the Holiday spirit. She even joined in the traditional singing of Christmas carols. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir they were not, even with printed lyrics in hand. It was sweet. She even smiled brightly in pictures with Russell. But, there was no way she would sit next to him at dinner. She wasn’t that tolerant.
Again, white gloved waiters made their stops around the elegant table, answering questions about the meal choices and taking orders. The exotic menu listed entrées that excited everyone. It was Samantha’s turn, “I’ll have the prime rib, thank you.” It was a safe bet. Russell sat diagonally across from Samantha. He and Mary were chatting away as was everyone else. It was the usual cacophony of voices until dinners were served. It was only for a brief silence as first few bites prompted discussions and taste swapping of meal choices.The rack of lamb won out.
The night was coming to a close. Desserts, to accompany your choice of coffee, espresso, cappuccino, or tea, were just as exotic. Who had room? Apparently, everyone. The array was magnificent. It wasn’t the first time this group rolled out of their seats. It was a repeat performance for most. This was Samantha’s third tour. Question was, who would start the ball rolling? Tom, of course. He was the only other smoker in the office. He must be dying for a butt as much as Samantha was. Like on cue, the group started to rise and say their good nights. After all, tomorrow is business as usual.
And that is was. Of course the morning brought about some carryover talk of the party. By 10 am each employee was busy with their work only taking small breaks to e-mail pictures of the previous night’s festivities. Samantha of course had her work scheduled and files were sorted in order of importance. Her calendar had phone appointments scheduled as well. She was still a bit flustered by the accusations Russell had made. There was nothing she could think of that would have prompted him to reprimand her.
Samantha gathered her composure. She hated confrontations. In her mind this matter had to be resolved. She crossed the hall to Russell’s office, entered and closed the door. “I need to speak to you about the other day. What did you mean when you said I’m a difficult employee to manage?”
Russell paused a moment as if to search for words. “What I meant was that you seem to have everything under control. And because of that I don’t know exactly my function as your manager.” Samantha took a breath trying to understand his problem.
He continued. “With the other staff members I would assign every task. I knew exactly what everyone was doing. You on the other hand take the initiative and I don’t know what you’re working on until I ask.”
This explanation struck Samantha rather funny. She suppressed the urge to laugh. “I see. Well, when I was hired it was understood that I filled a senior position even though the title doesn’t represent it. That’s how it was explained to me. I’ve always managed myself in previous jobs. That’s how I work. I didn’t know you had a problem with that.”
“It’s not that I have any problems with your work. Russell explained. It’s just that if the boss should ask about the work flow I don’t want to be caught off guard.”
“Okay, I got it. I’ll make an effort to give you a status report. Samantha said. I really wish you would have explained your problem.”
“Well, now we understand each other. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No problem, Russell. Well, back to work.”
Friday, May 9, 2014
Crushing the Addiction
It
really isn't hard to write. I'm not talking about an epic novel or screenplay.
Those are hard. But something that's on your mind for the moment shouldn't be
so difficult especially if you have a computer with a word program or Facebook
notes :) So today I want to write about addiction. Thankfully, for me it's only
Candy Crush. But still, I have found that this popular pass time has consumed
me more than any other silly app out there. I've tried a few but CC is a
tough nut to crack. I bet it will be tougher than quitting smoking.
Yes, I
have an addictive nature. But I also know that once I overcome said addiction,
I'm done. No going back. The gratification I got from smoking was really
a chemical substitute for something deeper. It was a cheap, not really,
substitute for emotional control. I smoked when I was frustrated believing that
it calmed my nerves. I smoked to be social and back in the day to be cool. It
became a time keeper in my career, like a reward that I accomplished a task and
now it was time for a smoke break with my buddies. Yes, it is a chemical
addiction that is hard to break. But, the emotional bond is even harder to let
go of. I can attest to this because I finally kicked the habit for good when I
was laid off in 2010. The social aspect of smoking was gone.
Now, I
see all those anti-smoking commercials and they scare the crap out of me. I ask
can I still succumb to those diseases? Can I still lose fingers and toes or be
tethered to an oxygen machine when I'm older? God, I pray not, from my heart to
his ears...let's play Candy Crush. See what I mean? It's just like
smoking. The satisfaction of moving on to the next level is almost cathartic.
"I did it, ha stupid game. That all ya got?" Well, I just
completed episode 20. I didn't even realize the levels were called episodes
until I decided not to play anymore and, more importantly, to put my commitment
in writing. Yup, this is a contract with myself to put my time to better use.
And if you still believe that Candy Crush (or any of the other games out there)
is harmless you can check
this out.
I found
that site to be very informative not only because it was written by a fellow
sufferer with symptoms that I can identify with but for the tone and insights
he offers.
Wish me
luck as I walk this road and add Candy Crush to my list of conquests. It won’t
be easy. Candy Crush is at your fingertips anytime anywhere as compared to
jumping in the car to pick up a pack of smokes (or candy).
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