It's Just Not That Simple

Yes - a post about guns. But probably not in the way you would expect from me at this point. A couple of years ago, after yet another mass shooting and another long, drawn out argument with people I was surrounded by, it struck me that none of us had very many facts. There are a lot of reasons for this, not the least of which is that the US works pretty hard on behalf of companies to *not* study gun-related tragedy. And many of us are manipulated by our emotions, pretty hard-pressed to maintain a cool head when you see the names of little kids being murdered while at the same time politicians are screaming at you that your liberty is under attack - from the president to terrorists. We're not robots after all.

However this *has* been studied by many, many other people without the aid of government. And this realization happened at the same time someone recommended this podcast to me, which in turn sent me down a long path of research that challenged many of the things that I thought about gun control. It's not a particularly easy task to undertake un-brainwashing yourself in whatever degree it needs to happen. At this point most of us are pretty aware we have stupid thoughts about things we didn't even realize. Be it guns, sex workers, multi-gender bathrooms - you name it. A lot of us have to unlearn stupid shit, usually on our own.

Now don't get me wrong. A measure of gun control would serve to mitigate some of the effects of firearm related death in the United States, just probably not in the way that you think. It certainly wasn't in the way that I thought. Some of it was obvious and some of it wasn't. And it's pretty hard to admit to yourself that we live in a country that not only tells us it's our right to own guns but it's our privilege to kill people, as we devalue life here on a pretty regular basis - our own and others. And of course, we know the people who convince us our liberty is under threat are taking it from us, not by way of the second amendment, but by pressing that boot down a little harder in easier to miss ways: voter id laws, arming police forces with military grade weapons, making it illegal to protest in certain places, etc... They don't need guns to do it.

I want to live in world without guns. This will not happen in my lifetime. Maybe it will happen never. But it can be worked for, and that, in turn, can make things better and safer for many, many of us. Including gun owners, who by and large support gun control measures. This is true, you can easily look this up. They don't want to be shot any more than anyone else.

There will always be these people who will be the outliers, who kill many people for seemingly no reason. But there are reasons - you just can't always see them unless you look deeper. And it's complicated, visceral, and at times terrifying. Knowing that not all these mass shootings can be prevented is also something you're going to learn. Not to say some of them can't be, but not all of them can be. Again. We're not robots, we are flawed, broken human beings.

But at this point the conversation needs to change. 

There is a very real discussion to be had about mental illness and guns and it has little to do with mass shootings and everything to do with firearm-related suicide that numbers into the double digit thousands every year in this country. Most of those 30,000 deaths you hear about are not because of school shootings. And yes, the conversation needs to happen about why 19 years olds have access to military grade weapons-obviously-don't only react when it happens. Take the time to learn. Things will change. It is not easy and it is challenging and it will make you angry, sad, and defeated. But it will also open up your eyes that one seemingly simple solution doesn't exist and yes, someone will always scream about the second amendment, in turn missing the entire point of both freedom and liberty but that's okay because that's not your audience anymore. 

I encourage you to use this Two-Part episode (Starting at #39 titled Guns) as a jumping off point. And if you really want to know, get past the first pages of research that is only from places like Fox News and the NY Times and learn:

Science Vs.

Boycotting the State of the Union

It's no secret that POTUS is a size queen. Numbers and ratings are all that matter. This is one of the first times that I can remember that I will not watch the State of the Union and whereas I know it is tempting to do so since it will no doubt be a spectacle-NOPE.
With that in mind, allow me to proffer to you a list of things that my partner & I came up with that you can do instead of watching the continued demise of the nation. Complete with a playlist for all your frustration and rage.
And besides, all the best parts will be memes about 5 seconds afterwards. 

Things to do instead of watching the State of the Union:
-Make Tacos
-Grab yourself by the pussy
-Get someone to spank you with a magazine
-Gold plate a toilet
-Dress like a lady
-Dress like a Gentleman
-Dress like a clown
-Quit Twitter
-Click on non-Trump stories on CNN, NYT, AND WAPO. You don’t even have to read them(but you should). 
-Register to vote. 
-MN DFL caucuses start next week(Feb. 6th), do you know where yours is being held?----->DFL.

-Donate to a female candidate.
-Call your reps and leave them a message explaining why you are not watching the SOTU.
-Make new protest signs cuz we’re gonna need them.
-Do some witchcraft.
-Donate to Black Lives Matter.
-Take the time to learn about Trans Rights and what the community faces. 
-Take this Buzzfeed quiz to show how you are also a very stable genius: Very Stable Geniuses Genus

AND THE MUSIC! 
State of the Union Playlist:

20,000 Hardcore Members - Messiah
Won’t Get Fooled Again - The Who
Paranoiattack - The Faint
BattleFlag - Lo-Fidelity All Stars 
Make Things Right - Sultan and Shepard
More and Faster - KMFDM
Don’t Believe the Hype - Public Enemy 
Straight Outta Vagina - Pussy Riot 
How to be a Millionaire - ABC 
Doomsday - Nero
Professional Griefers - DeadMau5 and Gerard Way 
Nazi Punks Fuck Off - Dead Kennedys 
I Fought the Law - covered by Green Day
You Talk Too Much - RunDMC
To All New Arrivals - Faithless
Bad Reputation - Joan Jett
Pussy - Lords of Acid
Don’t Argue - Cabaret Voltaire 
From Russia with Love - David Arnold featuring Natacha Atlas

*Bonus-Laibach has the whole facist mood down to an art form, so if you're feeling it, include their theme from Iron Sky which, if I understand correctly, is a movie about moon Nazis.

Resistance

2017 is a year I've started referring to as the Empire Strikes Back. Because it feels to me that there is a decreasing in size group of people who seem to think the only way to be is the way that they are and that way to be is narrow-minded, classist, racist, sexist, and bigoted. And what's worse is they do it all in God's name. 

I have always been one for politics. I have been writing letters and contacting my representatives since I was a young child as my mother never really kept her opinion to herself. It was a strange thing to experience in hindsight as I look back at our home life. But that is a story for another time. My mother was in touch with our representatives so frequently they invited her to parties and fundraisers even though we had no money. Simply because they knew that she cared. I wish I had all my letters from way back when. I don't but I do have some from a couple of decades ago still. She was even on the news for things that she would stand up for a couple of times. I mean seriously, she was involved. Unfortunately, as her mental health declined so did her activism. But she never forgot to remind me to vote. I have voted since I turned 18 in as many elections as I could be available to vote in. I was less aware of them (such as smaller, local races) 20 years ago as I am now, but at one of my more recent caucuses I was the youngest person in our group who had been to the most caucuses and primaries. Things matter to me. 

This passed year was no exception. Like many people I was horrified and shocked by the outcome of the presidential election and with each passing day having someone in power who doesn't seem to care about anyone but themselves is unsettling to say the least. Even this morning there are threats of nuclear war. This is the 21st century and this is what we wake up to these days. What's even more disconcerting is that their are others who think this is a good idea. People who support this person. To think that you could support the annihilation of another country or group of people is downright evil to me. I don't like using the word evil because I find it dramatic, cartoonish, and used to dismiss things that are more complicated than one emotion, but in this case I'd say it fits. If you think people deserve to die simply because they are different from you-you really need to spend sometime reflecting on what kind of human you are and if you do it in the name of God-well, I can't even begin to imagine the cognitive dissonance. 

Because of this passed presidential election, my activist gene has kicked back into high gear. I went to protests, wrote letters, made calls, gathered people to participate, donated, and have done my best to support businesses that are inclusive(which often seems impossible, but I do try). I spend time researching anything I see people talking about and I quit Twitter because wow do I think that is HUGE part of the problem. 

The one year anniversary of the astonishingly well attended Women's March Protest is approaching and I am seeing more and more about the Mid-term elections which are so crucial this time I can't even imagine what might happen if things don't change. For a while I saw no hope. I was quite frankly traumatized by the outcome of the election. The idea that so many people supported someone who thinks it's funny to harass and assault women, who is racist and makes fun of differently abled people, who sees anyone with a different skin color and looks at them as an enemy, who thinks our planet is a trash can-I was not in a good place. 

However, I see more and more reasons to be hopeful and if anything came out of this garbage election it is that people are becoming more and more aware that the world is bigger and more diverse than they ever could've imagined. That on the whole, your average person wants the same things they do: to be healthy, employed, and not contributing negatively to the world-no matter what they look like and that has helped. Just like going to these events helped. Seeing so many people ready to fight for what they believe-it pulls you out of the dark place. Plus, there is something immensely empowering about genuinely exercising your rights. In America, people constantly holler about gun rights forgetting we have a whole bunch of other ones that are in my opinion a whole helluva lot more important. Without the others, there's no point in having a gun. Because what the hell are you defending then? The right to own a weapon? That is not what America is about and it's not even what the second amendment is about-and using your rights reminds you of that-using your voice and your vote reminds you of that, you're not fighting for your right to own gun, you are fighting for your rights to exist, thrive, and to belong to something much bigger than any one person. 

And even though we seemed determined as a country to do every dumb ass thing every other country has already done and suffered the poor results of which easily could've been avoided, I do believe there is truth that America is the only country that was founded on a good idea.

Measuring CONvergence in Decades, Part 2

The second time I attended CONvergence, which was the third year of the event, was a strange affair for me. Very strange indeed. I was ill. 104 degree fever type of ill.
But I was not going to miss the convention. I double-checked with my doctor that I was not contagious and, since what I was diagnosed with was meningitis, after a week I was given the ok to head back out in public. It wasn’t a great idea - I actually stayed sick for well over a month and experienced migraines from the spinal tap I had to have. I wouldn’t say I am overly gifted with common sense. (It also turned out that my diagnosis was probably wrong since the spinal fluid tests are pretty much inconclusive for several of these mosquito-borne illnesses. They just treat your symptoms as best as they can.)
I didn’t have a hotel room, but at one point I had to go get one before I passed out from my fever as I was trying to watch masquerade from the tech table and almost fell off. This particular CON passed in a bit of a haze, as my headache meds kept me from thinking too clearly. I do recall that I went to several panels about prop-making that were just awesome, and kept walking around and around the parties trying to decide if I wanted to host one. By the end of the convention I was sure that I did and had the only semi-ok idea of a villains party. I ended up dismissing the idea quickly because as I threw out the idea to people they kept bringing up Disney villains and I was pretty much sick of Disney at this point in my life. (They have been slowly winning back my love with the female relationship focused movies now.)
I did spend time in the main foyer of the hotel talking with different people throughout the night after my fever broke and I couldn’t sleep. 
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do or who I was going to do it with, but I definitely decided to have a party. 
When the convention was over I was spending a lot of time collecting comic books that I wanted. It suddenly occurred to me that my favorite one, The Sandman, was filled with party themes. Plus, a lot of my new friends were Sandman freaks the way I was, so it made sense. 
Welp, it didn’t work out for a lot of random personal reasons… some serious, some not. 
So go to the convention, wander the parties and finally get someone who genuinely wants to try hosting a room party. Little did we know what we were getting into…
We settled on trying to put together some sort of Library of Lost Dreams. Books, as many of you will know, feature prominently in the Sandman series. Creating a bit of the atmosphere became the goal. The first big decorating project ever attempted for CON became bookshelves. It seemed like we should just carry in shelves and fill them with books but seriously, who wants to haul around boxes of books in the heat? No one. Plus there was nothing about that idea that seems particularly wonderful. It was too literal - not the impression of an illusion which parties should possess. The big catch with these things is also the amount of money you have to spend. Because, especially at this point, we were on a budget. (I might add I can’t even begin to describe what I would do with a giant budget… just know it would be spectacular, spectacular*.)
Brainstorm. When you are stuck, get everyone you can around you and just start throwing ideas out, no matter how dumb they may seem. We had already decided that we wanted one big project to center the decorating around and we knew we wanted it to be book related. I had collected dollar reprints of Sandman comics to make a collage wall (which was both met with adoration and horror during the CON “How could you cut up comics?” ). We cut giant, foil paper butterflies for the ceiling, had a project from a co-host's previous event, and some smaller details. It just took time to figure out the book part.
Cut to the idea of seeing if used bookstores had books they didn’t sell. 
Turns out that they often do. In fact, the bookstore we went to I ended up working at for many years, and long before that they gave us many, many old books which were not fit for selling that we could reuse.
We sat for more hours than I can possibly count, taking the spines off of old, sometimes rotting books. We had to cut through ancient glues, papers and dried up leathers. Sometimes finding highly unpleasant things in them. In addition, in order to recycle them we had to take them completely apart, which took somewhere near the end of time. 
We used 4’ x 8’ sheets of wood to be the backdrops of the shelves and became very familiar with the use of a glue gun, and thus the Library of Lost Dreams came together (and after many years of party decor, it is now a permanent resident at the Saloon as a Goth Prom decoration). 
The party went off pretty well. However, I immediately took note of the fact that, despite seeming like we had too much decor, I didn’t think we had enough. When all was said and done that CON, the room was still a hotel room, and that wasn’t good enough for me, so for the next year leading up to CONvergence the ideas got some water in order to grow.

We also managed to not have enough alcohol to serve people and ran out at one point. I had baked 400 chocolate chip cookies and those disappeared very quickly. Getting comfortable with greeting the most awkward of people, trying not to put your foot in your mouth, and trying to make sure all the rules (which sometimes are not always clear) were heeded - the first year was a learning experience. And many, many notes were taken…

*Five points for Gryffindor if you caught my Moulin Rouge reference.

Part one is here, if you missed it.

Snatching Defeat from the Jaws of Victory

Facebook reminded me of this from a year ago-I forget that this happened. It can be so easy to get mired down in your missteps and failures you can’t see the successes. Some of the best advice I was given by a different *very successful* writer was to celebrate every victory *no matter how small*. I don’t always remember to do this and I should. Don’t get me wrong: don’t stop being critical of yourself because otherwise you won’t get better. But try not to let it become such a force in your life that you also never realize when you’ve gotten better or worse yet-it paralyzes you. This is something I am definitely working on. As well as using the critic voice and instinct and learning to trust it. For example in my case, I am currently in the process of redoing the first chapter of my first book because it is arduous(it is being rewritten for submission to different publishers) and when I read it again the first time(I might add I had already rewritten it 2 other times and thought I was done with it this time) I couldn’t figure out how to change it but my gut was telling me it wasn’t right. I finally set it aside convinced I couldn’t “kill my darlings” as the saying goes and really you don’t have to kill them. BUT you sure as hell better be ready to edit and rewrite them over and over. I recently had another example of my seeing something as a failure when actually it wasn’t: in recent conversation about my currently printed novels and being told they did well. I didn’t see it that way and said, “but none of them made it into the top 10.” It was then pointed out to me that everything I have put out thus far has made it into the top 100 and was followed with, “do you have any idea how many books there are in the world? On Amazon?” I didn’t and then I was informed somewhere around 2-3 million. Most with very large publishing houses behind them. It was nice to hear that but of course, it wasn’t enough. It’s called a creative process for a reason and until you get into the deep shit of it you don’t really get it. You are never going to pull the perfect book(album, painting, sculpture, etc…) from your ass the first time and if you do, then what? Then nothing. You cease to exist. 
Celebrate the successes, no matter how small. There’s plenty of failures to stew in for later.

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And if you are so inclined you can get my ebook here.

Climate Change

I would really like to have something deep and profound to say about climate change and helping the planet survive humans. 

I don't have much to say that hasn't been said already and really I am not important enough in any way for anyone to care what I think about much of anything these days.

No problem.

What I do know is that I love nature and getting to see flowers and rain and trees and animals. I've seen humpback whales and dolphins and blue morpho butterflies. I've been in the Grand Canyon and on a volcano.

I love the lake by my house and the deer that roam through it. 

All these things mean so much to me and I can't understand how it is that others do not care. And even intentionally destroy these things and living creatures. I am weary of a lot of humanity these days. The funny thing is I have no long term investment in this planet. I have no children and as such no grandchildren. Yet I care very deeply about it's future.

I am not going to pretend I am some paragon of green living but there are things I do try and do consistently to help. I wonder often if everyone would pick three things to change and commit to how it would help our planet and in the long term themselves. Keep our air clean and our water drinkable, things we all need. It seems in many ways America especially is moving backwards. Maybe that's not the case and most of us stand on the same side to go forward. Numbers suggest that most of the country believe and want action taken on climate change. Somehow (I say somehow though I know it's not much of a mystery) we've managed to put in power people who do not care about anything as long as they line their pockets and apparently many houses with gold bars. This is the legacy they want? Who is going to be around to care? The "greatest" figures in our history often protected nature and parks. And yet...I could write 'and yet' about a million times.....

Here is a nice, clipped article on a few small things you can do to help: Fight Climate Change

I also have a short fairy tale for sale that is a fundraiser for the Climate Science Legal Defense Fund: here on Amazon and here on iBooks

I doubt I am helping but who am I not to try somehow. 

A few reflections for the end of 2016.

Things I learned or have grown to understand more deeply this year:

Being CONCERNED is not the same thing as being UNDER THREAT

Feminism means ALL WOMEN. Not just the ones *YOU* deem ok. Whether they are a stripper (I picked that word intentionally because of it’s negative implications), a stay at home mother or a doctor, regardless of the color of their skin-ALL WOMEN. I repeat ALL WOMEN.

Calling someone names for doing something wrong is not helpful. (See also: leave people the fuck alone on planes)

Shaming any WOMAN or any PERSON for being naked is SLUT SHAMING. Whether you agree with their politics or not or their view of themselves and their body.

Read opinions you do not agree with and do not *respond* to them. READ THEM, THINK ABOUT THEM and FIGURE OUT HOW TO LEARN FROM THEM. Learn to listen. Responding is NOT listening (See also: people fighting on Facebook) 

You don’t want to pay for abortion clinics, I don’t want to pay for wars. WE ALL PAY FOR SHIT WE DON’T WANT TO PAY FOR and that is never going to change.

You are not always right. No doubt about that one. That goes for each and every one of us. 

 And yes, there is always something YOU can do to help. ALWAYS. 

 Just because you cannot fight every battle does not mean you should not fight any.

 

2017 looks to be a tumultuous year. Let's hope we remember to look at for each other.

*words from Pinterest

*words from Pinterest

The Unicorn Visit

This weekend during my Open House the election was on everyone's mind. (No surprise)Most especially since many of the people who stopped by stand to lose a great deal with the new administration myself included. The conversation turned to womens health and this bit I wrote was brought up. It was requested I repost it. So here it is. I recently read 72,000 donations had been made to Planned Parenthood in Mike Pence's name. You know what Planned Parenthood help me do? Get antibiotics for my pneumonia when I was a broke twenty something. Now I have insurance through the ACA and like a lot of other people I need my health insurance that's about to be taken from me. And so do my friends. 

The Unicorn Visit

The girl came into her room after being out all night and was surprised to find the unicorn standing by her bed.
“Good morning,” the unicorn said in a clipped British accent. “Did you have a good time?”
Unsure what to say, and feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, she stood awkwardly by the door and shifted around in stocking feet.
“My, my! It must’ve been a good time if you can no longer speak,” the unicorn teased her. 
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she stammered. “I’m just quite shocked to find you in my room. My father said unicorns only visit pure girls. Girls who’ve no sexuality or sexual relationships with anyone. He told me I am not a good person, as I’ve a boyfriend.”
The unicorn raised its eyebrow skeptically. Well, it would’ve raised its eyebrow skeptically if unicorns had eyebrows to raise.
“I beg your pardon, Miss, but I must say, your father is a bit of a judgmental creep. And not just a small amount of a hypocrite,” it finished, muttering to itself.
“What? I’m sorry, Mr. Unicorn, I didn’t hear that last part.” The girl stepped a bit closer.
“Nothing, dear. If you don’t mind, please do not call me ‘Mister’. I prefer to be a non-gender-specified creature so I can visit anyone I wish and not make them uncomfortable. A side note, darling, ask your father what he gets up to on Tuesday nights down at the tavern, and we’ll see how judgmental he is then.”
“Okay?” The girl cocked her head to the side and, sweet as can be, tried to puzzle out what that meant. “What is that on my bedside table?” She pointed past the unicorn.
“Ahh, yes. The reason for my visit. Now, I most assuredly do not presume to judge you for having sexual relations with anyone who is a consenting adult. However, I’ve made it my job to visit people of all shapes and sizes and preferences and make them accountable to their safety and their partners’ sexual safety. One can be fun, but one must also be wise. That’s what we really do, us unicorns… Educate. Honestly, I am quite tired of these silly, faux tales of us running around judging everyone. We enjoy a good romp as much as the next beast. That said, go ahead and open your gifts.”
The girl set her smashingly cute high heels on the floor and wove over to the table. She unwrapped cheerfully festooned boxes full of condoms, birth control, dental dams, and many other things to make life a bit easier.
“Do you think you might find those useful, milady?” the unicorn asked in a silly voice, trying to ease the girl’s discomfort. “Really, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. And most importantly, you should be taking care of yourself. Never mind what these ridiculous people try to tell you to control you.”
“Why, yes, I think I would find them useful.” She turned and looked at the unicorn. “Truthfully, I do get a little tired of hearing the crap people say when I know they are full of b.s. They’re always telling us to look to the princess for virtuous leadership.”
“Believe me when I say, when she gets her chance the princess will speak out, as she enjoys a good time as much as anyone. Now, dear, I also left you a daring little number in the closet. I must be on my way. The princess in question has asked me to visit her ladies-in-waiting. Waiting for what, I always wonder?” The unicorn laughed and strutted out the door, but not before turning around and reminding her, “Being sexually active is a great deal of fun, but do not forget your annual exam.” With that, the unicorn disappeared into a puff of glitter. 
Since we don’t have unicorns, we need Planned Parenthood.

In Summation: Easter Baskets and Why I Miss Getting One.

These days I rarely know when Easter is occurring. Spring things start to show up in stores and then I realize Easter must be on it's way. I don't have any children nor do Christian Easter beliefs line up with my own belief system. But without fail every year I feel a sense of wistfulness at knowing I won't be getting an Easter basket. This year I spent some time trying to figure out what it was that makes me feel this way. I talked to another friend of mine also near my age without children, and a similar feeling about religion and she to felt a sense of sad nostalgia of not getting an Easter basket. She spoke of a loss of a sense of community because church was always fun that day. I agreed with the fun part. We would have picnics and egg hunts and more candy than we knew what to do with. She mentioned always getting a new outfit. This was also something I could relate to as it was one of the only times in a year that I got new clothes at all. This thought also helped me pinpoint what it was about Easter I missed. 

My mother would go all out of most holidays but I always liked this one a little bit more for a reason that most girls would probably shun these days. But for me it was the one time of year I got to be girly and have girly things. 

Growing up my whole life was taking care of a mentally ill mother, cleaning a messy house & yard, taking care of pets (read: cleaning waste in the yard), babysitting, dealing with an abusive, alcoholic father and pretty much only wearing hand-me-down clothes. 

Each year for as long as I could remember my mother made Easter a day that was filled with frills and pastels, bunnies and sparkly bits. Including when I became a young teenager, she started to add pretty smelling body products amongst lovely chocolates. 

I was not only allowed to dress up, I was encouraged to do my hair(start to wear eyeshadow when I was in 6th grade), get my pictures taken, wear a hat, be careful and delicate in my manners. Even my father, who was still awful at the end of the day, would give me something of a break when I was dressed up and part of the festivities. Basically, I got to be a traditional type of fluffy girl. It was not the norm for me and I loved it. 

It was always a nice non-reality for at least part of a day. I can't pretend that once church and egg hunts were over that things were awesome because that wasn't my life. But the mornings and afternoons each year were something of a magical day for me. 

When I started dating my current partner, I tried to start a little bit of a holiday with him but it didn't go over too well. He's not one for holidays much in general and sentiment doesn't come easy for him. I just sort of gave up. I've pretty much worked every Easter since I've been out on my own anyway especially since people around me take it very seriously and their beliefs mean a great deal to them, as they should. And really, obligations to people you generally don't see(for good reasons) and many you don't like, who are not even kind to you around the holidays can make you grow a distaste for them.

It's basically become just another day which makes me a little sad since that seems to be what is expected about most holidays when you become an adult. 

I did get some enjoyment some years ago spending time learning about the history of Easter which is not based at all in Christian religion. The history is long, extensive and filled with mythology from all over the world. Much of it based in Egypt. I encourage you to look into it whatever your beliefs may be today. 

I wish you a happy day however you decide to celebrate. 

 

I will leave you with a link to quite an epic Easter Basket. This woman also creates cakes and Valentine's Day gifts I covet every year. The Vegan Treats Ultimate Lucky Bunny Basket.

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A Fairy Tale for Planned Parenthood: The Unicorn Visit

To quell my frustration over the continued attacks on women's health rights, I've taken to writing fairy tales about it. We'll start here: 

 

The girl came into her room after being out all night and was surprised to find the unicorn standing by her bed.

“Good morning,” the unicorn said in a clipped British accent. “Did you have a good time?”

Unsure what to say, and feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, she stood awkwardly by the door and shifted around in stocking feet.

“My, my! It must’ve been a good time if you can no longer speak,” the unicorn teased her. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she stammered. “I’m just quite shocked to find you in my room. My father said unicorns only visit pure girls. Girls who’ve no sexuality or sexual relationships with anyone. He told me I am not a good person, as I’ve a boyfriend.”

The unicorn raised its eyebrow skeptically. Well, it would’ve raised its eyebrow skeptically if unicorns had eyebrows to raise.

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but I must say, your father is a bit of a judgmental creep. And not just a small amount of a hypocrite,” it finished, muttering to itself.

“What? I’m sorry, Mr. Unicorn, I didn’t hear that last part.” The girl stepped a bit closer.

“Nothing, dear. If you don’t mind, please do not call me ‘Mister’. I prefer to be a non-gender-specified creature so I can visit anyone I wish and not make them uncomfortable. A side note, darling, ask your father what he gets up to on Tuesday nights down at the tavern, and we’ll see how judgmental he is then.”

“Okay?” The girl cocked her head to the side and, sweet as can be, tried to puzzle out what that meant. “What is that on my bedside table?” She pointed past the unicorn.

“Ahh, yes. The reason for my visit. Now, I most assuredly do not presume to judge you for having sexual relations with anyone who is a consenting adult. However, I’ve made it my job to visit people of all shapes and sizes and preferences and make them accountable to their safety and their partners’ sexual safety. One can be fun, but one must also be wise. That’s what we really do, us unicorns… Educate. Honestly, I am quite tired of these silly, faux tales of us running around judging everyone. We enjoy a good romp as much as the next beast. That said, go ahead and open your gifts.”

The girl set her smashingly cute high heels on the floor and wove over to the table. She unwrapped cheerfully festooned boxes full of condoms, birth control, dental dams, and many other things to make life a bit easier.

“Do you think you might find those useful, milady?” the unicorn asked in a silly voice, trying to ease the girl’s discomfort. “Really, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. And most importantly, you should be taking care of yourself. Never mind what these ridiculous people try to tell you to control you.”

“Why, yes, I think I would find them useful.” She turned and looked at the unicorn. “Truthfully, I do get a little tired of hearing the crap people say when I know they are full of b.s. They’re always telling us to look to the princess for virtuous leadership.”

“Believe me when I say, when she gets her chance the princess will speak out, as she enjoys a good time as much as anyone. Now, dear, I also left you a daring little number in the closet. I must be on my way. The princess in question has asked me to visit her ladies-in-waiting. Waiting for what, I always wonder?” The unicorn laughed and strutted out the door, but not before turning around and reminding her, “Being sexually active is a great deal of fun, but do not forget your annual exam.” With that, the unicorn disappeared into a puff of glitter. 

Since we don’t have unicorns, we need Planned Parenthood.

 

Visit Planned Parenthood to donate or get access to healthcare.

In Summation: 30 Days of Giving

A couple of months ago I decided I was going to give away something everyday for 30 days. Well, I actually thought about doing this in December but then got into an argument with myself about the fact that I already give away many things from gifts to money in December as it’s the season for it for me and realized that I had to do this at another time for myself. Especially since I had some very specific things I wanted to give away to some people. It turns out it’s not as easy as you might think to give away something every day for 30 days in a row. In particular if you want it to have any kind of meaning beyond emptying your house. Which to a degree is a nice side benefit of giving away things and certainly has me thinking twice before I buy anything anymore since I realized I did have many things I did not find to be useful or beautiful but knew other people would. I did have a fair amount of things to give away that I did donate to ARC. Things that I did not have a deeper connection to other than perhaps someone gave it to me and I felt obligated to keep it or I had forgotten that I had it. 

There were some unexpected challenges in doing this for me. Not all of them would be the same for all people some are definitely specific to me such as: As a full time writer/at home jewelry maker, I don’t see people everyday. So there were a few times that I walked around the house and made a stack of packages to give away.  Some of the packages took a fair amount of time to put together. There was one that I made for my lifelong best friend that was compromised from many small trinkets and objects from my office. I wrote the origin of every single thing I sent to her into a letter so as to explain why it was seemingly random in the box but actually was not at all random. I put together a few gifts for people with things that meant a lot to me and had special memories. Most of the time the letter I wrote to go along with it didn’t rightly explain why it was important but I did try. One thing that was funny to be honest with myself about was that even though these things had a lot of meaning to me, most of the people I gave things to did not care in the least. Fair enough, what can you do?

Some days I didn’t have an idea of what to give away. I had sent boxes and bags of clothes to donation, gifts to friends and was at a loss. Then I had the idea to look through Facebook to see if there was someone who could use something. This yielded a a few things: The first one was coming across a post by Amanda Palmer in which she was asking people to send things to her sick friend. I really didn’t know what to write in the card simply because I have the hardest time talking about my book but I did send him my book. I actually sent my book to a few other people as well. I also learned about the terrible problem of dogs getting caught in hunter’s traps so I sent money to care for some of the dogs and will likely do so again. That one broke my heart. I made a care package for a friend who unexpectedly had to travel for work. I gave brand new dresses and tops to friends that I had kept with the intention of them “someday” fitting me. Which is just ridiculous because in most of those cases, I’d have to be a completely different person to wear them. 

One of the big uncomfortable truths was getting real with myself about projects I had stacking up forever in my closet. Things that I always thought I really wanted to do and held onto the materials because I really liked the idea of doing these projects. Well the reality of life is that you are not going to do every project you want to do. I have a very hard time with this since it may take me a while to do something but I’ve come to the realization that I am actually someone who finishes projects. What I’ve reconciled with myself is that I have to prioritize what projects matter the most to me. I don’t want to work constantly on things and miss out on having a life or relationships so I picked the ones I knew I would do and let the others go. I passed on materials and ideas to the people I thought would likely do these things or something even better in most cases. It wasn’t easy but at the same time facing the facts was rather freeing. I also have found that I have actually been taking the time to get the things I prioritized done.  Step by step as opposed to ignoring everything because there were so many it was overwhelming me without realizing it. 

Now here is the most unexpected feeling I experienced that quite surprised me. The biggest gift I wanted to give someone got rejected. Several times. And it made me super frustrated. I mean really super frustrated. Like what the hell is your problem I want to give this to you, frustrated. So it turns out that perhaps giving away things isn’t always about the other person. Sometimes it’s about you and how it makes you feel. I suppose that sounds really selfish but it’s the truth. I am the one who has to live with myself and I’d rather feel like I’m at least trying to be generous than not. Of course, part of what you can encounter is the suspicion that comes with doing something for someone when it’s not a socially accepted holiday. They think you expect something in return or even more strangely, think you are judging them for something if you give them something you know they’ve wanted but have never done for themselves. That one definitely floored me. 

A few things I gave away I do miss. That is good though because that means I picked out things to give away that meant something to me. I suppose I’ll add that I gave away a few hundred items. Not just 30. 

There is one thing I’ve considered giving away and I have very mixed feelings about it. I have been considering donating blood. I haven’t done it yet as the ethics of it seem so gray to me. What I mean by that is the blood donation industry is run on anything but donations and is very often not altruistic in nature. I find this shameful in many ways. I don’t know, like I said mixed feelings. I know people need it but, it’s so expensive that it adds enormous debt to the hospital bills of patients which seems really wrong to me. It is something I continue to weigh. 

I’m not sure that I have more thoughts on this at the moment. I may in the future and what’s more I find it likely I will do this again. I mean truly, how many things does a person need? Sharing them seems like a really good idea to me. Especially since people share so many wonderful things with me.

* I did not photograph everything I gave away but here are some snaps to perhaps give you ideas. Have a great day!

In Summation Part 4 or Funny Things From My Last Job

So, I have completely and totally messed up this whole In Summation posts. I can't even tell you why. However, I can tell you that I am picking it back up and again. I am going to start with a funny story from my last job at the bookstore I worked at for 7 1/2 years. It was a pretty great job. People did silly things all the time and here's a good example.

Team of Rivals- wait this isn’t a sports books? 

People have the NOTION of good intentions. They truly want to be more educated and open. Well, at least I think so? 

I have days when I’m just not sure and if I feel that way here with Minnesota being the most educated state in the union: I can’t help but wonder how I would feel elsewhere. 

Allow me to say the usual disclaimer that people feel the need to give when something can be construed as a complaint from their job. I love my job. I really, truly do. 

There is nothing I want to do that doesn’t involve books in some way.

 In fact, this little bit I am about to share is also something I love. These dumb little things people do. Watching it happen brings me some sense of weird joy to notice the strange things people say or do without realizing it. The implications of the things people say tend to resonate further than they realize. It’s curious to see the lack of awareness that even some of the more educated population seems to posses when it comes to certain things they say. Not that we all don’t “stick our foot in our mouth” from time to time. But the reality is I suspect, that most people often just really don’t think through what they are about to say. Thus, also not realizing what it says about them. 

 That out of the way here are a couple of tiny tidbits: I was asked once who wrote “Beowulf”. I explained to this gentleman that in fact, Beowulf was published without an author with a bit of information as to why.

He informed me that books “could not be published without an author” and he “knew” he had seen it somewhere and he’d “find that copy and bring it to me to show me.” That was almost 2 years ago.

 Sue Grafton is an author famous for her mystery series which is titled using the alphabet. In order. The most current is “T” for Trespass”. These books have been around for a very long while. Someone held one up to me pointed to the “T” and asked me what letter came next.

 I answered the phone and was asked to find a book for someone. They told me the title and author. I was unfamiliar with both. I asked if they knew what genre the book was. I was told it was hardcover. 

Now, I could go on like this for a while but I would like to share with you my favourite story from work to date.

 Many of you are probably aware that we have been under a presidency for the last 8 years that was what many considered “anti-intellectual”. You can interpret this to mean a lot things but as of late the interpretation has taken the form of reading.

President Obama is a new sort of man to lead in many ways least of which is love of reading. Something that I personally had joy in my heart about until about a week ago when the words “He is to books what Oprah is” were uttered by a reporter and allow me to explain why. 

 I say with a mix of grand appreciation and trepidation that Oprah sells books. 

 She has revived many a writer’s career and kicked them off as well. She gets people to read. Love her or hate her- Oprah has done a lot of good in the world all around. 

But, the flip side to this is she also responsible for people reading a lot of poorly written books. Things that become mass market printed (never mind the environmental implications) and quickly discarded because it does nothing to further said reader’s intelligence or emotional depth. I suspect, a lot of the books she has never even read herself but gets sold on such stories and decides to roll with it. 

You attach Oprah’s name to anything and a lot of the upper/ middle class want to put their hands on it.

Well, Obama’s reading list now has Oprah’s name attached to it. Most noted as of late has been his affinity for the history book “A Team of Rivals”. It is talked about that he has even used it as an influence for establishing his own cabinet.

(A side note to those who may not know what this book is about: It is a book about President Lincoln’s own presidential cabinet. A man who was an innovator in many ways including making sure to not surround himself with people who only agreed with him. It was of tremendous importance that he be also around people who argued with him every step of the way thus creating a system of checks and balances and open view points. A way for him to understand that his way wasn’t the only way. Something I’d be willing to bet regardless of party affiliation we can all agree on.) 

Day One, Sunday: A woman comes up to me as I am working. She is a very typical customer in the sense she is carrying a list for her book club. She has a very sensible short haircut and is wearing somewhat urban but not “too crazy” funky glasses and high end all weather sports wear. 

 She asks me about the book. She doesn’t know what’s it about nor why her book club chose it. I explain what I know and she seems to listen and I take her to where we have it. It is a very nice book. Normally $35 and we sell it for half. It’s of substantial size being a history book. I pull it out and hand it to her. Her eyes instantly glaze over. 

“Wow, that’s really long. I think I’ll skip this one and geez, it’s expensive ($17.50).”

I say okay and put it back. Reactions to books considered “too long” are something I am accustomed to. 

Day Two, Monday: A male version of the woman comes in the store. Seriously, I think they even have the same REI vest on. 

 He tells me he heard about this book on NPR. He actually, knows what it’s about. I take him over to the shelf pick up the same copy from the day before and hold it out to him. He looks at the cover and he incredulously states, “It’s written by a WOMAN?” 

Right.

Very carefully resisting the urge to state “Yeah, and we can also vote. Can you believe it?” I explain that the woman in question is a noted and well-respected historian who also wrote an incredibly well-received book about baseball.

He simply stares at me like I am an idiot at which point I put the book back on the shelf and walk away. This is not a situation I can win.

Day Three, Tuesday: Another man. Me and my poor timing. He too, looks like white Minnesota. He asks me for the book. I pause, considering the possibility that my co-workers are possibly playing a prank on me. 

I explain what the book is about on the way to the shelf. I have decided my investment in this situation should probably be minimal. 

I get to the shelf, pull the same copy off the shelf and hand it over. He looks at it flips it over and looks straight at me. 

“LINCOLN? Why would I want to read about Lincoln?” 

(sigh)

“I don’t know sir.”

In Summation Part 3 or I'm good at putting my foot in my mouth.

Part of this post is a little bit cheating as I wrote the encounter with Keanu Reeves several years ago. I have realized recently how relevant it is at the moment to my nerves about hosting a party for the launch of my first young adult novel. It will be a three night long affair and since my book goes live that weekend very few people will have read it yet. I'll be explaining over and over about it. At least -I hope I will, some people will really not care. The party part is very exciting but I am one of those people that has a terrible time keeping my foot out of my mouth. Often I am just trying to make a joke about something but that can go horribly wrong sometimes. In this particular case as you can read in a minute, I simply ran out of patience. Which I do not want to happen as I am truly grateful for each and every person who gives my creative endeavors a glance. My anxiety is at an all time high and I'll be writing more soon about an experience that will tell you why I probably should not worry too much about it. But if you care to read it: The first time I was rude to a celebrity. By accident. I swear. 

 

I have no shame (okay, maybe a little shame) in admitting that roughly fourteen years ago I had a crush on Keanu Reeves. (Tall, dark, moody-what can I say? I have a type.) This little fact came out on a night I was out with my new roommates and as you can imagine: it delighted them to no end. 

Thinking I had escaped reproach a few days went by when I came home from work one night to find a pair of tickets to a show for a band called “Dogstar” taped to my bedroom door. 

Not entirely realizing what I was doing I went to Cheap-o and asked about the c.d. The entirely adorable, tattooed hipster boy working at the counter was none too thrilled to show me that it was in fact, the band Keanu Reeves played bass in. He informed me that playing bass meant that you were the guy with the money to foot the bill. Not that he was bitter. 

I took the c.d. home and gave it a listen. Yes, so it was dreadful. I didn’t think twice about the tickets and went over to visit a friend. I laughingly told her about the tickets and the c.d. thinking she too, would laugh at my terrible decision making. She didn’t. In fact, she had the exact opposite reaction, “Let’s go to the show.” 

“Whatever, but I want to go to Bryant Lake Bowl first,” was my response(I was in my big wine drinking phase and oh yeah, all-the-guys-that-work-there-are-hot phase). She agreed to pick me up from work the next night. 

I shall now include the fact that at the time I was working in Calhoun Square and yes she was going to pick me up in her mini-van. This is a pertinent piece of information otherwise, I would’ve just walked you know the three blocks or whatever. The reason this is important to my little tale is because I changed clothes in the van on the way to the bar and brushed my hair. That’s it. Five minutes. Maybe. 

(A fun little fact about this van is that it was basically a garbage truck. Crap everywhere. Including a dog dish that my friend driving said van once peed in when she was drunk, yep.) 

We get to the BLB and sit at the bar. It’s not super busy but there are a of couple guys at the bar. The bartender and I were friendly at this point. He always had something new for me to try so he and I started chatting. Kay (said friend) sits down next to me putting a space between me and the guy closest to me. She turns to me and tells me I look great.  I laugh, because you know, I changed in the van. 

The guy next to her says, “She should look great because I’m sure she spent hours getting ready.”  It was go figure, not said in a particularly nice tone. 

Kay turns to him, “What did you say?” 

“I said she should look great because I’m sure she spent hours getting ready.”

“Mind your fucking business.”

“Just ignore him Kay.” I really had no interest in getting into it with some random guy. Who had clearly just been dumped. 

“Yeah, women think it’s really great to ignore men don’t they?” He leans towards me, “You look like someone I know.” 

“Lucky me. Kay, let’s go sit somewhere else.” 

“No, fuck him. He can move.”  See, Kay liked fights. Especially if there was some sort of perceived threat to women’s rights. There wasn’t, he was just a jerk. I can’t imagine why he got dumped. Plus, I really wanted to have a nice night. Sadly, my idea of a nice night and Kay’s idea of a nice night are different. 

I think you can get the idea what the next three hours between them was like. I myself enjoyed wondering things like, “What would make a better pet; a gila monster or Komodo dragon?” and “Belly button lint: friend or foe?” It was far, far more interesting. 

The up side was the bartender took pity on me and picked out a great many glasses of wine for me to drink which somewhat helped soften the blow to my wasted evening. My point is: I was drunk.  

Kay suddenly jumps up from her seat, “We’re late. The show is already started.”
“Yeah, I mentioned that two hours ago,” I shrugged and kept drinking wine.

Kay’s “date” had wandered off -FINALLY. 

“Well, hurry up, I want to go.” Kay started getting it together to leave.

I’m mildly annoyed at this point as it had occurred to me that perhaps I might want to continue to get drunk and insulted by random strangers but, whatever. 

As we’re leaving Prince Charming returns and shakes Kay’s hand as if they had some well-thought out spirited debate about something that mattered. Not actually just hurling grade school insults at each other to represent the “honor of the sexes.” 

He then turns to me and holds out his hand, “Good Night, beautiful.” 

Yep.

::blink blink:: 

I turn and walk away only to hear my traitorous friend say, “She’s drunk never mind her being rude.” 

Bitch.

We get to the club(The Quest, as you Minnesotans know is now gone) and lo and behold the show is over. Imagine that. 

People are leaving. O.K. *not* many people and the bouncers are blocking the door not letting anyone in.

So, this of course means Kay goes up to the bouncer and asks if she can go in to use the bathroom. I bet you can guess what his answer was and multiple times at that since she didn’t stop asking. 

He finally doesn’t say anything else and just holds up his finger, turns around and goes back into the club and locks the door. 

“Fine, I’m gonna go pee in the alley.” Not an unusual occurrence, I might add. 

I follow somewhat behind her as she hurries up ahead of me for our classy rendezvous. 

I turn a corner to see Kay talking to a girl who looks about 18. In fact, there’s about a dozen women from 18 to about 40 hanging out in the alley. Waiting for the band they inform us. 

Kay loves this idea and keeps telling all the girls how much she loves, “Lonestar.”

“Dogstar, Kay.” 

“Right, I love them.” 

This goes on for a while. I’m completely irritated as we wait and wait and wait. 

“Kay, can’t we go? I’m tired of this.” I realize that drinking would ACTUALLY be more productive.

“Just a few more minutes.” 

They slip right on by.

“OK,” I step in front of her and I’m so annoyed at this point my voice is a bit raised.

“Kay, let’s go. This is stupid. The c.d. sucks and I’m sick of this and what in the hell has Keanu Reeves ever done that is worth a shit? Which, I know is the only reason you want to hang out here and it’s pathetic. He’s the star of a bunch of crappy movies.” 

 

Can you just feel how quiet it was when I turned around and the members of the band we’re standing behind me, Mr. Keanu right in the front. 

I think, “Wow, he’s really tall.”

He says, “So, you didn’t like the show?” 

I shrug my shoulders.

Kay pushed past me and wouldn’t you know, “I love your band Lonestar.”

No one says anything. 

“We didn’t make it to the show.” Common decency would mean I felt awkward and bad at this point. I didn’t. I was still annoyed. 

One band member was talking to other girls who, I have no doubt, we’re a lot nicer than the two of us. The other had already gotten in the car. 

Kay asks him for an autograph and he just looks at me and laughs.

Keanu points out that Kay has nothing for him to sign or to sign with so he hugs her. 

He smiles real big at me and asks if I’ll hug him. 

Nope, I didn’t think twice about it. Bad actor or not he’s still really hot and really tall. 

And a lot of nicer than I deserve. 

He gets in the car and as they’re pulling away he waves to me. 

 

A few days later there’s a review in the City Pages about the show. The first couple of lines contain the phrase “after the band’s putrid set.” 

I've added this cat picture to alleviate the idiocy.

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In Summation Part 2, My Mother's Birthday

OR Why to Chase a Farfetched Dream......

To say my mother and I had a tumultuous relationship is being generous. It was difficult, downright horrible at times. My mother was mentally ill. She suffered from a long time misdiagnosed illness that got progressively worse as she got older. There were days that I wished she wasn’t my mother. There were days that I avoided going home as long as possible. There were stretches of time when I would not tell her a single thing about my life because I got so fed up with continuous miscomprehension and her inability not to live in the past. 

But there were also days that I marveled at my mother’s creativity. Days I felt great pride in the compassion she showed so many. And the days when my mother was the only one who encouraged me to chase my dreams no matter what anyone else thought or told me to do. She also always told me I was beautiful. Sometimes not in the greatest ways. She would say things about not wanting me to gain weight or the way I dressed but it always came back to, “It’s because you are already beautiful.” Something that I took for granted growing up but now realize how much it has shaped how I think of myself as I get older. 

If I am going to be completely honest I have to admit that my mother let some pretty terrible things happen to me growing up. Things that it took me a long time recover from and to forgive her for. The strange thing about that is though she let them happen when I had the chance to escape some of them she did help me escape them. I feel now that it is very likely my mother did not know how to stop these things from happening but only how to try help me survive them. Because I’ve realized more and more when I sort out her life in my head, my mother was a survivor. Sometimes she was the maker of the mess but often she was the victim of it. And I’m not entirely sure she knew that. The worst part of any of this, when bad things happened to her, I’m sure she believed she deserved them. I hate that. I really do because no one deserves bad things to happen to them especially not at the hands of other people. I wish I could change that and I wish I could say my mother had a happy life in her short 49 years but she didn’t. The relationship was hard, complex and sometimes filled with tears. But honestly, it’s the best we could do.   

I don’t find a lot of comfort in generalized platitudes that many people use to simplify what they feel and to comfort themselves. I’m just not that kind of person. Sometimes I hate hearing the truth. Sometimes it hurts and makes me angry, but eventually I always appreciate it more. The truth is our relationship generally sucked. But I miss it. And I wish I still had all the stupid fights and discussions as well as the lucid days that she seemed with me and understanding. It’s nice to think she might be somewhere else living another life, a happier one but I’m not sure that I am that esoteric. What I do know, is even though the ways I went about my life made no sense to her and often downright worried her or pissed her off, (and truth be told it hasn’t always made sense to me either)-she always told me to be happy. Sometimes begrudgingly. But she said it nonetheless. It’s the one thing I knew she really meant. And I try to say it to as many people as possible, don’t be stupid, be happy.