Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?
Stephen King. That took but a millisecond to decide. Mostly because I’ve been asked this question before, and will probably always give the same answer.
I am not sure whether or not I would be able to actually HANDLE having dinner with Stephen King, but I would certainly want to try, if I am ever given the opportunity. I am afraid I will totally fangirl it out on him.
If I could have Stephen King over for dinner I would make him some barbeque ribs, even though I don’t really care for eating things off bones, I would make them just so I could see Stephen King do it, all covered wrist to fingertip, one end of the smile to the other with something that looks strangely like blood. I’d ask him everything I want to ask – everything that he hasn’t already answered in one of his books or short stories. I’d ask him how many secret books he has stashed away for the time after him…
And then, of course, we’d become great friends and we’d email and text all the time, and he’d invite me to visit his houses and write with him in Florida and Maine, and…
I sing to myself (and hum to myself) constantly while I am at work. I also sing in the shower, in the car, and, well, whenever I want to, really. I love singing. I love music. I love songs with great lyrics that you can just jive to.
The last time I sung to myself was at work today – I was humming and “singing” the score from the Indiana Jones movies all day. Duh da duh duhhhhh duh da duhhhhh…
The last time I sang to someone else was over dinner tonight when Elise wanted dessert but I told her no way not now because she didn’t even finish half of her dinner. I sang “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” That always pisses her right off.
If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?
I want to be able to follow through with everything I set my mind on doing. Losing weight. Writing and blogging daily. Standing up for myself. Saving money. Staying tidy.
What’s that quality? Where do I get me some of that?
What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?
I pondered this for a while and it was a hard question for me. I thought about some things that MOST people would say you can’t joke about.. and realized that I joke about them. Really rude, stereotypical racism. Dead babies. The Holocaust.
I saw what some other writers have answered – rape, child abuse – and I can’t say I disagree with them.
They’re horrible things. There are so many fucking horrible things.
But, I think to myself all the time, if we can’t laugh about it and joke about and try not to let the darkness win, well. I don’t want to live in such a serious, no-joking, we must be politically correct and try not to offend anyone, ever.
Then I realized there is at least one thing that makes my cold, hardened heart skip a beat when people make jokes about it.
You don’t joke about suicide.
If you joke about suicide around me, chances are your significant other, or your parents, or whoever is closest to you in life is getting an immediate phone call from me, because I’m going to need to make sure you have a support system that is aware you’re in need of them right the fuck away.
I’m not going to leave you alone until I know you’re being helped by a medical professional.
If you joke about suicide you prepare to feel my wrath. Possibly in the form of love wrapped around you that pulls you back from the brink.
I’m participating in Cee’s Sharing My World Blogging Challenge, and loving the weekly Q&As