Saturday, September 29, 2007
So it was with interest that I encountered Supernatural fan fiction. A friend of mine wrote a story based on the characters of our favorite show and asked me to read it. She sent me the link to her story on www.fanfiction.net and I read it. I enjoyed it. It helped that I already knew the characters and I could once again allow my imagination to take hold and run the story as a visual episode in my head. It was also delightful because I knew the person who had written the story.
Then my curiosity got the better of me ... here is this website containing stories of the Winchesters - John, Dean and Sam. I thought to myself that this could be an easy way to pass some time, particularly when we were in a hiatus period. I could read the stories and allow my imagination to take me with it back to the Supernatural world. So I began clicking around the site and checked some of the other stories out.
And in the process, I learned a few things.
First ... not all fan fiction is created equal. I became immediately critical of grammer, spelling, and story telling. There are some that are really good and there are some that are ... well, not.
Second ... I found I couldn't read stories that join in with the current timeline. I just couldn't. If I geot sucked into the story and it played out in my imagination, it then became a part of the series in my brain. I couldn't flip a switch. Because if the writing was well done and my imagination visualized these characters I know so well, I would begin to believe that this story should be a part of the series. I didn't want that. I wanted to enjoy Eric Kripke's series as HE presented it, not as others tried to represent it.
So, with these two realizations, I decided to remove myself from reading fan fiction (with the exception of a few pieces written by some of my virtual friends) and to keep the series "Kripke Pure" in my brain.
Then I was encouraged to read a fan fic by a friend who understood my dilemma but thought that she had something I would truly enjoy. With a simple click and the sweetest of stories, I discovered what is called WeeChester fan fic. Stories written from fans imaginations about the time prior to the series, the time when Dean and Sammy Winchester were growing up with their father, the ex-marine hunter, traveling the back roads of America and learning about things that go bump in the night. These stories I can read and enjoy because they don't change what I see in my head as I watch the program that Kripke has created. There's still some that are really good and some that ... well, aren't. I can navigate around that. However, it is fun to think about how it all started for Dean and Sam and imagine their life on the road with BDW.
Now ... what exactly does all this have to do with a service contractor's life being saved, you ask?
Well, here's the thing. Friday morning I had some extra time before heading to work. Having not really been on the computer much during the previous week just for fun, I decided to check out the fan fic and see if there was anything short to start my day off with a WeeChester smile on my face. I came across one that I hadn't read before that was written by an author whose writing I enjoy. I brewed another mug of tea and took 30 minutes to just enjoy before heading into what turned out to be a rather hectic day. It was a precious story, set at a time when Dean was eleven and Sammy was not quite yet seven. A story of a father who makes mistakes but loves his boys with all his heart.
It was wonderful and I continued thinking about it as I drove to the office and began my work day which included a visit from a service contractor work man who has a tendency to absolutely make me crazy (not in a good way) with his condescending attitude. Plus the fact that where he had to work invaded my personal space but due to the work I was doing, I couldn't move somewhere else. After an hour of putting up with his proximity and his attitude and his ... well ... just being there ... I began having the most delightful dreams of how to put him out of my misery.
Have I mentioned my imagination? It's good in this area too.
Just as I was contemplating a particularly wicked thought of what to do with my calculator the strains of AC/DC's "Back in Black" come ringing out of his pocket instantly switching my imagination to visualize the Winchester's Impala driving up the road. Answering his phone I could hear the voice of his child's teacher telling him of a situation with his son ... his six year old son. (Did I mention the proximity of him invading my personal space? I wasn't eavesdropping ... I was sitting that close and his volume was that loud.) Having his child put on the phone and hearing his fatherly voice talk so calmly to a clearly sad and upset little boy, I sat there quietly remembering the wonderful story I read that morning.
Art and Life were imitating each other.
For in Art, the author had painted a picture in my mind of the John we all know - a man who drove us insane with his marine tactic attitude but ultimately charmed us with the obvious love he had for his sons and his desire to protect them.
For in Life, I dealt with a man whose condescension and invasion made me consider mahem upon him before he ultimately charmed me with the obvious love he had for his son and his desire to make everything alright for him.
*** If you're interested in the WeeChester story I so enjoyed you can read it HERE. ***
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.
O beautiful, for pilgrim feet
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw;
Confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law!
O beautiful, for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine,
'Til all success be nobleness, and ev'ry gain divine!
O beautiful, for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years,
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!
I have found during the last six years that this day, almost more than the Fourth of July, means more to me in regards to American Freedom. Perhaps if I had lived during the Revolutionary War it would be different.
I lived through this day six years ago. While I was in Oklahoma and not directly involved, it affected me and those around me. My heart and soul were wrenched as I, along with the rest of the world, watched in horror. My words cannot adequately convey my feelings that ran rampant during that day and the days afterwards.
Since then I continue to give thanks for the continued safety and freedom that we are blessed with in this country and I give thanks to the men and women who actively serve our country to keep us free.
Friday, September 7, 2007
This morning I woke to rain and thought of All Hell Breaks Loose.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
I woke up in a Supernatural mood this morning. It's a rainy, dreary morning. The kind of rain that just keeps coming and coming and coming. It made me think of the rain that seemed to be so present in the episode, All Hell Breaks Loose, Pt. 1. The scene at the diner, the scene with Dean & Bobby, and even though it didn't rain on Sam while he was trapped in the demon ghost town of Coldwater Creek, the sky seemed to always look like it was ready to drizzle a good one.
So, as I sit and watch the drizzle of liquid escaping the sky, my thoughts are on Dean and Sam Winchester and what they will encounter in tonight's episode. I don't want to watch it. I'll be honest ... since I watched and posted my TVG blog about this episode ... I haven't watched it. I couldn't. These last three episodes rend my heart for the emotions that are packed inside are incredible. The highs, the lows and everything in between.
I keep telling myself that I don't need to watch tonight. It's not like I don't have it on video tape and iTunes. I could simply wait until next week and watch both parts back to back (cause there would be no end to the heartache doing that, now, would there?) and be done with it. I could wait and watch it on my new Season 2 dvd set that I will be getting next Tuesday and perhaps if I listen to the commentary as I watch it, it won't take my heart, raise it through my throat, choking all air from going out or coming in, then for extra measure throw that heart of mine and stomp upon it with hard workman's boots. Perhaps the commentary will keep me detached.
Everyone who knows me and honestly believes that ... please come on over ... I have some newly developed swampland in Arizona to sell to you.
You know I will be watching tonight. My mind will scream no as my hand reaches for the remote. It's inevitable for the Supernatural Obsessive. I'll tell you something else. I won't be wandering the room or working on something else. I'll be perched, right there on the couch, watching, being sucked in, knowing in that spot in the back of my head what is coming and still being unable to not gasp and freak when it occurs.
Now if you will please excuse me. If I'm going to have this type of obsessive thought process this morning then I'm going to do the only sensible thing I can do. Instead of standing at the window looking out at the drizzle, I'm going to go stand in it. If Jensen can do such an outstanding job of acting in the stuff, I can go certainly take my obsession and go outside and just stand in the stuff.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
I spread a slice of my freshly baked bread, added butter and my favorite "homemade by Mom" strawberry jam on top. Taking my freshly brewed pot of tea and my slice of warm fresh bread to my computer to catch up on some correspondence, I laughed to myself as the words from the song "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" from Oklahoma! came unbidden into my brain.
Wanting to enjoy the view outside once more before beginning my day, I open the curtain next to my computer and peer out to my backyard. Just as the verse of the song "the corn is as high as an elephant's eye" bursts through my brain, I view what we call the "cornstalk weeds" growing in my backyard.
Anyone have an elephant I can measure these with? Cause I gotta feeling they're taller than an elephant's eye. Great!