Category: People

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I have never been much of a game player. I liked some sports and participant games such as Tag and marbles, played volleyball and baseball and soccer, and I’m rather fond of Mahjong. But I never was one for cards, or board games, or anything of that nature. Monopoly leaves me cold.

When I started college, a big thing on campus at that time was role-playing games, such as Dungeons and Dragons. These were a novelty to me and I remember attending a day long D & D festival, marveling at the people that took it all so very seriously.

My indifference to games extends to computer and online role-playing games such as Quake or, well I can’t even think of the names of popular games. I was at one time heavily interested in three-dimensional computer graphics – I applied for but didn’t get a job at Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic; however this interest was because of the technology and the beauty of the creations, not because I was a gamer.

I playacted when I was younger, and acted a bit in high school. But I quit high school and grew up. (Or was it, I grew up when I quit high school?) As I got a older I would sometimes put on a Social Mask, part of the same costume that included flowers and halter top one year, gold chains and disco dress another. Over time, though, I found that people would sometimes like the Mask more than me, and I came to realize the Mask was not my friend.

At Central University, when I returned to college as an old woman of 29, I wore the persona of Young Female College Student, and faced my 30th birthday behind anorexic walls and determined denial. As part of my ‘fitting in’, not the least of which was trying to share my young lover’s interests, I tried the role-playing games a couple of times but they had no appeal for me. I liked the pretty dice, but eventually became bored with the game and pretty young man.

Now, the only mask I wear is one of mud.

I must seem prosaic and lacking in imagination because I don’t care for role-playing. However, I can walk along Katy Trail and imagine the Little People calling to me as Owl from the bushes; I can see a story unfold before me, overlayed on reality and forming a double image in my mind until spilled forth on paper or keyboard; I can dive into a book and wrap the words around me, losing myself; I’ll look at a photograph or a painting or a piece of sculpture and I can sense menace, or joy, or sorrow, or even silliness from abstract curves and empty seats. If this isn’t imagination, I’ll take whatever it is and be content.

Some might point out that Burningbird is a role, a persona I take on as a weblogger. Yet the words I write as Burningbird are no different than the words I would write as Shelley, or Bb, or Shell or any name I’m called.

Does role-playing give us insight, and allow us greater freedom of expression? I can see how this would be, and perhaps I’m voluntarily stifling my creativity by not trying out different roles, especially when communicating. Other people’s reaction to the roles and the words spoken while in role must be enlightening – but then, how do I know they’re not also adopting roles when they respond?

Perhaps the roles are really bits of ourselves we slice off to stand in stark contrast to the blended whole, like the photographer who filters out the reds in a photo that will eventually be published in black & white. I do sometimes let my Evil Twin out to play, but I have a little secret for you – she’s me.

Are novelists like WG Sebald and poets like Sylvia Plath taking on roles when they write? Or are they using empathy rather than masks?

I think that role-playing for some of us happens internally rather than externally. I am talking with you and you don’t see the Joker or the Whore or the Mother or the Sadist but they’re here, inside me. And someday their response to you will find life, in a phrase or a sentence I write for a story. But by then, you’ll be inside me, too.

Chris Locke dropped a note about Ann Craig having surgery today for melanoma.

I am glad that Chris make this publication. There was rumors that Ann was laid up because she was carrying Chris’ babies – all eight of them – from a previous liason. However, she wrote me in an email that she never really has met Chris Locke – it was a figment of his imagination after he’d sucked down a really bad cup o’ joe at Starbucks.

Really, Chris has never gone out with any blonde – they were all in his imagination. There was a red head that took pity on him and went out with him once; we don’t know how the date went because she hasn’t talked since and when you mention Chris’ name she screams and runs from the room.

Seriously, if you can’t tell from this get well message that Ann has the most wonderful, whacky sense of humor, then you need only look at this picture at Gary’s.

Laughter is the best medicine, and here’s wishing Ann loads of it. Best wishes, Ann, and hope you’re back up and running quickly.

Little Eva died today. For those not into old 1960’s rock n’ roll, Little Eva was a Motown singer who did a great, great song called Loco-Motion. I haven’t heard this song for years, but just the title brings back the tune. And the words:

Move around the floor in a Loco-motion.
(Come on baby, do the Loco-motion)
Do it holding hands if you get the notion.
(Come on baby, do the Loco-motion)
There’s never been a dance that’s so easy to do.
It even makes you happy when you’re feeling blue,
So come on, come on, do the Loco-motion with me.

Listen

It even makes you happy when you’re feeling blue. Still works after all this time. Rest in peace, Little Eva.

(Thanks to reading & writing)