Recently, I was searching through my library for a particular book that was missing.  In the process of failing to find the missing book, I ran across a book series that I still had that was a key piece of development in terms of fantasy writing.  I hadn't thought of it in decades.  And there I was standing there staring at all of the books in the series, the spin-off series, and the graphic novels astonished.  Astonished at how long ago it was that I'd poured so much cash into them, and also that I still had them.  It brought to mind memories of my teenage years so thickly and so vibrantly rich that I almost for a moment thought I was standing in Book World in Chillicothe reading them in the aisle before purchasing them.

The series was a shared world concept of short stories entitled Theives World.  It was the first of its kind, and it was wildly successful.  It was the first time I had read stories in the fantasy genre that brooding and dark, that were from a gritty and seedy place filled with powerful anti-heroes doing they best they could to muddle through the circumstances life threw at them.  It was intricate and involved and filled with intrigue and backstory.  The histories of the place, the characters, the pantheon of beliefs were deeply detailed, and full of description.

Its fair to say that it had a huge impact on me.  Its also fair to say that it was among a handful of experiences I had in which I could absolutely envision the sights, the sounds, the smells of the city and its denizens.  When reading these treasured gems of stories, I longed to be in the city.  I ached to walk the length and breadth of the bazaar, to see the Maze for myself.  I wanted to sit in Illra's reading room listening to her psychic readings while hearing Dubro's hammer rings from the smithy out back. 

I wanted to see the Hawkmasks loyal to Jubal myself and to find a way to sit in his audience chamber listening to him conduct underworld court and pronouce judgements.  I desired to sit with Hakeim over a mug of ale in infamous bar called, The Vulgar Unicorn, and listen to him to me story after story after story about the place, its people, its history and paying whatever price he required for the stories would seem a trivial pittance to be regaled in such a manner.  To see Lythande and perchance find a way to touch the blue pentagram tatooed on his/hers forehead, would have been the chance of a lifetime.  To see the Stepsons and their leader Tempus, the avatar of Vashanka, once more was he sum total of desire for contentment.

This series was influential to me in so many ways.  It affected what I would later desire to read, and how as I took up the mantle of a writer, what I would write.  It is a reasonable inferrence that my desire to write high fantasy about noble knights riding off to fight world threatening powers and principalities was killed when I read those pages.  After I read those works, I desired only to read and to write a form of fiction that had a genuineness to it, an authenticity that marked it as being part of this genre.  Its fair to say that I could never write like Tolkein or Lewis after having been exposed to it.

And so it was that while I was standing there staring at that stack of books, that I had the desire to check in on the series, and see if anymore had been written since I had bought what had been billed as the series finale.  I had actually spoken to Robert Lynn Aspirin at one point in the middle 1990s when I worked for CallTech when it was supporting Compuserve.  In the course of getting his account fixed, he told me that the publisher was done with the series and wanted no more to do with it.  He told me the economics of publishing the series was just not viable anymore.  So a decade and a half later I was wondering what had become of it.

I found out through my research that Lynn Abbey had made some efforts to revive the series in the early part of this millenium with a series of three books, and had compiled the entire original series into an Omnibus.  And so I was hopeful that I could go check out the works and check in on it again.  And as I read what had been done to the world I had so loved I was heartbroken.  Virtually all of the characters I loved were either dead or had moved on from the world, or were so radically altered that I would not recognize them today.  Hakeim moved on out of the city, Illra dead, Dubro dead, One Thumb dead, Jubal dead, Enas Yorl dead, Hanse Shadowspawn had a stroke and was no longer the theif he had once been. Prince Kaddikithas was dead and so was Molin Torchholder.  Lythande was gone as were Tempus and the Stepsons.

Left in its place was a cast of new characters that I had little of no interest in reading.  And as the reality of the current state of this shared world sunk into me, I knew a substansial part of me had died.  I knew that what had energized me to read and write no longer existed.  I am not sure why this bothered me, because the reality of such a gritty, grim, and violent world would be that most of those characters 25 or so years hence would be dead or dying, but it did.  It felt like someone had done something vile to something I cared about quite deeply.

I suppose this is because one of my fantasies was to write for this shared world.  I wanted to write stories for Enas, Lythande, Hanse, and the others.  I wanted to share my take on them and the situations they encountered in my imagination.  I have to accept that it was just not meant to be.  And any effort to do so would have been a distillation of someone else's ideas.  It would have been at best a derrivative of the original, a copy.  That realization left me sad beyond measure.

And so it is now that I know that I must turn the page and move on from this place.  I must accept that it is best for me to revel in what was, while putting my creative energy into new and wholly seperate concepts of my own.  It becomes important to focus on the worlds of my own imagination and not weep over the death of the creative worlds of others.  It doesn't make it easy knowing that.  It doesn't make the task of moving on any simplier.  The gulf between knowing and doing are completely seperate places.  But it is the task that lies in front of my now.  So mote it be.

By way of an update on my condition, I have had to battle my own preconceived ideas about what it means to be diabetic, and how to live with this condition.  At the outset, it was my fervent hope that this disease could be driven back into some remissive state, thus allowing me to live a life unfettered by its clutches.  I had hoped I was going to be able to knock down once, and have everything proceed on to the happy ending, and the credits roll from there.  As my understanding of it has grown, I have had to accept that this is not a realistic expectation.

Living with this condition is a lot more than just medication, diet, and exercise. I didn't want this to consume me, to define me. At this point, I don't see how it can't.  As I have discovered of late, much to my sad dismay, that each and every aspect of my life now must be viewed through the prism of how diabetes is impacted by, or impacts upon the item in question.  This is not my desired destination to be sure.

Concordantly, I had to re-evaluate my views regarding this condition of mine.  The war analogy of diabetes as the foe to be vanquished in some medieval contest of wills was something that had to be set aside.  It just didn't work honestly.  With that metaphor in place, I was setting myself up for continued disappointment as this war would never end, and the battle would go on into imperpetuity.  This is not a functional analogy.  Battles and the wars in which they reside all eventually must end.  The human condition is not suited to constant warring, even if it is metaphorical in nature, and the only opponent is largely oneself.

The best metaphor I have settled upon is that of the property manager.  For reasons I have yet to fully understand, the home office has leased space in my property to this tennant, diabetes.  My task is to work with this cumbersome and poor houseguest to keep it contained and minmize its impact on the rest of the property.  To keep the property clean of its impacts, and make sure its relationship with the rest of the property is symbiotic, and not parasitic.

I know all of the talk about metaphors may seem silly to the outside observer, but for me, it works.  It helps me to properly frame the mental landscape.  It helps me to have a good outlook upon this situation.  It helps me to move forward with grace and dignity.  In short, it helps me survive.  And that from my perspective is all that matters.

I have read voraciously on this subject, and I came to the conclusion that others have had to do the very same thing.  I suppose its a good thing to realize I was not alone in this regard.  It allows me have some measure of hope that I can survive today, because my struggle is one that others face each and every day.  Not just because misery loves company, but rather mostly because it helps me to realize that others have had to walk the path I am treading, and that my responses to this, while specific to me, are not wholly my own.  Others have had to make the choices I have made, have had to tackle the obstacles that are in front of me. 

It reminds me, that I am human, and for whatever little credibility the word still holds, normal.

There are moments in this life that are defining milestones.  Moments that stand out as the turning point in a tidal flow of life.  Moments that represent an iconic shift that betoken a clarion call that nothing that happens after it will ever be the same as the micro-second that occurred before it.

I experienced such a moment recently.  It was in the midst of a command appearance before my physician, (the details of this command appearance are long and humorous, and I plan to share them at a later date). I was sitting in the anti-septically clean smelling and blindingly brilliant white exam room, when she entered the room after a battery of tests with her staff. 

I knew something was really wrong from the pained look on her face.  She sat down on the rolling stool and put her hand on my thigh in some vain effort to comfort me, and spoke the words that have come to define this period of my life, the words that define the context in which I will spend the rest of my life. 

She said, "Todd you have diabetes".

Now I know that this diagnosis is not a death sentence.  I know that it is not going to kill me today.  I know that properly managed it is unlikely to be the direct cause of my death in the near term.  I know that I stand a higher chance of being killed on a Columbus freeway today than my diabetes killing me today.

Knowing all of that to be the truth, didn't help me cope in that moment.  My doctor did her level best to comfort me and give me the tools needed to get to a place of dealing with this disease.  Honestly, her words were a blow to me.  In that moment, I felt for the first time that my age and my eventual mortality were beginning to creep up on me.  I felt as if I was shaking the hand of death in kind of an initial greeting, a sort of getting aquainted moment.  I could almost hear the words, "You aren't going to live forever, and I thought I would take a moment to introduce myself" from death.

I left the appointment dazed, angry, and more than somewhat befuddled.  I know it shouldn't have been a surprise to me.  I know with my lifestyle, eating habits, and family history, I should have been prepared to hear those words.  I however was not.  I was angry for a short time with my creator even.  I felt betrayed that I was being singled out by him here.  I wondered why a lot of people I know can eat whatever they want and not gain an ounce, and have normal readings on everything, but yet I have been targetted with diabetes.

The rest of that day was something of a blur to me.  I went through the motions of the rest of my daily routine, but my mind was elsewhere.  I was struggling with the enormity of all these issues.  I was struggling with the big picture implications that flowed out of it.  I was struggling to maintain my faith and my connection with that spark set within me that is destined for eternity somewhere.

It wasn't until much later that day in my bride of more than a decade's embrace, that I was able to gain some measure of balance with this.  It was in her reassurance that for better or worse meant something deep and abiding to her, and that we would face all of this together, and that whatever changes had to be made she would make them with me.  I found in that moment the joy that the enemy had stolen from me at the appointment.

It was in that moment that the defining milestone was laid down in my life.  Yes everything had changed in my life, but the milestone, the moment, wasn't at the doctor's appointment.  It was much later with my wife in the midst of her determined and stubborn reassurance that we found the moment that defined us and everything that will flow forward out of it in the forseeable future.  I was reminded what an amazing woman that my bride really is, and how lucky I am to have her at my side sharing the good and the bad with me.

Nothing is certain as of the date of this writing.  There is good news to be sure.  My body is responding positively to the changes in my diet, and medication.  It was confirmed that I have adult onset type two, and not the more serious adult onset type one.  And the readings of the blood sugars are getting close to the upper end of the normal range.  The good take-aways here are many. 

I do wish I knew for certain what the future holds in this regard, but I don't.  And to be brutally honest, the future is an enigma for everyone, so I am no different than anyone else in that regard.  I am still jealous of people that can eat with reckless abandon, and on some level I do feel that its not fair.  However I am not God, and only He is responsible for the balance of that question, so its out of my hands.  My envy and jealous notwithstanding I am on a course that will dominate the rest of my life.  Hopefully, it will be a long and good one.

Thank you for taking a moment to read my scattered thoughts in this matter.

So much of our life occurs within the context of the oblivious mundane.  The repetivie instances of daily life, in which we do what we do largely on autpilot.  The run of the mill things that happen each and every day, unrealized and uninspected moments flow by us without acknowledgement.  And given the limitations of the human intellect and attention span, this is as it should be.

There are other moments, much rarer moments, in which none of that is true.  These moments come to us, by what appears to be their own volition.  They come to us with a will, an energy, and an intellect all their own.  And their appearance is never sublte.  Once they arrive in grand and dramatic fashion, it is obvious that the status quo has cesased to be.  And honestly, it is clear that what was will be no more and that a new norm has arrived.  This new norm will define our context.

I would love to say that these moments are painless and enjoyable.  I would howver be guilty of dishonesty if I allowed that perception to settle in.  The truth, at least for me, is that they are difficult and painful.  More often than not they are akin to a baseball bat to the head.  As the change they bring with them in their wake is always difficult to accept and adjust to.

Rightly or wrongly, they are like a frying pan to the head.  Rightly or wrongly, watching an existing order of things pass from existence is never an easy thing much less be a participant in.  And when the source of these changes being divine, becomes known, it doesn't make it any easier to walk through.  Participating in the demise and or genocide of an order, an existance, a life never is.

Our feelings of such things notwithstanding, the change such holy frying pans betoken cannot be deterred or denied.  The event comes and works its will regardless.  Subsequently it becomes more important to accept them to understand our need or them.

This is largely because our creator knows that the real and lasting changes we need in our lives, more often than not, we cannot produce in and of ourselves.  Human beings are typically builders, we build the life our context allows and affords us.  There are just moments when our context will no longer support our growth to the next level.  When that happens usually God will launch the ICBM of change into our life.

Knowing this to be true, it falls to us to embrace the baseball bat, the frying pan, or the missile and endeavor to grasp what was removed, what remains, and what was added.  Grousing about the pain it caused does no good.  So I say, embrace the holy frying pan!  Ride the lightning as it enters our context, knowing that its all for our greater good that it came there in the first place.

The new tv season is underway, and there is a lot to talk about.  Some new things have come, some old things have returned, and some new things have already failed (I'll talk about that more in a minute).  There are few really shining spots, a few spots that I'm stunned are still there.  I have taken a moment below to elucidate what I think are the highlights of the new season.  Enjoy...

The Good Stuff that Returned

Fringe:  Fringe had a strong second season last year.  The story that was compelling from last year has flowed smoothly and smartly forward into this year.  New twists and new oddities have occurred in just the first episoe, (like Walter ending up owning Massive Dynamic).

Vampire Diaries:  This show is my guilty pleasure.  I don't like to admit that I am thrilled by this show.  It is the opposite of everything I am normally attracted to in terms of television.  The merger of the dark, the inhuman, and the supernatural with an everyday life show is impressive.  And the ancient dark secret twist on the cocktail adds an excellent chaser.  And for the next season...  It is showing all the signs of picking up where last season left off with compelling TV.

Castle:  I have really enjoyed this show over the last few seasons.  And this season hasn't disappointed in the opening episodes of this year.  Nathan Fillion has turned what could have been a yawner of a show into an excellent top tier program.  It makes me happy that I wandered into it.  It is a fresh take on the crime drama, and it is fully unique in every way possible.

The New Stuff

The Event:  The concept seems interesting enough.  The acting to this point has been top notch and the script has been well constructed.  Exceptional performance by Blair Underwood as a president willing to take on tough choices and lead in difficult circumstances.  It goes without saying that I find the show enjoyable.  There is one flaw that is driving me nuts with the show though.  There doesn't seem to be one central focus from which the show tells a story.  It is all over the place, and has key sequences told from a myriad of times and places.  There isn't a single unified narrative so far.

@#$% My Dad Says:  No show on the fall schedule was more villified than this one by the critics.  With the venom that they all approached this show, it was obvious that they hated it, and felt it didn't belong on the schedule.  I don't know how they could have come to this conclusion.  This show is extremely original, and funny with an impressive comedic with and timing.  William Shatner brings a fresh take to the angry curmudgeon archetype.  Its funny as hell and it brings life to the sit-com format that desperately needed it.

The Failures (So Far)

Lone Star:  Nothing exemplifies the disconnect between those that review television for a living and those  that watch it, than Lone Star.  This show was critically acclaimed from every corner.  Nearly every reviewer fawned over this show with flowery and effusive praise.  And yet it totally fell flat with viewers, and Fox pulled it after two episodes.  

Those that review television were interested in the concept of the show, and were willing to build it up in the hope that the long term could be good.  The average viewer was watching or not watching what was actually there, and made a judgement based on that.  The show took too many risks, and didn't take advantage of the inherrent opportunities that this construct provided.  At the end of the day, it was entirely too difficult to watch the doe-eyed nice guy fleece good people out of their money.  The simple truth being, that the public's wounds from being fleeced by the flim flam men from Wall Street are just too fresh with some still bearing the bruises and the weeping sores of their contact with the con men of Wall Street.

Boardwalk Empire:  So I really gave this show a solid try.  I wanted to enjoy it.  Steve Buschemi is an excellent actor, and I am a huge fan of his work.  And a large portion of the team from the Sopranos came to work on this project.  It goes without saying that I wanted this to work.  The problem is this...  IT IS BORING!  I can't get over the fact that both episodes I tried to watch were absolutely tediously boring.  I gave up on it sadly.

Complaints:

There are a number of shows that I wish I could fit in, but just can't due to the limitations of my DVR, and time constraints.  Nikita is chief among this category.  It looks interesting and cool, but I have not resolved the lack of ability to overcome the DVR limitation or the time to fit it in.