How Stephen King changed my life

Stephen King signature.

Stephen King signature. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There are only a handful of people who have really influenced my life in lasting ways.  My grandmother, Judy Chadwick Clarke, tops the list.  After family, there’s President Bill Clinton (you cannot work for someone as long as I worked for him and not be impacted — for the much better).  Probably Senator Dianne Feinstein (D-Ca) — my first job out of college was working for her, as I have said before.  Many of the people who have made an impression did so during adulthood so their contribution was limited in some respects.

The same cannot be said of Stephen King.  His contribution changed the entire trajectory of my life and  made my current career possible.  Thank you, Mr. King.

My family is made up of a lot of readers.  Percentage wise, I think there are more librarians than any other profession but that could be a skewed view based on Judy (I always called my grandmother by her first name), who was one.  Even the non-librarians read and as things are, I am the least educated member of my family (BA in French from Stony Brook University, pre-med certificate from Georgetown) — unless you consider my cousin Abbie’s child Knut and he is a baby.  I am pretty sure he has at least a maters in something by now.  Probably particle physics or economics.

If you are thinking, wow, you sure are lazy compared to them.  Yeah, I am.  That goes way back.  When I was in elementary school I hated to do any schoolwork and dreaded reading.  Not because I didn’t like to read but the drivel they gave me bored me to tears and if you’ve read my posts about the wonderful adventure that was my childhood, you understand that I had enough to cry about without letting shitty books do it.  So, I never read anything they gave me.  This, in turn, made the school think I couldn’t read and it was not an idea I was in any hurry to disuade them from.  They put me in the reading class basically for kids who should have been drooling in the corner.  I don’t think I did any homework for at least a year, maybe two.

In retrospect, I am not sure how the educators at my school were so oblivious– and the Three Village School District where I went is considered a really good one.  Look it up.  While you’re at it, look up the Wikipedia entry for Stony Brook the town.  You’ll see a familiar name under “famous people from here.”  Kevin James went to my high school (graduated before me).  But the name I am talking about, of course, is mine.  My parents were divorcing and that just wasn’t done back then.  Plus there was the whole fake kidnapping issue that my father kept harping about (the time my mom took me to Iceland for the summer and he said I had been kidnapped) and maybe they just didn’t want to deal with me.  It was easier to just let me do my think, whatever the hell that was, than actually pay some attention.  I sound bitter – and I am about a lot of things but this isn’t one of them.  I didn’t bother them (much) and they didn’t bother me (much).

Meanwhile, I went on reading and learning in my own way.  I liked to read quite a bit.  On one visit

Stephen King, American author best known for h...

Stephen King, American author best known for his enormously popular horror novels. King was the 2003 recipient of The National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. Taken at the 2007 New York Comicon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

with my mother I begged her to buy me a Stephen King book — The Shining.  She did, after making me promise to read Agatha Christie, which I never did and never have.  Those books bore me, too.  And if you are an Agatha Christie fan, save your hate tweets and emails (or don’t, I love getting hate mail), just not gonna get into it now.

Anyway, I was all about Stephen King.  As soon as I would finish one book, my mom would send another (side note, if you really want to get the full horror effect of ‘Salem’s Lot, read it by candle light under the skylight in your attic bedroom after a hurricane has knocked out the power to your town.  Seriously.  I hung garlic and crosses around my room for months.  Damn vampires aren’t getting to me that easy.  Fuckers.).

This Stephen King obsession began when I was in the fifth grade.  I think it was that first book, The Shining, that I brought to school.  My terrified teacher, and I wish I could remember her name because she was the first I ever had who took an actual interest in my work and me, asked What are you doing with that book?!?!  I like to think I answered something smart-assy like, Well, I am not burning it, if that’s what you’re asking.  I am not sure that’s what I said or not but it sounds like me, so what the hell?  That’s what I said.  And unless you were there, bite me.

In any case, that caused quite the stir as the school realized that I wasn’t as dumb as a box of rocks (that would come later, like now).  They moved me into the second highest reading level, which pissed me off at the time because there was actual work in  that class.   The class also introduced me to creative writing, which is a passion I have pursued ever since.  I have not left home without a pen and notebook since I was 11.  If you ever see me on the street, you can ask if I have one.  I do.  Don’t take my word for it.  By the time I got to high school, I was a pretty decent fiction writer — a persona I am desperately trying to recapture — and my teachers did wonders to nurture that in me.  I remain grateful to them as well.

The writing bug was not the only things Stephen King gave me.  His books did more to help me survive certain really bad years of my life than anything else.  Therapy (individual and family) didn’t do it.  While I have the honest hat on, I think part of the appeal of his books was I was able to confront demons in his fiction that I couldn’t in my real life.  Violence wasn’t an abstract concept for me back then, it was never more than a heart beat away.  Reading books like It let me fight back and win, every time.

Much of my professional career has included a lot of writing; press releases/statements, talking points,  briefing materials, blog posts, op-eds, newsletters, whatever press materials need to be produced — I have produced them.  In addition, I have maintained this brilliant blog for at least five years (I think, I could be wrong, I have been hit on the head a lot and am too lazy to look that up).  In 2011, I started getting paid to write political satire for the site www.pardonthepundit.com — the first time I have ever been paid for comic writing of any kind.  I also write and perform stand-up comedy throughout Washington, DC and New York City.  The only other thing that I can do in such a public manner that I like almost as much is karaoke, which is one of the most awesome things.  I may break into Don’t stop believing right now.  I am at work so I won’t but you get the idea.

The only productive things I did as a kid really were read, write and work on campaigns.  None of that prevented me from spending the latter part of my teens doing way more drugs and alcohol that I should have (and I am still surprised that I am still alive, I have to be on life 8.5 by now) but when I left the abusive situation, all of that stopped and the positives in my life took the place of the negatives.  I can only imagine where I would have ended up had I never brought that book to school.  I would probably have stayed in that class for idiots and then when I discovered drugs and alcohol, that’s all I would have had and I would probably still be on Long Island.  My mind cannot even grasp how awesome that life would have been.

Thank you, Stephen King.  You really changed my life and I will never get to thank you enough.

PS.  The second best book on writing, after The Elements of Style, of course, is Stephen King’s On Writing.  I would also like to add that even as a kid, I LOVED his introductions.  They rock.

Hi, I’m Alyson, I’m friendly

Fore!

Fore! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you have met me in person, this will not surprise you.  If you have read anything about me — like my LOVE of karaoke and stand-up comedy, you will not be surprised either.  Everyone else, sorry.

I am an extrovert.  I am also a Leo and a redhead and a New Yorker so the extrovert part should be a given (I had a boss who after working with me for over a year thought I was the opposite but he was pretty self-absorbed).  When I was a kid, when I met people I would say, “Hi.  I’m Alyson and I’m friendly.”  Both those things were true.  I suppose I would have to amend that to “Hi, I am Alyson and usually I am friendly but sometimes I am a huge bitch so watch your fucking step” now but I have just stopped announcing my intentions so casually.  There should some damn mystery to me after all.

There is one other thing I used to do.  Serenade people on the street.  That’s right, I sang to strangers.  All the time.  If I was walking somewhere and someone was stopped at a light or a sign or on the side or the road or whatever, I sang to them.  My favorite song to sing was — and yes, I am serious and no I have no idea why I picked this song, Huey Lewis‘ “If this is it.”

I’ve been phoning night and morning
I heard you say “tell him I’m not home”
Now you’re confessing, But I’m still guessing
I’ve been your fool for so so long
Girl don’t lie, just to save my feelings
Girl don’t cry, and tell me nothing’s wrong
Girl don’t try to make up phony reasons
I’d rather leave than never believe

Now, thanks to Glee, I have rediscovered my love of song (and despite the people who at karaoke who SWORE my voice is “good” I am aware of how loosely I am using that term).  It started with me screeching along to the show.  It continued with me doing karaoke — totally sober — it is not fair to the universe to keep my serious gift of song to myself and the people lucky enough to live near me.  Now I may be on the verge of taking this a little too far.  Not that the idea of “taking something too far” has ever stopped me from doing anything so there is little to suggest this will be any different.  I have found myself singing along to my iPod.  I am sure that makes me look all too sane on the street because that’s where I do it.  All the time.

To indulge my extroverted nature even more, I am going to start working (playing?) with a local performance art group — Cloudism — I am going to suggest we do a flash mob thing with song à la Glee.  Like maybe we get musicians to join in and we just start singing Don’t stop believing to unsuspecting people in Dupont Circle or on the Mall?

Just don’t be surprised if a strange redhead serenades you in Washington, DC or NYC.  It might happen.  But don’t worry.  I don’t bite.

Guest blogger: I am a cat and damnit, I am cranky

Guest blogger:  Hobbes the cat

I am a cat and right now I am pretty fucking pissed off.

For years, I have just dealt with it when I heard how “finicky” cats are, how the people we live with are “crazy cat people” and how we make people sneeze.  I have put up with all of these insults and innuendo but now CNN has just pushed me a stroke too damn far.  That’s right CNN, and you know my buttons really have to be pushed when I stoop to blogging at the bottom of the barrel “news” outlet that is CNN.  I would do a better job of hosting news shows than some of the clowns you hire.  Seriously, one woman told Budget Chairman Ryan that she “didn’t want to get into a numbers game with him.”  Jesus Christ, I am a freaking house cat and I know BUDGETS ARE MADE UP  OF NUMBERS.

But even that crap didn’t piss me off as much as this:http://www.cnn.com/2011/LIVING/05/14/why.cats.bite.mnn/index.html?hpt=C2

What the hell?  I don’t have the same right to personal space as everyone else?  Sure, I appreciate the affection and love but they go out all day — sometimes I get left for DAYS and then they come home and I need to be all instantly in the mood?  What if I was sleeping?  Do you know how tiring my life is?

And to add insult to injury, why is it that everyone thinks all cats are girls?  Do I look like a girl to you?  Do I?  Do I?

Yes, yes I do.  Do you know why?  Because one one winter day several years ago, the people I live with cut my balls off.  That’s right.  Just took me away and had it done.  Did they say boo about it?  No, they did not.  Did they ask if I was ok with it?  No, they did not.  I went to sleep and woke a little lighter.  And really fucking sore.  Bastards.

Pre-castration kittyNote the before and after photos.  The photo on the left is what I had as a kitten.

Four year old cats should not be in this state.

Ok, this isn’t the easiest picture to make out but do you know hard it is for cat to take of photo of this? Take my word for it, it is a sad state of affairs.

The right is what I carry around now.  I am four years old.  Seriously, if you cannot see a size difference there, you are not looking.

Ok, that first photo is actually the kitten that lives here now, but it could be me.  You don’t know what I looked like when I was a kitten, I didn’t know I needed to take photos to prove the size of my junk.

Do you see why maybe we don’t always feel like snuggling when you get home from work?  We are proud animals.  We deserve some fucking respect.  And hop to with the litter box, I am no fucking mood to smell my own pee

You won’t want to miss this

Tonight, some of the best DC area comedians will perform at the Velvet Lounge.  They include:

Emily Ruskowski – will also host
Valerie Paschall
Mariya Alexander
Tyler Richardson
Alyson Chadwick
Pete Bergen

You won’t get to see this much talent for $10 any other time.  Seriously.

The Velvet Lounge is at 915 U Street, NW — across from the U Street Metro.  This starts early (at 7) but probably won’t start on time so if you can come but will be late, no worries.

The money is going to a good cause, you can read about that here: http://www.facebook.com/events/367174039967984/

Things I do on purpose

speaking at CPAC in Washington D.C. on Februar...

Image via Wikipedia

Most of my closest friends can tell you that my actions don’t always make the most sense.  Not to them or even to me.  I don’t spend as much time as I do on the treadmill for my health (really) or even to lose weight, though those are both good things.  I do it because I like to.  And once on, I cannot stop until Morning Joe is over but that is a topic for a different therapy session.

There are a few things that I love to do that I can explain, however, and they include writing and working in politics.  I connect the two because of a piece I read today about Rick Santorum‘s ad guy in the Daily Beast.  The article about John Brabender has a quote from a friend of his that says he “didn’t care if [a client] were Democrat or Republican. They could have been communists, just as long as they were able to pay the bills.”  It continues to say that Brabender is motivated more by a hatred of bad, political ads rather than a commitment to an ideology.   Both sentiments bother me but the latter got me thinking about my recent post about grammar.  I don’t write because I hate bad writing, I write because I love self expression. (And I could go on a tangent about I feel about people who define themselves by what they oppose but that is also a subject for another day.)

A few months ago, I went with a friend to see The Ides of March.  Normally, I avoid political fiction of all kinds because I like to escape my reality every now and again (it’s the reason I never liked West Wing — though I am glad I saw it because I liked it).  Once I got past my nit-pickyness about the particulars of presidential campaigns and the world of politics, I had only one real issue with the film: I felt like a prostitute when I left.  Presidential primaries are a lot like family squabbles, they may get nasty but everyone ends up on the same side at the end.  That’s always been my experience — I didn’t start the 2004 campaign working for John Kerry, for instance, but that’s where I ended up.

Campaigns are not like other employers or clients.  They consume your life for the duration.  At least that has always been my experience.  These are not 9-5, 40 hour a week jobs.  They are 24/7,” you’re on when we need you on” jobs.  I love them but the idea of working for someone that I couldn’t vote for, well it wouldn’t happen.  For the record, I know that money does motivate some people more than it does me (and that’s NOT me saying it shouldn’t).  I worked briefly at a PR firm and they wanted me to work on a project that I had serious problems with.  After a half a day of this, I ground my teeth so badly in my sleep that I broke a back molar and it had to be pulled.  I never had it replaced to remind me of how badly that job made me feel — I also quit the day after.

And I think I know what you are thinking; that I feel this way about Santorum’s “message guru” because I don’t like Santorum.  Well, I don’t like Santorum.  I think his social views are beyond extreme and his fiscal policy is absurd.  I think going to college is a good thing.  And no, I don’t think Satan is lurking behind every corner.  But I also think most people who go into politics do so because they want to make the world a better place. Read any of my pleas for civility in politics and you’ll see I make that point as often as possible.

Truthfully, reading about Brabender gives me the same feeling The Ides of March did and that’s why I don’t like him.