Stephen King and Hearts in Atlantis
You can be talking with serious people and watch their eyes change when they find you read Stephen King. I refuse to back down. Yep, I read Stephen King. I think he is a brilliant author, some books better than others, but when I am reading, sometimes I can feel my blood move faster through my veins as I wait for a life-threatening situation to resolve itself.
I can trust Stephen King. He taps into who we really are. I can also trust that most of the good guys will still be standing at the end, and most of the bad guys will meet a truly horrible and well-deserved death. I can trust that when bad things happen to good people, other good people will gather round, band together and the gestalt of all that willingness to help one another will prevail against the darkness.
The scariest book I ever read by Stephen King didn’t have any monsters, per se. It didn’t have the Walking Man, or any Wolves of Calla or any great evil, other than the evil that lurks in the human heart. The scariest book I have ever read by Stephen King was Hearts in Atlantis.
Hearts in Atlantis wasn’t even a novel, it was several shorter stories combined in one book. But the title story, Hearts in Atlantis, was about addiction. Not just any old addiction, either, but an addiction I had experienced.
It was my sophomore year in university. I had sailed through the trauma of freshman year with grace, great grades, I felt very confident. That summer, back home, I had taken bridge lessons, and holy smokes – I loved the game. It all made sense to me, and I loved figuring the probabilities and the possibilities, who had what card, how I could finesse that card, how I could WIN. I loved winning.
During the summer after my freshman year, I played a lot of bridge. So it was no wonder, when I got back to school, that I discovered a whole world of bridge players. Early in the morning, before my first class, I would head for the student union and pick up a coffee – and often a game.
The problem was, if I had a particularly good hand, the little devil on my shoulder would whisper “if you skip your class, you can win this hand!” and the bigger problem was – I would listen. I could afford to skip a class here and there, I did the homework. But through the year, I spent more and more time playing bridge and less and less time in the library. At the end of my sophomore year, my grade point average had fallen one full point.
That got my attention. I really wanted academic success. I spent my junior and senior years desperately working to get my grade point average back up to an acceptable level. Once the GPA falls, however, it only inches back up incrementally. It took almost straight A’s to undo the damage I had done to myself the year of bridge playing.
After graduation, I fell back into bridge playing on the duplicate level. But after a while, I noticed that while I travelled from place to place, it was the same smoke-filled room in every new city where we ended up, surrounded by a vampire-like culture that slept a lot of the day and only came alive at night. I also noticed that most of the conversations were about “the one that got away” – how such and such a hand might have been played best. Yawn. Yawn. Yawn. So one day, I just walked away, and never looked back.
Like all addictions, from time to time I hear bridge calling. From time to time I will enter a friendly game – party bridge, but it is no longer irresistable, no longer so seductive, so attractive. Thank God. Reading Stephen King brings back the terror of addiction.
Personal Debt and Blogging
Came across this article this morning in the New York Times. Overcoming debt is not unlike overcoming other addictions – and getting support online can help. Interesting article with international application.
Debtors Search for Discipline via Blogs
When a woman who calls herself Tricia discovered last week that she owed $22,302 on her credit cards, she could not wait to spread the news. Tricia, 29, does not talk to her family or friends about her finances, and says she is ashamed of her personal debt.
Theo Rigby for The New York Times.
Leigh Ann Fraley, a financial educator, writes a blog about how she overcame $19,947 in credit card debt. “I teach people how to get out of debt for a living,” she said, “but I couldn’t do it myself until I started the blog.”
The King and Queen of Debt Tell All
Yet from the laundry room of her home in northern Michigan, Tricia does something that would have been unthinkable — and impossible — a generation ago: she goes online and posts intimate details of her financial life, including her net worth (now negative $38,691), the balance and finance charges on her credit cards, and the amount of debt she has paid down since starting a blog about her debt last year ($15,312).
Her journal, bloggingawaydebt .com, is one of dozens that have sprung up in recent years taking advantage of Internet anonymity to reveal to strangers fiscal intimacies the authors might not tell their closest friends.
Like other debt bloggers, Tricia believes the exposure gives her the discipline to reduce her debt. “I think about this blog every time I’m in the store and something that I don’t need catches my eye,” she told readers last week. “Look what you all have done to me!”
A decade after the Internet became a public stage for revelations from the bedroom, it is now peering into the really private stuff: personal finance.
The blogs open a homey and sometimes shockingly candid window on the day-to-day finances of American households in a time of rising debt, failing mortgages and financial uncertainty. In 2006, the average American household carried about $7,200 in revolving debt (mostly on credit cards) and $21,000 in total debt.
A blog called “Poorer Than You” (kgazette.blogspot.com) describes the financial doings of a 20-year-old film-school dropout. (Typical post: “Yesterday we ate lunch at Subway for a total of $8.00, and went grocery shopping … with a list! And didn’t buy anything that wasn’t on it!”) On saveleighann.blogspot.com, Leigh Ann Fraley, 37, provides daily accounts of her escape from $19,947 in credit card debt.
“I teach people how to get out of debt for a living, but I couldn’t do it myself until I started the blog,” said Ms. Fraley, who conducts seminars in personal finance for a bank in Northern California. “I started to write everything down, like, ‘I saved 20 cents today by parking at a meter that still had time on it.’ I tell things I wouldn’t tell my family.” When she got out of debt in December, she said, “The blog was the first people I told.”
A Boston couple who call themselves the King and Queen of Debt started their his-and-hers blog, “We’re in Debt” (wereindebt.com), last March as a way to talk to each other about their debt. They owed $34,155.70 on their credit cards at the time, and an additional $120,000, mostly in student loans.
“My wife and I have good communication skills in every avenue of life except finances,” said the King of Debt, insisting on anonymity because, he said, “We don’t want our parents to find out and kill us.”
Starting the blog, he said, “was a way to communicate.”
Tricia started her blog after reading the online account of another woman, thedebtdefier.blogspot.com, who said she had paid off her credit card debt of $19,794.23 in a little more than a year.
Like other bloggers interviewed for this article, Tricia said she and her husband had arrived at their debt gradually, not by big financial crises but by regularly spending more money than they made, using credit that was offered freely by credit card companies.
“It was nothing over the top,” said a Georgia blogger who calls himself N.C.N., for No Credit Needed, describing how his credit card balance reached $11,510.22.
“Just pretty much what everyone I know does and continues to do,” N.C.N. said. “Every month I’d say, ‘We’re going to pay off this credit card completely.’ Then I’d say, ‘O.K., just this month we’ll let it slide.’ Then you wake up and you have $5,000 on your credit card.” He says on his blogs (ncnblog.com and ncnnetwork.com) that he has no debt now and no credit cards. Like other blogs, his sites run advertisements for debt-reduction services, and N.C.N. says he makes a small profit.
Tricia said her credit problems began in her freshman year at Michigan Technological University, when she opened a Visa account in return for the campus signup premium, a large candy bar. Since then, she said, she has rarely made more than minimum payments. As credit card companies offered her more cards and deeper credit lines, she said she kept her balance close to the maximum, eventually topping $37,000. Even as her credit card debt surpassed her annual income, she assumed that someday she would make more money and pay it off.
She said she never discussed her debt with family or friends. “You don’t want them to know,” she said. “Our parents hope for the best for us, and it’s hard to let them know we’re struggling. And with friends, you don’t want them to think less of you. And when you go out with friends you don’t want to say, ‘Oh, I can’t do that, I don’t have the money.’ ”
Keeping the blog, she said, has made her conscious of her spending. Though most of her readers are strangers, she worries about letting them down.
“I know that if I use my credit card, I’ll have to go on there and say I used it. I’ll have to fess up. I’ve been wanting one of those L.C.D. TVs for quite a while now, but every time I see them, I think about having to come on the blog and say I bought it. Because we don’t need it, we have a TV, but it’s still a temptation that’s there. And I’m sure if I wasn’t blogging we’d already have it.”
For the engaged couple who say they are behind a blog called “Make Love, Not Debt” (makelovenotdebt.com; net worth: negative $70,787.94), the feedback from readers has not always been gentle. “People have very strong feelings about debt,” said the blog’s female half, who calls herself Her. “People were appalled by my spending, like buying a $500 pair of shoes.”
“Just having the amount of debt we have is offensive to a lot of people,” said Him, the blog’s other half. “People will levy personal attacks for mistakes we acknowledge. We don’t think that’s quite necessary.”
When they discussed wanting a $25,000 wedding, one reader scolded them: “Grow up, a wedding isn’t about how much debt you put yourself or your parents into. If you are worried about that, in my opinion, you are not ready for marriage.”
Tricia said the comments she had gotten had been overwhelmingly supportive. But she acknowledges that the fear of censure can be useful as well.
“I feel embarrassed about it,” she said of her debt. “I try not to, though. I try to put a spin on it when I start to get too down. I think to myself if we didn’t get in this mess and get out of it, we would’ve just kept going the way we were. But now we have health insurance, we’re saving for retirement. We could’ve just been living on the edge, but not underneath.”
Anne Rice and Christ the Lord out of Egypt: A Novel
Remember Interview with a Vampire? Remember the feeling, as you read it, that you were probably treading very close to the essence of evil, and that evil was seductive and incredibly attractive? Anne Rice created a world of believable vampires, vampires you could identify with, vampires who created a cult following, and a legion of goth vampire wannabe’s, her prose was that seductive, that inviting, that . . . . irresistable.
Like a siren song, the voice pulled you from book to book, leading you along. With each book, a twist, and suddenly all the assumptions from the previous book were turned upside down, no longer valid when seen from another perspective. Rice lured you down the garden path step by step, and it’s hard to tell at what point you give up your will to resist the siren call.
Recently Anne Rice experienced a re-conversion to Christianity, and is now devoting her writing talents to serving God. This newest book, Christ the Lord out of Egypt, is as thoroughly researched as all the earlier books, and speculates on the early years of the Christ. The book opens in Egypt, with a seven year old Jesus, wise beyond his years but still a child. He sees things he doesn’t understand, he hears things he knows to be significant but doesn’t know why, and when he asks questions, like what happened in Bethleham around the time of his birth, Joseph and Mary, his parents, won’t answer. In fact, they don’t want him to bring up the subject at all, and they tell him they will give him the answers when he gets a little older.
Meanwhile, he hears things, and ponders them. He asks older relatives, and wise teachers. Little by little, he gathers pieces of a puzzle, the puzzle of his background and his identity. He accidently kills a playmate, and brings him back to life. He prays for snow, and it snows. He learns self control through the exercise of powers he doesn’t know he has, he learns to limit himself, and to hide himself.
With his family, they leave Alexandria and return to Jerusalem and then Nazareth, building a new life with their extended family. He grows, he ponders, and he is given a few more pieces of information.
You would think that with Anne Rice’s talent and with her research skills, this would be a fascinating book, but sadly, it is flat, and dull. I wonder why it is easy to make evil so seductively alluring, but it is so hard to bring goodness to life in a believable way? I read the book all the way through, hoping it would get better, but it never did.
There are people – Jan Karon comes to mind – who write about goodness and good people in a vibrant way, making goodness vital and attractive. Wish Anne Rich could find that vein.
Missing Letters
I am having so much fun. I have a house guest, an old friend, and we are goofing off all over town, having a great time.
She needed to write an e-mail to her husband, though, as as she sat down to write on my computer, she said “Intlxpatr, half the letters are worn off your keyboard! How do you know what to type?”
She is right. I have worn off some significant letters on my keyboard. I send an e-mail or two, and blog now and then ( 😛 ) so I am missing the w, e, i, o, a, s, d, f, g, k, l, c, v, b, n, m. Most of the time I am OK, as I am word processing, and can type really fast without looking, and I can edit before I publish. But when giving passwords, it is a bummer not being sure what I am putting in, and maybe 30% of the time, I get it wrong the first time.
I am using an Apple iBook about three years old. Naturally, there is a part of me that thinks I should buy a new computer (!) but the truth is, I don’t need a new computer, this one does all the things I need to do. It sure would be nice to get some keys that I could see, though. Is that possible here in Kuwait, to get new white letters for my white iBook?
Winter Cold Punch
We’re so romantic. Valentine’s Day found us sniffing and snorting, and coughing great big (highly unattractive) coughs. We did manage a great Valentine’s Dinner at a nearby restaurant. As we dined, we saw at least four young couples with tiny babies enjoying a romantic, candlelit dinner – it warmed our hearts. But we skipped date night, watched a movie and this morning I fixed up some hot punch to give us a psychological boost.
This is very much the same as the Christmas Rum Punch, but no rum, and lighter on the spices. It is full of vitamin C, goes down easy, and permeated even the stuffiest nose with the sweet smells of cinnamon and clove.
1 jar Cranberry Juice (Can be Cran-Rasberry, or Cran Grape, or what the Sultan Center has!)
1 quart/litre Pineapple Juice (Sultan Center has FRESH pineapple juice!)
1/4 cup brown sugar
12 inches cinnamon stick (4 sticks of the small Ceylon cinnamon sticks)
1 Tablespoons whole cloves
1 orange peel
Bring to a simmer, and quickly scoop out the cinnamon and clove pieces, or it will get too spicy. When cool, if there is any left, pour back into empty cranberry juice jar, refrigerate until the next time, and microwave until hot. It’s the combination of heat and Vitamin C that knocks out the cold/flu going around, and even better, it smells yummy.
Kuwait Police: One Reason to Love Kuwait
Today I was caught up in one of the traffic stops. It figures. Usually they just wave me through, but last night going out for dinner with my husband, I didn’t want to carry a purse so I asked him to carry my Kuwaiti residence card. See what I mean about “it figures?”
So I confidently handed the policeman a copy of my passport page, my medical card and my driver’s license.
“Madam,” he said with concern, “your license has expired!”
“Oh no!” I said. “No! Not really?”
“Yes! It expires 1-1-07 and it 07!”
“Yes! It is still 07! So it is still valid!”
“No, madam, if you have an accident it would be a big problem! You must get a new license!”
“I will tell my husband right away so I can get a new license.”
Actually, the new license is in progress, and I knew I was taking a chance driving on the expired, temporary license. I just hoped I wouldn’t get stopped. Now I just hope the new, permanent license comes through relatively quickly.
But here is what I love. In the US, police aren’t always so flexible. I might have had my papers taken and not have even been able to drive home with my groceries. This guy was polite, spoke English well (even though by all rights, I should be speaking Arabic with him) and he was even sympathetic. He was on my side, even though I didn’t have the right papers.
My husband says “He knows you can’t be held accountable because you are a only a woman, and therefore irresponsible.”
I know my feminist side should be offended, but I just sit here grinning.
Fairytale House in Mahboula
In one of those minor twists of fate, the mystery mansion in Mangaf is featured in today’s Kuwait Times as the Fairytale House In Mahboula. My bad. It probably IS Mahboula; I get those M-words confused sometimes.
I tried to look the entire article up for you online, but it isn’t there. The Kuwait Times online is funny that way, some articles are there, some aren’t. If you want to find out more about the house, you’ll have to buy today’s paper!
The article says it is owned by Mr. Adel Al-Sadoun, and there is a full page story with several interior shots as well as a garden shot of the entire front of the house. Mr. Al-Sadoun is quite a collector, and his mansion houses several collectionsm and shows one photo of him standing next to a complete set of European body armor. It also says he is retired, but isn’t he the astronomer and weather predictor the Kuwait Times quotes when forecasting long bouts of hot windy weather, or whether there will be enough rain for a good truffle season?
The home was constructed in 1997.
Kuwait Road Hazards
Leaving a meeting today, I needed to run an errand. Within one half hour the following had happend:
1. I almost crashed my car. Three lanes of traffic going one way and I see a huge pothole up ahead in my lane. Bus over to the right with a little red car behind him. Van with two delivery people considerably behind on left – Check rearview mirror, plenty of room on the left, signal my intentions, begin to move left and the little red car behind the bus to the right swerves WAAAYYYY left – almost into me, while the car behind on my left SPEEDS UP! Between swerving quickly to avoid the little red car and then again to avoid the one that had speeded up, I was lucky to maintain control.
Comment: Potholes are dangerous. And what is it with these little drivers who would speed up to get IN your way, rather than maintaining their speed?? It was grotesque!
2. Minutes later I am passed by a very “cool” biker, he has a helmet, but his helmet is buckled on the back of the bike, and his vulnerable little head is bent cooly over the handlebars. Aha! Red light ahead, I will catch up with him and suggest the helmet goes on the head. But no, Mr. Cool goes right through the red lights! (This was a light where the red light was functional; he just felt it didn’t apply to him.)
3. What is the problem with the traffic light fund in Kuwait? Several times recently, we have seen lights where the red light is no longer functioning, only the green light is either on, or nothing is on, so if you know the lights, you know to watch for the green light and stop if it is not green. But what if you are in a strange part of town and don’t know the lights? It is easy to go through a “red” light that no longer shows red.
It isn’t that hard! This is a rich country! Someone is in charge, aren’t they? Isn’t anyone accountable for something so important as maintenance of traffic lights? Don’t the traffic police report lights that are non-functional? These non-functioning traffic lights are invitations to fatal accidents.
Mangaf Mansion
Every time I see this house, I grin. I love it that someone has the money and the imagination to build exactly the house he wanted, and that he did it knowing he would probably get criticism. He built it anyway. Good on him.
Doha Souk Transport
As a young military wife, it was hugely shocking to me when people felt sorry for me that I had to move all the time. Yes, it is painful being far away from family. And yes, it is painful leaving good friends. But in expat world, we all leave sooner or later, this contract ends, this posting leads to another – and some of us are just wired to need the stimulation.
My husband walks into each new posting with credentials – people know what he has done and accomplished, he has “gravitas.” I get to seek out the drycleaner who won’t ruin my clothes, the man who sells the best tomatoes, and to try to get the heating fixed when no one wants to talk to a woman, and to try to find the roads that will get us where we need to go. In short, I am staff.
And, in spite of all my griping, I got the life I was meant to have. I love the variety, I love the shock of finding others think differently, perceive differently, and my own assumptions are challenged. And I love taking photos.
Here is one of my favorites – these wizened old men are always available to carry your excess and heavy packages, and this man was hired to carry the two adorable boys and “nanny” them as mom went from shop to shop. I asked permission before shooting the photo, from a man I assumed to be the father, but the mom came swooping out, asking what I was doing. Fortunately for me, the man calmed her down and all was well.
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