I've spent my life wrapped in stories...
Jan. 13th, 2005 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vivienWhen I was 11 or 12, not only was I in my first phases of my deep Tolkien love, but I was also a soap opera addict. I was a huge, avid General Hospital fan, and back in my day it was all about Luke and Laura. Now, I liked Luke and Laura just fine, but my favorite characters at the time were Alexandra Quartermaine and Victor Cassadine. I loved them as a couple, and I don't even remember why, other than the fact that they were slightly evil, but they loved each other very much. This made them far more interesting than any of the other couples.
So in this huge story arc (the Ice Princess! - bwahahaha, so lame) they were killed one day. I was stunned. I remember wandering into the kitchen, and I must've been crying because my grandmother asked me what was wrong. I told her and she looked at me, with utter disbelief, and said, "Your grandfather watched his friends die in front of him in the war. Are you telling me that you're crying over a tv show?" I remember blinking at her and stopping the crying, because she had a point. But it was sad, and it did hurt to see that particular story come to an end.
There are beginnings and endings for everything, and that goes for writing and creating, too. When you write something, you could argue that you're never really finished with it, because you could go back and rewrite as many times as you could stand it. But at some point, it's over, it's finished, and when it's done, there is relief and pride, but there is also sadness that the story is no longer unreeling in your mind.
I'm at the beginning of an end, I think, for a character I have come to adore and understand more than I ever thought possible. This is not a dramatic announcement, as his story is not done, and there is more I want to say, and more I want to explore. I will likely be playing the character for some time to come, but perhaps without the intensity as in the last few months.
Stories and imagination have made my life more "real" since I can remember falling in love with my first stories (Pippi Longstocking ruled - I so wanted to be her. And Peter Pan? Why couldn't I fly?!? We won't discuss my self-proclaimed engagement to Mickey Mouse. Really, we won't).
From my girlhood yearning to spot the unicorn in the trees while riding through twilight grayed forests to the theater stories that fueled my high school and college life and lead me to some of my oldest friends as well as my husband; from the t.v. show stories that indoctrinated me into my first internet fandom and brought me to the circle of my dearest friends to the on-line RPG I play in now that has taught me so much and lead me to people whom I hope will mean as much to me in five years as my X-Files friends do now. (Or is it six years? Jeez, I guess it has been almost six, huh, guys?)
And in between those main story points of my life, I must count my hours upon hours upon hours spent in libraries and cuddled up reading or feverishly writing to capture and tame the words before my lack of confidence brought me to a grinding halt. I've spent my life escaping into amazing worlds and seeing through the eyes and hearts of characters who became a part of me in a small way.
I never like endings - they are almost always bittersweet. But they are part of life, and sometimes, endings birth new beginnings you never dreamed of. I have the hopes now, whether I have the talent or luck, to at least consider the beginnings of original stories. And I have friends, wonderful friends, with whom I can share them.
If it weren't for stories, my life would be shallow and lackluster. Even the sad ones add to the richness.
I will always have stories, and that is such a glorious thing to count upon.
So in this huge story arc (the Ice Princess! - bwahahaha, so lame) they were killed one day. I was stunned. I remember wandering into the kitchen, and I must've been crying because my grandmother asked me what was wrong. I told her and she looked at me, with utter disbelief, and said, "Your grandfather watched his friends die in front of him in the war. Are you telling me that you're crying over a tv show?" I remember blinking at her and stopping the crying, because she had a point. But it was sad, and it did hurt to see that particular story come to an end.
There are beginnings and endings for everything, and that goes for writing and creating, too. When you write something, you could argue that you're never really finished with it, because you could go back and rewrite as many times as you could stand it. But at some point, it's over, it's finished, and when it's done, there is relief and pride, but there is also sadness that the story is no longer unreeling in your mind.
I'm at the beginning of an end, I think, for a character I have come to adore and understand more than I ever thought possible. This is not a dramatic announcement, as his story is not done, and there is more I want to say, and more I want to explore. I will likely be playing the character for some time to come, but perhaps without the intensity as in the last few months.
Stories and imagination have made my life more "real" since I can remember falling in love with my first stories (Pippi Longstocking ruled - I so wanted to be her. And Peter Pan? Why couldn't I fly?!? We won't discuss my self-proclaimed engagement to Mickey Mouse. Really, we won't).
From my girlhood yearning to spot the unicorn in the trees while riding through twilight grayed forests to the theater stories that fueled my high school and college life and lead me to some of my oldest friends as well as my husband; from the t.v. show stories that indoctrinated me into my first internet fandom and brought me to the circle of my dearest friends to the on-line RPG I play in now that has taught me so much and lead me to people whom I hope will mean as much to me in five years as my X-Files friends do now. (Or is it six years? Jeez, I guess it has been almost six, huh, guys?)
And in between those main story points of my life, I must count my hours upon hours upon hours spent in libraries and cuddled up reading or feverishly writing to capture and tame the words before my lack of confidence brought me to a grinding halt. I've spent my life escaping into amazing worlds and seeing through the eyes and hearts of characters who became a part of me in a small way.
I never like endings - they are almost always bittersweet. But they are part of life, and sometimes, endings birth new beginnings you never dreamed of. I have the hopes now, whether I have the talent or luck, to at least consider the beginnings of original stories. And I have friends, wonderful friends, with whom I can share them.
If it weren't for stories, my life would be shallow and lackluster. Even the sad ones add to the richness.
I will always have stories, and that is such a glorious thing to count upon.
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-14 02:30 pm (UTC)When you escape into the other world, be it book, TV, movie or RP, you can leave behind whatever problems you have in the real world, forget about your troubles so long as the writer's spell is woven. It's probably better for your mental health in the long run.
Stories are a vital part of life. Well, at least geek life.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-14 05:11 pm (UTC)It's so true, all of what you have said, and you worded it so eloquently that I'm not even going to try to add to it.