When I lived in Boston a psychic set up shop down the street from my apartment. I have to admit, I was curious. Not about my future but curious about why this woman thought it was a good idea to open a psychic shop right in the heart of Janksville surrounded by college students who were more concerned with spending their dollars on beer than questions of destiny. Obviously she knew something the rest of us didn’t.


Her presence in the neighborhood became more known when she left her crystal ball behind to market her shop on foot. At first she started passing out business cards in front of her shop. Then, she took a subtler approach by sitting in her doorway and asking anyone passing by if they wanted their fortunes told.

I got asked that question approximately half a million times.


She might have been absolutely excellent at predicting the future, able to tell me exactly what I was going to eat for breakfast on my forty-sixth birthday and what I will name the dog I’m going to adopt five years, three days, one hour, seven minutes, and thirty-three seconds from now. I could have taken her up on her promise of knowledge one of the many times she asked me, flinging my groceries to the side and following her to her crystal ball and tarot cards.


I’m someone who stays off social media the day after I miss an episode of my favorite show in order to avoid spoilers. I read books one page at a time, never even tempted to peer at the last page and find out what happens. I suffer through because I despise spoilers.

I always feared that one of the times I brushed her off she would reply “doesn’t matter anyway. You’re not going to be around much longer” or something cryptic and to that effect.


I mean if I kept trying to offer random strangers knowledge that they probably didn’t really want and they continued to shoot me down, I might get a little annoyed and snap too.

But she didn’t. My future is still a mystery. I don’t know if I’ll have eggs and bacon or french toast on the morning of my forty-sixth birthday. Maybe I won’t even have breakfast at all. As for the dog, I’m still wavering between Chewbacca and Kal-el for the name. We’ll see how I feel five years, three days, one hour, six minutes, and three seconds from now

It’s the future. Anything can happen.



Season Finale

I’m fickle. One second I’m all “Yes! I’m going to blog a lot!” and the next I’m like “never mind, I’m going to watch Smallville instead”. I’m blaming television for the lack of blogging. It’s all television’s fault. Damn you, TV!


I love television. In my line of work, that’s not something you should admit freely. Every time someone who holds a job in any literary capacity admits their true feelings for television, a book spontaneously combusts.


Don’t get me wrong. I adore books. I own enough to build furniture out of. I would put that furniture in the house that I build out of the remaining books. I carry at least three novels on my person at all times and I’ve been known to forcibly make my friends and family read my favorites. I expect my children and grandchildren to one day bury me (preferably dead) with all of my favorite books.

That being said, I still spend a lot of time watching TV. From September to May, I live my life full of feelings about many different fictional characters that live on my television screen.


And then it’s June. Just like that, months spent dividing my time between sixteenth century French court, Starling City, Seattle’s Zombie-filled morgue, Central City, and Storybrooke have ended and I face-plant right back into reality. Reality has significantly less vigilantes.

Season finale time is like the day after Christmas. All of the gifts you’ve been given (and, in the case of a TV show those gifts are new information revealed in the finale: WTF is even going to happen next season?!?!?!) are suddenly a lot less appealing. Let’s be honest, the most exciting part of any of this is the anticipation. It’s the excitement of the slow build leading up to the monumental event.

And then it’s over.


So, how does one cope with the end of the world as you know it for the summer?

1. Go outside:

“Outside? I can’t…the bugs…it’s too hot…the humidity makes my hair frizz…my delicate skin can’t handle the scorching rays of that glorified star in the sky you call the sun!”


Oh, hush.

Without a window into the dramatic lives of my favorite fairy tale friends in the Enchanted Forest, I could easily hide inside all day, pining away for Captain Hook and co.

Instead I go to the hiking trails with this beautiful creature:

This is Shelby.
There’s a lovely hiking trail not too far from my house. When you’re far enough in, you start to wonder if you’ve wandered onto the long forgotten movie set of The Chronicles of Narnia. Then you wonder why they never made the Narnia books into a television series. It could have been a beautiful, beautiful thing that ended, as they all do, in utter heartbreak every summer.

As you go on, you imagine Aslan emerging from the blue trail and telling you (in a voice that sounds eerily similar to Liam Neeson) that you have a great destiny to fulfill.

Shelby and I have had some wonderful adventures (albeit imagined) in fake Narnia.


Go find your Narnia!

2. Watch Smallville:

Or really any TV show you haven’t watched before that’s been over for a while. But seriously, if you’re like me and have been living under a rock and have never seen the splendor that is Smallville, you’re living a life half lived.  My life has improved 110% percent since Clark Kent and Lex Luthor have come into my life.


The downside is that this doesn’t really solve the problem. It’s merely a distraction. You transfer your unrequited feelings for your current television shows on hiatus to a show that you can see all the way through. You can find out who lives and who dies in one 100+ hour sitting. It’s much more gratifying.

This is your rebound show, if you will. But, when it’s over, there’s no doubt that your feelings for your other shows will return with a vengeance. At least you’ll be 100+ hours closer to season premiere time afterwards.

3. Obsessively re-watch all of the shows on a loop until they’re back:


This one is pretty self explanatory. It will numb the pain for now.

I wish you luck with whatever method you use to cope with the unfortunate length of time that follows the season finale.