Hello, My Name is Michelle and I'm an App Addict

            I decided yesterday that I’d better make a post for March before Secretary of State Hillary Clinton sends out a search party for me like she announced she’s doing for Amelia Earhart this week.  I haven’t been up to anything nearly as grand as the late Ms. Earhart for the last several weeks, merely trapped in the abyss of addiction to Words with Friends and his evil twin Hanging with Friends.  These games are the crack of apps.

My nine-year-old is obviously the only person in the world who truly loves me, because it was he who finally staged a much needed intervention.  “Momma,” he said, glaring at my drug dealer, I mean, Motorola Atrix, “you are on that thing twenty-four seven!”

“Huh? Oh, Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetie.”

“Momma, it’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

I read, ahm on-line from my phone, recently that “All it takes to be a writer is 3% hard work and 97% staying off the internet.”  True dat, I guess, though I’m sure there’s a bit more to the equation if one is aspiring to be not only a writer, but published author/decent parent as well.

For now, I’m off the juice.  I’m taking one day at a time and resisting the urge to start up half-a-dozen games or more at a time with random strangers.  I’m trying not to fantasize about “Z” word combinations overlaying triple letter and triple word tiles, trying not to feverishly google the definitions of words like QI and FEH merely to use them to taunt my opponents in the “chat” box, trying to ignore the phantom trill my pusher emits when it’s “my turn” one hundred times per day.

Jack Attack says my addiction has harmed him in the following ways: 

1.       “You missed four weeks of Star Wars, The Clone Wars episodes, but don’t worry, I DVRed them for ya’.  It’s just gonna take me longer to explain to you what happened afterwards.  Sometimes I think you don’t know nuffin’ about Star Wars, The Clone Wars, Momma.”

2.       “There are no snacks, and I mean NO snacks, in the house besides those weird, orange stick things in the refrigerator….They’re Carrots?...What the…?... Momma, I cain’t eat rabbit food for a snack.”

3.       “I cain’t understand half the stuff you say, Momma.  What the heck does ‘feh’ mean anyway?”

I hope that in time he’ll be able to forgive me.

It's the End of the World As We Know It...And Why We Just Can't Get Enough

There’s a seemingly endless number of ways that life as we know it could end:  nuclear war, an alien invasion, the death of the sun, a zombie plague, the election of Mitt Romney in the general election.  What form will our apocalypse take?  Unfortunately, those pesky Mayans didn’t say, despite providing us with a very specific date for the big event.  Whatever shape our demise might eventually present itself in, you can bet there has been a book already written about it…a book young adult readers, in particular, love.

Dystopian fiction sells.  Some of the most memorable adult science fiction that I read way back when I was a teen could now be classified as dystopian.  Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury; The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells; The Giver, by Lois Lowry—all made way for the popular “What If?” stories that today’s teen reader and many adults, like myself, can’t get enough of.  Dystopia examines what happens when a world or way of life lauded by some as Utopia goes wrong.

But, what’s the appeal?  I think there are two answers.

First, I think it’s natural to be fascinated with “How would I survive?” stories.  How would I survive a catastrophic event?  What would my place be in a fractured society that remained or was reborn in some new version?  Would I stand a chance at survival at all?  We want to experience the fantastic through the journey and struggles of a character with the chance to decide in our own mind if we’d have done things differently or with better results.

  There is great value in these stories and the questions they raise.  Certainly those of us who’ve spent any amount of time thinking about whether we’ll remain in a place of safety with provisions and weapons stock-piled in advance or “bug-out” into the unknown in search of fellow survivors and safety in numbers during the zombie apocalypse have a greater chance of survival than those who’ve had their heads—along with the brains all the zombies are going to be so hungry for—in the sand.  (Prepare for the unthinkable to survive the inevitable is all I’m saying, people.)

Second, at a time when we feel we have no control over our own lives, dystopian fiction is appealing.  For teens navigating adolescence, trapped between childhood and adulthood with little or no control of their bodies much less their daily lives, dystopia provides a venue to lash out at power and authority—especially if it’s perceived as being corrupt.  Many dystopian works are about revolution, which seems entirely fitting for teens trying to find their own way in the world.

For adults who may feel mired in their day to day lives, bogged down with responsibilities and little prospects—thanks a ton, Current Economic Environment.  I hate your stinkin’ guts!—dystopia offers a look into a truly deeper bleakness and reminds us that there is hope for the “real” world…hope worth fighting for.  (Are you taking notes out there, Presidential Candidates?)

We can all become discontent or disillusioned with life at times.  Things may not always go exactly as we planned.  The next time you’re feeling this way, why not pick up one of the classics I listed at the beginning of the post or any of these newer titles:   Matched by Ally Condie, Ashfall by Mike Mullin, Epitaph Road by David Patneaude, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, The Maze Runner by James Dashner, or Across the Universe by Beth Revis.  As for me, I’m currently reading Divergent by Veronica Roth as suggested by my friend Deborah Steward, who unapologetically loves YA as much as I do and just happens to have the BEST taste in books.

Happy Reading!