Rolling the Dice Blog

Here you will meet local writers spreading their stories of success, struggle, and everything in between. Many stories may have to do with the gaming community,but some are just tales of life. We hope these will be entertaining, thought provoking, and relatable.

A Method to Madness By:Marcie -“The Linguist “

Posted by on Oct 18, 2017 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on A Method to Madness By:Marcie -“The Linguist “

This writing might upset my family. I’ll apologize up front. I’m sure it will dishearten them to
hear what I have to say.
In 1997, I decided I couldn’t be a Methodist anymore.
I had been a pretty straight-laced one, too. I mean, I had many good examples to follow. My
grandparents, my parents, our youth group leaders, and Pastor Charlie who got me through my year of
Confirmation classes were all good Methodists to learn from. I was convinced that they were right—and
I’m still convinced that they all taught me how to strive to be the best person I should be.
I still think the Methodists have good ideas on how to be a decent person—have faith, do good
works, don’t be an alcoholic or drug addict. Thos all seem legitimate—good ways to get along with
others. Really, I wouldn’t mind if more people held to these things.
But let’s jump ahead. College came along, and like most college students I began to question the
beliefs I’d had and the values I’d been raised with up to that point.
Sophomore year I signed up for a literary journalism-based class with my boss from the
university’s writing center—Dr. Vecchio. I wasn’t certain what I was getting into, but Don was cool and
had encouraged me to give it a shot.
The major assignment of the term was a lengthy assignment that involved a double-digit page
requirement of written analysis on a topic of our choice. Something inside me said: investigate your
faith. The Sunday after we got the assignment I was at Central United Methodist for worship service,
and I stayed after to befriend the local pastor, hoping he would be a source of information for the
questions I had never really investigated about United Methodism prior.
He was quick to set up an appointment with me to come back later in the week, assuring me
that he’d have books I could have to get started. I headed back to my dorm to brainstorm and plan.
It’d been awhile since I’d been to a service, not wanting to go on my own every Sunday in a city
where I didn’t know anyone beyond the college campus boundaries. I’d been uneasy, even tearing up
some. I wrote it off to missing my family who should have been there in the pew, too. I didn’t know then
that it was likely one of those uncommon examples of foreshadowing in real life. By the end of the
semester I’d see things weren’t bound to be a happy ending.
After finishing some assignments when I got back to my room, I started on my list of questions. I
knew how the Church told us we could be saved and make it to heaven. I knew about the rather
ridiculous instructions for hymn-singing in the front of every Methodist hymnal (and only the
instructions are bizarre—like any Methodist-at- heart, I love singing hymns). I’d even read about the
Methodists being supporters of the labor movement throughout American history. But how did the
Church think I should feel about suicide? Or euthanasia? Abortion? My LGBT friends? Were my personal
thoughts on those going to line-up with how the Methodists thought I should think?
Days later, I was sitting across from the pastor asking about the topics I’d considered. Briefly he
shared one- or two-sentence responses, for a funeral had come up that had had to cut into our
appointment together. He made up for it though, as promised, with books of the Church—and on that
piqued my interest most—The Book of Discipline. This book is the doctrine of the Church (and strangely,
one I hadn’t recalled hearing about in my catechism, but may be with a terrifying title like that, my pre-

teen mind had blacked it out). With a promise to meet again, the pastor saw me out and I lugged my
new sources down the street to the university library.
My answers I encountered on my own were not what I had cautiously hoped for—hypocrisy was
what I found, and it disturbed me. The bit we’d learned about in Confirmation—that “The United
Methodist Church acknowledges that all persons are of sacred worth” seems like it’s a bit of bunk when
you keep reading. All people can attend church, but my gay friends couldn’t be ordained as ministers or
be married in the Church (an idea which persists, aggravatingly, even to today). Suicide, understandably
frowned upon, was joined by euthanasia and abortion as negatives, too, though admittedly nowadays,
the Church seems to say in the 2016 version of The Book of Discipline that there might be exceptions for
abortion, as “we are equally bound to respect the sacredness of the life and well-being of the mother.”
How generous.)
The bottom line was soon apparent: I couldn’t go along with what I was supposed to agree to
after researching and writing that essay. The storm churned around in me for years. I’d go to church
with my family to try to do what I figured was the right thing, but would have those tears come back
nearly every time I attended, guilty for being there and going against my own beliefs, and then
alternating with shame that the Church I’d respected, and been a happy member of for so long could
have such heinous opinions that didn’t’ seem to show that value of the sacredness of life that I held in
highest regard. My husband and I married in the United Methodist Church (to follow tradition and to
avoid the complication of paying for a sacrament in the Catholic Church) but I’d not been to a service in
ages before our marriage education classes with my parents’ minister. But I didn’t feel all that guilty
about that at least—and I’d even gotten through the ceremony without too many tears. I guess I’d been
able to kid myself for one afternoon at least.
No, the guilt comes back around in the feeling on Sunday mornings that I’m betraying my
relatives and the tenets that they held to for at least a few generations back.
But was I rejecting them? I’ve decided finally that I am not. I still try to live as I was raised—to
treat others justly by the Golden Rule—to try to be temperate (most of the time) in all aspects of
activities—and to have faith in the goodness of others and to show my own goodness through good
works to help others. No construct is needed to be a good person, at least not for me. I don’t need a
church of law and structure to make sure I’m living a worthwhile life. And I refuse to discount others
because they don’t fit the dogma of that constructed faith—or any other one for that matter.

About Us

Posted by on Oct 18, 2017 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on About Us

This blog is meant to be different from the rest. Everyone is different and we wanted to be just as unique.
How will we do that? By having a topic that will change periodically and that all of us will write about here.
Check back often to see what we’re up to, and here’s hoping you can find some perspectives to identify with—Enjoy!

Our first topic is:  Coming Our Stories

With this topic, that was why this blog went live and was debuted on National Coming Out Day in support of all the people who come out in one way or another, and for the ones who continue to have to come out as time goes on. We salute your bravery, and decided to share some of our own.

Introductions

Posted by on Oct 11, 2017 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on Introductions

The imagination and our words can sometimes prove to be our strongest weapon in a world where escape is often needed. This is true in not only the world of writing and reading but this also rings true in the world of gaming. This is why we are here. A group of people came together, some table top gamers, some writers, a common ground was found and we all decided we wanted to share our stories, together. Here you can find stories of fiction, non fiction, tales of life, and tales of gaming.

Some of the writers have chosen handles and being that you will see several works from these people , let’s give them a proper introduction (these will not be the only contributing writers on this blog however they are the main players if you will) :

Anthony : Anthony is an explosive ball of positive energy. Whether he is hunting down a fly ball in a charity kickball game or simply saying “hi”, he is a passionate exuberance that is contagious. Anthony spends his days mentoring youth and working with organizations as much as he can. You are sure to catch his smiling face through various charity and community events in the Wyoming Valley.

“The Meme Addict”: Under one of his other names Karl he is most widely known for his performance as the son on the walk………….. OK, he isn’t that Karl but he WILL delight you with his wit and dry sense of humor that will not only leave you laughing, but on the tip of your toes. Deep down his love for animals, both furry and reptilian, as well as his dedication to his lovely wife show his softer, sweeter side.

Marcie – “The Linguist” : Marcie is a wordsmith, bibliophile, and guardian of the arts. She dabbles in the written, sung and spoken word. Previously she has resided in Danville and Pittsburgh. She currently lives in Scranton, Pa with her husband, Pete and their feline family. She despises downtime and enjoys crocheting, chicken and waffles, and anything pertaining to Pittsburgh.

“The Curator”: “The Curator” they whisper in hushed tones of awe throughout the halls of the Smithsonian, humbled by her encyclopedic knowledge of Latin American history and piracy “aargh”, she responds in begrudging acknowledgement, then ” AAAAAH!” as she flees a rain of snakes.

Elle- “The Animal Lover” : Elle is a modern day artist with the flare for nostalgia. She works to create a space for gamers, artists, writers, and the like to come together. She is positivity without the pep, and sweetness with a sass. She is a unique spirit and can usually be found rescuing cats, with her cats…..cats…..getting cat tattoos, cats. She lives with her husband and you guessed it, their four cats, Otis, Puglsey, Aldous, and Lana.

Al : A big fan of the Red Sox and marsupials, Al home brews and has an affinity for outdoor fires. A Kester’s regular, he also enjoys making french fries, writing kids books, and infecting others with his sonorous guffaw. He calls Luzerne, Pa home. but his heart is in Happy Valley.

“Tales From Under The Afghan” : As she sits by candlelight as the sun rises in the distance, tales from under the afghan emerge as shadows on the wall. She sees beyond a smile. She sips her coffee for comfort in acknowledging truth, her advisor and comrade. The pen is her sword as she conquers the dreams and terrors of her neighbors. An afghan is more than her cloak, but an armor to brave the coming of adventures, in her head. Listen.

“The Mystic”: No one knows from where or whence she came, but it is whispered among the indigenous peoples of the Luzerne County that she swirled in existence sometime before the creation of the mobile phone and after the invention of chicken tendies. When not gathering secrets and inspiration, she enjoys making jewelry from the bones of her enemies, painting portraits of animals, and getting into heated debates on social media. Currently she resides in the hinterlands of Penn’s Woods, determined to forge an alliance between the Larksville Whistlepig Militia and the Feral Catlords of Kunkle.

“Captain Tangent”: When he is not out on his intergalactic bounty hunting assignments, he composes wild missives about – Hey Wait! Speaking of wild, I have this idea about badgers….OOOOhhhhhh, and then there was the time, I tried to collect a bounty on a three-assed Space Badger.

 

Look for works from these amazing people as well as others soon!