Matthew Dicks

Gratitude journal (with a sprinkle of spite): Fountain soda and NOT COFFEE

Tonight I am grateful for the joy of the unexpected Diet Coke that was delivered to me this afternoon.

It was having an especially challenging day at school, mostly the result of an unexpected deadline and significantly reduced timeframe in order to meet the demand, when my colleague surprised me with a large, plastic cup of fountain soda from Burger King.

There’s something about a fountain soda that makes it far superior to any Diet Coke found in a can or bottle.

It was just what I needed.  My mood improved almost immediately and I found myself better able to power through the rest of the day, easily meeting my unexpected deadline and teaching the hell out of the rest of my day.

Sometimes it’s the little things that make all the difference.  

Perhaps this is how most people feel about about coffee, except I have never spoken ad nauseum about my love for, need for or addiction to fountain soda.  This is the first time I have ever written about the subject, and it was not expressed by something like this:

Need. Fountain. Soda. Now.

Or this:

If I don’t get a fountain soda soon, look out!

Or this:

This is what I call a two cup, 64-ounce fountain soda day.   

So yeah, I was grateful for that fountain soda surprise today. 

But more importantly, I’m also grateful that I’ve never spoken about coffee or any other beverage as if it is a legitimately interesting subject for discussion or something that anyone wants to hear.

A tickle. Not a tissue.

Clara had been in her crib for about fifteen minutes when she began calling for Mommy.  Elysha thought that she was asking for a tissue, so she went upstairs to give her one.

It wasn’t a tissue that she was requesting.

It was a tickle.

Much cuter but considerably less okay since it was well past her bedtime.

I am an upright, though occasionally marginalized, Pacific Islander.

When I am asked to indicate my race on an official form, I almost always check Samoan, or if not available, Other Pacific Islander.

If none of these are available, I usually go with Other.

When asked for my position on an official form (the intent being to  determine my occupation), I usually write Upright, though I have used Marginalized in the past as well.

I’d like to say that I’m taking a stand against artificial attempts to codify or classify me, but in truth, I just like being a pest.

An instigator, my mother used to call me. 

And the best thing about these answers is that I have been doing this for years and no one has ever commented on any of my responses.

Gratitude journal: Many hands thrust Budo and his friends into the light

Tonight I am grateful for the many, many people around the world who are working hard to put my next book, MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND, into readers’ hands.  

Today I exchanged emails with my Spanish translator, who wanted to better understand the intricacies of, among other things, bathroom bowling (the act in which you hold someone’s head in a toilet while flushing it).  Her attention to detail and desire to get the translation right is greatly appreciated. 

And from Australia comes this amusing tee-shirt design, which is planned along with a similar postcard campaign, as part of the launch of my book Down Under.

 

So many smart, creative and clever working on behalf of me and my characters leaves me feeling but humbled and incredibly fortunate this evening.

Skating on linoleum: A future Olympic sport

We are not sure where she learned about ice skating, but she clearly understands a few of the more artistic aspects of the sport, at least when it comes to skating on linoleum. 

Rules for surviving a zombie apocalypse (based upon ACTUAL EXPERIENCE)

I dreamt about a zombie apocalypse last night, not unlike the one that takes place in AMC’s hit show, The Walking Dead.

It was quite realistic. 

I survived the apocalypse, at least until I awoke, and I learned a few important lessons along the way that you may find useful in the event that zombies ever take over the real world.

Here they are, in no specific order:

1. Zombies cannot climb.  They can utilize staircases and even ladders but are incapable of lifting their bodies off the ground by means of their own power. In my dream, this meant removing the staircases from homes.  Residents were required to pull themselves up to the second floor by brute physical strength, which was impossible for many, but for the able-bodied, it was an excellent way to remain in the home in relative safety from the zombie hoard.

2. In an emergency, babies can and should be tossed in order to secure their safety. Better to throw a baby underhand rather than like a football.  Underhanded accuracy is decidedly better and results in fewer tragic tosses.

3. There are always a few idiots who do not take the dangers of the zombie apocalypse seriously, assuming they can outrun the hoard or play a quick game of zombie baseball before attempting an escape.  Don’t waste you time arguing with these people.  They are as good as dead.

4. If your father-in-law refuses to demonstrate a sense of urgency when fleeing from zombies, do not wait for him.  His dawdling will get you all killed.

5. There is surprising room for debate in terms of the merits of becoming zombified.  Is it better to die or allow yourself to become a zombie if you have no other means of escape?  You might think that death is preferable, but zombies seem to be quite content while chewing on a femur or chasing down an over-confident, slow-footed hipster. Who are we to judge their existence?   

6. Do not worry about food in a zombie apocalypse. The population of the planet will be decimated and zombies do not eat human food.  There will be plenty of canned goods around to last years if necessary.

7. Zombies cannot swim, but this does not mean you should jump into a pool in order to escape a zombie hoard. Zombies are also exceedingly patient and will last longer than you can tread water.

8. People who carry suitcases get eaten first.  You must be willing to abandon all worldly possessions in order to survive a zombie apocalypse.     

In regards to the debate over the merits of zombification, it should be noted that in my dream, this debate took place between myself, my wife and several other people. 

Last night I attempted to have the same debate with my wife and it went exactly as it did in my dream.  Almost word for word. 

She hemmed and hawed for about two seconds before declaring she’d rather be dead and dismissing all further discussion.

Gratitude journal: Unexpected reader response

Tonight I am grateful to the readers who take the time to write to me after reading my books.   I received three emails today from readers who recently finished one or both of my books, which is a lot of responses for a single day but not uncommon at all.  I probably hear from about half a dozen readers a week via email and Twitter, but today was an unexpected bounty of generosity and kindness. 

Before publishing my first book, I could have never imagined how often a reader will sit down and write an email to an author after reading his or her book. It was shocking.  It both humbles me as an author and shames me as a reader, for I had never even thought of doing this until I began receiving reader responses myself.

Best of all, these emails always seem to arrive at just the right time:

The manuscript I am working on has hit a snag. 

The revision process for a book is grinding on forever. 

My plans for spending the entire day writing have been quashed by the unexpected events of life.

Fear of failure has begun to creep into my soul. 

These are the moments that I often need a pick-me-up, and yesterday was one of those days. 

These three emails came at just the right moment.

I am so grateful to these readers for their outpouring of support.

Rage against the dying of the light, damn it.

Yeats once asked, "Why should not old men be mad?"

In his final broadcast for A Point of View Clive James offers his answer.  With his granddaughter and her friends bouncing on the furniture, James looks back on his own childhood to a time when the modern world was at its worst and countless millions "died pointlessly for the fulfillment of idle political dreams".  Thinking himself lucky to be able to grow old at all, let alone to do so in peace, James reflects:

There should be pride in it, that you behaved no worse. There should be gratitude, that you were allowed to get this far. And above all there should be no bitterness. The opposite, in fact. The future is no less sweet because you won't be there. The children will be there, taking their turn on earth. In consideration of them, we should refrain from pessimism, no matter how well founded that grim feeling might seem.

This passage is reproduced in James’ book A POINT OF VIEW.

I think it is nonsense.  Stupidity.  I believe this sentiment represents surrender.         

I think Yeats is absolutely correct.  Why should old men not be mad?

Death sucks.  Old age is only slightly better.   

James calls for gratitude in old age and claims that the future will be no less sweet if I am not there.  But James is wrong.  The future will be decidedly less sweet without me. 

It will be less sweet for me. 

And while I would love to feel joy for the subsequent generations and their bright and promising futures, I can’t be joyous for anyone if I am dead.  There is no future for me once I am dead. 

So how can the damn thing be sweet?

Yes, I realize that this is all based upon my narrow, relatively miniscule perspective, and that the world will move on just fine once I am gone, but my perspective counts for a lot.  It’s the basis for my feelings and my beliefs. If I don’t exist, I don’t have any perspective at all, miniscule or otherwise.

Nonexistence is the worst. 

I have said it before:  I don’t trust anyone who isn’t afraid of death. 

Give me Yeats or Dylan Thomas any day.  These accepting-of-death types annoy the hell out of me.  Life is tragically short.  How someone like James can find pride and gratitude in his shuffle off this mortal coil is beyond me.

Birthday girl!

Have you ever seen a girl love an umbrella so much?

  

Or a cupcake?

   

Gratitude journal: Recycled furniture

Someday my wife and I will spend the money to furnish our home with new furniture. This will probably happen when the children are a little older and less likely to ruin it. 

Maybe in our next home.

Until that time, I am grateful for the friends who have so generously passed on their furniture to us as they upgrade their own.  There are a few items that we actually purchased in the house, but much of our furniture is comprised of hand-me-downs, including the items brought over by our friends today.