Soul Mates and Cranial Rectumitis

Soul Mates:  The Perfect Fit

Soulmate

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A soulmate (or soul mate) is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.^[1]This may involve similarity, love, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, or compatibilityand trust.



I believe in soul mates.  Do you?  If you do and you've ever been lucky enough to find yours in this lifetime, you will truly understand the depth of my feelings in this post.  Not everyone is fortunate enough to find that one heart, that one soul, that one truly compatible human being that makes everything sparkle with light and joy.  It's such a beautiful experience that mere words can't do it justice but for the sake of this post I will try to express it as best as I can.

A soul mate is that one person who "gets you".  He (or she) understands you in ways no one else can.  He has your same wacky sense of humor, your same love of all things Star Trek, is intelligent enough to discuss the physics behind the show, and funny enough to make you laugh when you're violently ill.  He will open doors, cook you meals, but is man enough NOT to take your shit and call you out when you're being a moody bitch asshole.  (Hey, I'm a very strong-minded woman and I can be a bit *cough* stubborn/bossy/whiny/moody/bitchy but he has been the only man in my life to call me out on it.  If someone you love is telling you you're being an asshole, you're PROBABLY BEING AN ASSHOLE!)  He was never mean or rude about it, but he is just man enough to say so.  We're both very strong minded individuals and I totally respect that about him.  A strong woman needs a strong man!  I can't respect a weak man.  Just can't.  Like I said, he is man enough to cook me a beautiful dinner, take me camping/fishing/shooting, rub my back, and he also knows when I need to pull my head out of my ass and get a fresh perspective on things!  It's so nice to have all of that in one package.  (I'm not saying he's perfect, he's not, he's just perfect for me.)

I was lucky enough to meet my soul mate in 1999.  Unfortunately, we were in different places mentally, socially, and professionally.  We both knew we were meant to be together but after trying for several years we called it off.  It was the most painful breakup I've ever experienced.  Yet it truly wasn't a "breakup" because time after time we kept reaching out to one another, both hurting, both yearning, yet both knowing it still wasn't right.  Now, at last, we have reconnected once again and it's as if all the pieces finally fit.  It just FEELS RIGHT. I'm going to be spending a long weekend with him soon and see how things are between us.  We have spoken several times a day for the past few weeks and it's as if time hadn't passed at all.  We feel different as people yet the feelings of love remain.  We've had time to mature and experience more of what we don't want and can now appreciate and acknowledge what we DO want...each other.

I don't know what the future holds but I do know this:

No one else has or will ever compare to him.  No one else will ever measure up to him.  He is the standard by which I've compared all others against.  

That may not have been fair but it was how I felt in my heart.  He is truly "The One" for me.  If things do not work out for us this time around, I am truly done with love.  He has my heart, he had it then, he has it now, and he will always have it.  I sincerely want things to work out between us this time and I have a lot of positive signs that they will.  I'm just saying, honestly, that if it doesn't, I am finished with love and romance.  I will throw myself into my work and become the neurotic crazy cat lady who writes books and lives in a remote cabin.

I'll keep y'all informed.

Here is Etta James singing, "At Last".  A true Classic. 

C is for Calling Stephen King; A to Z Blogging Challenge

CALLING STEPHEN KING

(yes, I really did!)

The year was 1983.

I was almost 13 years old and already a die-hard Stephen King fan.  

That summer, I had just finished reading, "Salem's Lot" and I was hooked. The book was so good and the writing had moved me in such a way that I wanted to talk to the author.  I had to tell him that he had inspired me to become a writer as well.  I wanted to pour out my young heart and soul to this man whom I felt understood the dark passionate things that lived inside me too.  I felt connected to Mr. King in a way I hadn't felt about another writer.  It wasn't a crush, it was sheer love and admiration of a man who wrote about the demons and the dark side that were beginning to emerge and blossom in my adolescent soul.  

So, I picked up the phone and called him.

Let me tell you how THAT went ...Remember, we are dealing with early 1980's "technology".

I go to the kitchen and get the phone, take it into my room, pulling the cord under my door.  I shut my door and lock it.

I get my copy of "Salem's Lot" (hardback of course) and flip to the back of the dust jacket.  I know that he lives in Bangor, Maine.

I got my handy-dandy phone book and looked in the front section for area codes by state and region.

#AtoZchallenge

Finding the area code for Bangor, Maine (207), I picked up the phone and dialed (literally, rotary dialed) the following number.  If you are over 40, you'll recognize it immediately.

1+207+555-1212.

Back in the 80's, you could dial any area code plus the "555-1212" and be connected with a live, local operator and ask for a specific phone number.  This real person would then look it up and read it back to you.  Live.  (Really, I'm not making this up.)

I dial Bangor information and wait.  The operator answers in her thick New England drawl.

Operator:  "Bang-ah infahmation, what listing please?"

Nervously, I say, "Stephen King, please."

Operator:  "One moment please.(clicking and whirring noises in background) That numbah is two ah seven...(and oh how I wish I still had the rest of this information...)."

Me:  "Thank you."

Operator:  "Thank you for calling New England Bell."  (Click.  Dial tone.)

I place my finger over the handset cradle, resetting the call, and proceed to dial Mr. King's house just like a kid calling her uncle on his birthday.  I have no idea what I'm going to say or if I'll even get to speak with him. I'm not nervous,  just giddy with excitement.

A man answers on the third ring.

Man:  "Hello?"

Me:  "May I speak with Mister Stephen King please?" 

(my parents raised me to have impeccable phone manners)

Man:  "Speaking."

Me:  <shocked silence>  "Oh...HI!  Um, hi, um, my name is Tammy and I just wanted to call you and tell you I love your books and I want to be a writer just like you."

Stephen King:  "Oh, (chuckle) well thank you very much.  I'm glad you like my books.  (pause) Which one did you like?"

Me:  "Salem's Lot.  It's soooooooo good! It's really scary and I'm gonna read it again."

Stephen King:  "Glad you liked it.  So, you want to be a writer?"

(At this point I am THRILLED to be talking with my literary hero and the *famed writer* Stephen King.  I am ecstatic.  My heart is pounding in my chest, my tongue is doing knots and twists, but I manage to eek out a somewhat cohesive thought in the English language.)

Me:  "Oh yes, I love to write and I write all the time and I keep a diary and I do really well in English class at school."

(Floating on air and feeling like I've died and gone to Heaven,  I think to myself, "I am ACTUALLY having a conversation with Stephen-Freaking-King"--when I am rudely knocked back down into reality by...)

*POUNDING ON DOOR*

My mom (gawd love her):  "Tammy SUE! Is that LONG DISTANCE?"

Stephen King:  (background laughter) Um, ya know I should probably let you go now.   Ah don't want to get you in trouble.  Thanks for calling me though, I appreciate hearing from my fans. Keep writing."

Me:  "Okay, um, sorry, it's my mom. It was really awesome talking to you Sir.  I will keep writing, I promise.  I gotta go.  Bye."

Stephen King:  "Bye." (Click.  Dial tone.)

Me:  "Maahhhh aaaamom!  That was Stephen King! I'm totally embarrassed."

Mom:  "A boy?  You called a boy?  Who is Stephen King?  Was it long-distance?"

Whatever the 1983 version of the *facepalm* was, I did it.  It was probably something akin to an eyeball roll combined with an angst-y sigh.  

I still couldn't help but smile, even though our talk was brief and cut short by my mom's knocking.  From that day forward, I read every Stephen King book that I could get my hands on.  I never did call him back and I never told anyone his phone number.  I know I wrote about that call many times in my diary but I didn't brag about to my friends.  To me, it was something sacred that I wanted to keep to myself and treasure.  I cherish that memory but I thought it was time to take it out, dust it off, and share it with the world.  I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Well.  There you have it. 

My one claim to literary fame.

I'll never forget that phone call for as long as I live.

And Mister King, if you ever read this, THANK YOU.

I never did stop writing.

All images are either my own photographs or free public domain photos.  No copyright infringement intended.  Used for illustrative and artistic purposes only.  No part of this this blog may copied or used without giving proper credit to the author.