He taught me that sometimes, dead is better, things change, and you own what you build. He taught me to read if I wanted to write, and to love the words, and to never be ashamed of loving whatever the hell it was I wanted to love.
In a weird way, Stephen King gave me permission for a great many things, and since those things are integral to who I grew up to be, I have to say that he, through his work, was just as big an influence on me as any other adult in my life.
He taught me you can get out.
Yes. Yes to all of this.
I was always the precocious girl, the smart kid, and I dove into Stephen King hard around fourth grade, when things were really starting to goto shit socially--or, more aptly, I started really being aware of the power structures and what was really going on. And I decided to just read instead of subject myself to further attempts at being a Normal Popular Girl.
My mom, bless her forever, started me on horror young, probably because she had me in her twenties and she wasn't ready to stop watching horror just because she had a six year old. So I got to watch the Exorcist and pepper her with a thousand questions on what I thought was the COOLEST THING EVAR about being Catholic. (It made Catholicism cool for me, for a time. Cause, fighting monsters/demons, yo! Then I found out I couldn't be a priest and that sucked.) When my mom brought home Carrie, it piqued my 4th grade interest because the movie was a part of my extensive favorites list. However, she worked all day as a nurse, so when she came home, she wanted to read. As I had just gotten home from school, this interfered with my plans.
I solved the problem by taking it to school the next day so I could read it and give it back to her when she got home. I was so thoughtful, I know.
My fourth grade math teacher, Mrs. Caputo, saw me reading while in line and pulled me out to kindly ask me, "Honey, does your mother know you are reading that book?" I replied, "Oh yes! She reads them herself and I am reading it now to keep us from fighting over it!" Mrs. Caputo, "....oh. Oh, well, when your mom is done with it, could you ask her if I could borrow it?"
Thus became the start of a great friendship with my fourth grade math teacher. To this day, I also think that It saved me from the horrible depression of middle school. Or at least mitigated it to survivable levels. It was tied with Pet Semetary for my favorite King book. Also? My Master's thesis was on Arthurian legend and the Dark Tower series. Go me.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-09-21 04:33 pm (UTC)In a weird way, Stephen King gave me permission for a great many things, and since those things are integral to who I grew up to be, I have to say that he, through his work, was just as big an influence on me as any other adult in my life.
He taught me you can get out.
Yes. Yes to all of this.
I was always the precocious girl, the smart kid, and I dove into Stephen King hard around fourth grade, when things were really starting to goto shit socially--or, more aptly, I started really being aware of the power structures and what was really going on. And I decided to just read instead of subject myself to further attempts at being a Normal Popular Girl.
My mom, bless her forever, started me on horror young, probably because she had me in her twenties and she wasn't ready to stop watching horror just because she had a six year old. So I got to watch the Exorcist and pepper her with a thousand questions on what I thought was the COOLEST THING EVAR about being Catholic. (It made Catholicism cool for me, for a time. Cause, fighting monsters/demons, yo! Then I found out I couldn't be a priest and that sucked.) When my mom brought home Carrie, it piqued my 4th grade interest because the movie was a part of my extensive favorites list. However, she worked all day as a nurse, so when she came home, she wanted to read. As I had just gotten home from school, this interfered with my plans.
I solved the problem by taking it to school the next day so I could read it and give it back to her when she got home. I was so thoughtful, I know.
My fourth grade math teacher, Mrs. Caputo, saw me reading while in line and pulled me out to kindly ask me, "Honey, does your mother know you are reading that book?"
I replied, "Oh yes! She reads them herself and I am reading it now to keep us from fighting over it!"
Mrs. Caputo, "....oh. Oh, well, when your mom is done with it, could you ask her if I could borrow it?"
Thus became the start of a great friendship with my fourth grade math teacher.
To this day, I also think that It saved me from the horrible depression of middle school. Or at least mitigated it to survivable levels. It was tied with Pet Semetary for my favorite King book. Also? My Master's thesis was on Arthurian legend and the Dark Tower series. Go me.
And now I think I need to go reread It.