On Holidays and the Malaise That Sometimes Comes with Them

Every time I randomly decide to blog after not having really blogged for a while, I wonder what my problem is as to why I'm no longer the consistent blogger I used to be years ago. I usually just blame the fact that I write professionally for a living because of the way it burns through so much of my creative energy for the week. And honestly, that probably is part of it.

Every so often though, I realize that it's probably more because I don't truly feel like my life is worth recording the way I used to. I don't do anything or go anywhere. I feel like I never have good news or exciting changes to report. I honestly feel like the only thing I really do with my time is work and lie around like a slug attempting to recover from work. While I definitely like being able to eat, I don't get any kind of personal fulfillment out of working for its own sake the way other people do, so it's a problem that that's the only thing I really have going on. 

I guess what I'm saying is I feel like my life kind of blows right now. When I feel like life blows, I feel very little urge to actually record anything about it. This is despite the fact that I've always found journaling to be therapeutic. I know I need to be taking back some of my creative energy for myself now and then, but it's not as easy as it probably should be.

On Election Day

People have never quite understood why I am the way I am. Particularly in regards to why I don't trust the system, wish to be part of society to a greater extent than I absolutely have to, or believe in the inherent goodness of humanity. Something tells me they're starting to understand now.

The thing is I've understood for a while that we live in a garbage society filled with garbage humans that are the very picture of arrogance, entitlement, vanity, hypocrisy, and prejudice. Our society is infected with an illness you can smell even on people that don't see themselves as being anything of the sort and this has been the case for as long as I've been alive. That society threw me away a long time ago in a way I've been painfully aware of for as long as I can remember.

Nothing has really changed as far as the type of world we live in. It's always been like this. You just see it now. You are realizing how big, and bad, and putrid the sickness really is, perhaps for the first time. This election dragged it right out into the open where everyone had no choice but to look at it, smell it, and try not to vomit at the stench. What I am talking about isn't even about politics, really. It is, however, something that has been exposed by politics as such things often are.

On October and the Mineral

We lucked out for a change this year. It's the 20th of October and that disgusting Indian summer weather we normally get in the fall still has not arrived. By now, it's probably safe to say that we're out of the woods. Usually if you can make it past Halloween without it hitting, you can trust that there are no more surprise heat waves just waiting to descend on you that year. Honestly, our entire summer was really pretty mild. Just a few way-too-hot days here and there, but that's it. Good.

I've been feeling incredibly lethargic and fresh out of fucks to give regardless though and that's been the case all summer. We already don't really do much or go out very often, but we didn't even go to the fair for Labor Day last month. That's... like... the one going-out thing I've been good about actually doing every year and I skipped out on it for the first time in a while. That means I never really did my hair or spruced myself up from an appearance standpoint either. I look and feel disgusting lately as a result. Kind of like a cave person, or a potato, or something along those lines.

I feel disappointed in myself because of that, but I'm also realizing I'm past the point where I'm willing to just beat myself up all the time because I don't meet some imaginary standard I've decided to inflict on myself for no good reason. I will always want to do better and be better where my mental health is concerned, but I've also learned to give myself credit for the things do accomplish, even when things are really bad. When I remember to do that, everything sort of comes out in the wash.

On Self-Knowledge and Contradictory Traits

So I took that self-knowledge questionnaire a lot of my friends have been doing lately. The results were interesting and relatively insightful. 

........

RATIONALITY

You like clarity and intelligent simplicity and you get frustrated at messy thinking. This can make you seem unreasonably pushy to some, but it is actually a virtue: you are motivated by a horror at pointless effort and a longing for precision and insight into how things and people work. Your ability to synthesise and bring order is essential in producing thinking which is truly helpful.

INDEPENDENCE

You don’t set out to be different for its own sake; you are more easily guided by what interests and moves you. You are more concerned about what is right for you than about the pressure to fit in. In sex you are more aware than others of impulses which are not entirely conventional. You know the value of selective irresponsibility, of forgetting occasionally about being ‘good’.

PLAYFULNESS

You are good at seeing what’s funny, at relaxing and finding the pleasure of the moment. Play is random, whimsical, fantasy-driven behaviour which releases internal tension. Because it is detached from some pressures it allows you to act on weirder, perhaps neglected, parts of yourself. The downside is that it is no help in sticking with things that are not much fun but which need to be addressed. So it is well complemented by its opposite, Stoicism.

........

I find it interesting that two of my most dominant traits almost contradict one another. Almost. I've always been this odd mix of rational/logic-oriented and playful/imaginative. People that don't know me well almost always know of one of those sides to my personality or the other, but not necessarily both. It's almost always the rational side, as people will notice I'm smart or detail-oriented long before they ever see the side of me that far prefers playing, joking, and laughing to working and being serious about things. I love facts, learning, and reasoning but am completely uninterested in really applying those interests in a practical way that isn't also "fun".

The only time you see both traits at the same time is in my creative work. I remember teachers I had when I was a kid commenting on how unusual a combination it was. For instance, other kids I knew would write stories about the Care Bears that followed the actual imaginary characters through imaginary events taking place in their actual imaginary world. I'd write a story where I imagined my actual stuffed Care Bear toys being sentient and going through the experience of being laundered in the washing machine, spin cycle and all. I'd make what appeared to be elaborate fantasy paintings that had to have come straight out of my child's imagination without any rhyme or reason to them, but if asked, I'd be able to explain how each little inclusion was actually symbolic of some abstract concept. 

On a somewhat related note, I personally wish we lived in a world where society makes room for playfulness and rationality in equal measure. Too often, people want to separate an artist's creativity from the random nature that makes that creativity possible in the first place... or they want to separate a thinker's genius from the eccentricity that inspires them to think outside the box. It just doesn't work like that. It'a package deal. You want one, you have to take everything that comes along with it.

People Are Allowed

This rolled through my Facebook feed earlier. I posted it to my own page as well, but for some reason I never feel like people want to hear more than a couple of sentences as far as why I posted something these days. That's when I start to miss the days when blogging was the go-to way of communicating with others online. Not that I truly mind, of course. Keeping a blog mostly for myself (and the few people interested in reading something longer from me) is therapeutic in its own way.

The fact of the matter is if there is one lesson it's taken me most of my 40 years to really learn, it's the one covered by this graphic. My entire life people have tried to make me feel like I'm some horrible wreck of a person just for ending past relationships and friendships or for putting distance between myself and family members I consider to be toxic. Not because I was abusive or cruel while we were still part of each other's lives -- just for calling it quits and walking away.

Those people failed to understand that I didn't make those decisions in a vacuum. I don't go from wanting to know someone to not wanting to know them overnight or without cause. Those people don't apparently remember me trying to tell them when something was hurtful right before they dismissed my feelings by ordering me not to feel that way or telling me I was too sensitive and "needed to work on that". They don't remember the times I shared an interest, a dream, or a fear with them only to have them mock it and make me regret even trying. They don't remember the constant stream of suggestions, demands, comparisons, and little criticisms they lobbed my way over the years either -- all the little things that never let me forget I wasn't good enough.

On Tall Tales

Prompt: "What do you think of people who tell tall tales that are meant to entertain but not deceive?"

It depends on what's meant by "tall tale". Are you legit telling me an actual made-up story and presenting it as a work of fiction or are you exaggerating something from your life that I'm expected to accept as fact even if there's no earthly way it could possibly be true? I'm going to assume for all intents and purposes that it's the latter.

People that tell tall tales (a la Edward Bloom in Big Fish) honestly really irk me. I grew up around pathological liars that you couldn't trust to tell you the truth about anything. Sometimes the lies were malicious, but other times it was just about making something sound better or more exciting than it really was. My brother in particular really made a habit of this and would often lie just for the sake of lying. You took him at his word at your own peril because there would always be facts left out and other facts embellished at the very least. Every so often a story he told you would be a lie from beginning to end.

On Stories, Fact, and Fiction

Prompt: "What are your favorite types of stories?"

I've been reading and writing so long, that I legitimately can't remember a time in my life when I didn't do those things. It only stands to reason that I've fallen in love with all kinds of stories over the years -- everything from fairy tales and epic adventures to high-brow literary fiction. However, I think the stories I like most these days are the ones that are anchored in reality to at least some extent.

It doesn't have to be a straight up non-fiction story or anything, but it's nice if it's at least inspired by events, people, places, or ideas from the author's actual life. I like knowing that that person is sharing little bits of their world with their readers. A given story just doesn't really feel "complete" to me without that.

That's been the case for me since I was a kid. Even when I reached for my fairy tale books, the experience of enjoying them was only partly about being entertained by the story itself. My favorite part of the process was actually learning the origins of those tales and the meanings behind them. I absolutely loved annotated versions of different books for that reason. I know it seems weird to imagine a 10-year-old being interested in the cultural context of Hansel and Gretel or in being able to identify the political satire in Alice in Wonderland, but that's the kind of child I was. I liked reading stories and then picking them apart afterward so I could fully understand what I'd just read.

On the Merry-Go-Round of the Past

Normally, I don't truly understand why other people seem to think I'm so young for my age. I almost always just blame it on my youthful looks and the fact that I don't really choose clothing, hairstyles, or make-up that would be considered age appropriate. Then something will happen that shows me it's probably more than that. I'm realizing that I still act young and think young for someone that's 40 years old. I'm also realizing that it's not necessarily a bad thing.

For instance, I don't get nostalgic over dead technology the way a lot of people my age do. I don't think tapes and CDs are superior to digital music and streaming. I don't wistfully sigh and think back fondly on the days when people shared a landline and some dial-up Internet with the rest of their family instead of having their own cell phones and devices. Why would I? Today's technology is so much better, more accessible, and more convenient than the shit I grew up with.

Sure, at the time all of that seemed pretty cool, but it was the best, most innovative technology that was available at the time as well. Sure, I still like listening to a lot of the same bands I liked growing up, but I love that I can listen to perfect, pristine-quality versions of their albums on Spotify now instead of having to pop a plastic disc into some clunky old player. Honestly, if I were still single and dating someone my age? I would probably reconsider them if they were still making mix tapes and burning CDs. It's just a silly thing to do in a day and age when there are better, more efficient alternatives.

Apocalypse Orange

When there are forest fires in the area, it's not uncommon for the smoke to migrate into the surrounding cities, even those that aren't but so close by. Right now, there are fires in Big Sur. That's definitely close enough to have made our skies apocalypse orange for the past couple of days. That photo there is what the view outside our window is like right now. It's not edited or doctored in any way. Everything really does look like it's in sepia tone right now. The colors are all wrong. You can't smell anything but smoke.

I think it's giving me anxiety or something. The orange sky thing was in full effect when I woke up yesterday and wouldn't stop reminding me of Mad Max. (I wound up with an unexpected day off yesterday, as I was waiting for a client to get back to me with details on an assignment. We actually watched Mad Max: Fury Road on HBO.)

I didn't sleep well last night either. Lots of really weird dreams about the end of the world, messed up weather, and so forth -- definitely phobias of mine. I feel really off today as a result, as I do every so often for no real reason. I never know if feelings like that are actually coming from me or if I'm picking them up somehow from other people I know, either offline or online. I wish I had a better understanding of where my emotions actually come from, but I've gotten really used to drawing a blank by now.

On Diversity in the Media

Here's the thing. I actually don't like it when television shows and movies are "diverse", but it feels forced. I don't like it when black/gay/female/etc characters are just thrown into the mix as tokens just for the sake of being able to say "fuck yeah diversity". I very definitely feel like there's a wrong way to approach diversity and I see things being done the wrong way a lot.

But I do not understand people that actually go out of their way to complain about diversity as a concept when it comes to the media they consume. I also can't help but notice that the complainers are always people that have no earthly idea what it's like to grow up almost never seeing people that looked or acted like them when they went to the movies or turned on their television.

I know what that's like and it's really not fun. It really does give you the impression that you're an undesirable of one type or another. Or that there's something wrong with you. Or that society would really like it if you just disappeared or tried your best to hide/deny/erase anything about yourself that makes you different. The characters people rooted for in movies and on television were very, very rarely anything like me. When they were there at all, people like me were almost always the sidekicks, or the comic relief, or -- God forbid -- the villain.

Writing Lab: On Meeting New People

Prompt: "Do you like meeting new people, or do you prefer to hang out with people you already know?"

I'm more introverted even than most other introverts I know, so I'm generally not a fan of meeting new people. I have to have a very good reason to go out of my way, like actual loneliness because my existing relationships have ended or deteriorated for whatever reason. Otherwise, I'd far prefer continuing to develop deeper relationships with the people I already know.

I like not having to wear my "social face" around others. I like feeling like I don't have to watch my language or tiptoe around certain topics because they might offend whomever I'm talking to. I don't actually enjoy interacting with others for its own sake unless I can also be free, unedited, and unfiltered around them.

That said, the only time I even kind of like meeting new folks is when I'm doing it online. It seems to be more acceptable not to beat around the bush when it comes to telling other people whatever it is you want them to know about you. I haven't met a lot of people online that expected me to engage in small talk or tone down my real feelings about anything the way they might if we met in Meat World. They're usually in my vicinity because they saw me expressing something real about myself somewhere else anyway, so they already know what they're getting themselves into.

On Mixed Racial Identity and Blogging

Like many female bloggers, I write a lot about what it means to be a woman. But unlike most of the minority bloggers I know, I don't really talk much about race. I'm not completely sure why that is, but I'm sure there are a couple of reasons.

On the one hand, I just don't think about my ethnic background that often and if I'm not thinking about something, I'm not writing about it either. I'm clearly not white, but I'm also a biracial woman that doesn't fit the average non-black person's mental picture of what a black woman looks like or acts like. Because of this, I tend to go through my life without having to think much about my race, just like white people do.

I don't look so different from Seth that people stop and stare at us when we walk down the street or wonder how on earth we even wound up together. I more or less measure up to the going American standard of what female beauty is "supposed" to be -- long hair that flows, light skin, and refined, stereotypically feminine facial features. There are apparently even people out there that miss the fact that I'm black altogether, as they express complete surprise when I tell them or if they find out some other way, as when my ex-husband met my parents for the first time.

In a manner of speaking, I'm probably lucky because I get to sidestep a lot of the problems and discrimination that my darker friends have to deal with. On the other hand, not having to create my life around my ethnicity has meant that I haven't developed the same strong racial identity most of my black friends have. I think about being a woman every day. I think about being a writer every day. I think about being an introvert every day. I rarely to never think about being black. Only when something or someone calls my attention to it, which really isn't all that often.

Writing Lab: That Very First Blog

Prompt: "What was the first blog you read online?"

Weirdly enough, I still remember stumbling across someone else's blog for the first time. I didn't know it then, but that discovery would change my life, how I communicate, and how I relate to other people forever.

It happened sometime in the early 2000's -- maybe 2002 or 2003. My ex-husband and I had just gotten a computer and Internet access, the very first experience with such things for either of us. He mostly used it to email his mother and download pirated music, but I had other ideas. I was far more interested in using the Internet to learn new things and possibly to connect to new people that actually thought like me or shared my interests.

As is the case with many people that don't feel like they relate to anyone else, one of my strongest interests at the time was music. Tori Amos was my absolute favorite artist back then, but I knew almost no one in my offline life that had even heard of her. Naturally, it made sense to me to use the Internet to seek out other Tori fans that were as obsessed with her music as I was. That's how I found this wonderful fan site called A Dent in the Tori Amos Net Universe (or "The Dent" for short). At first, I just came to The Dent to keep up on Tori-related news. Eventually though, I felt compelled to start contributing to it as well. I started submitting reviews of some of the concerts I'd gone to -- my first ever experience with sharing any of my writing online.

Writing Lab: All the Answers

Prompt: "Do you think life would be boring if we had all the answers to our important questions?"

I don't know if boring is the word I want to use to describe what life would be like if I already had all the answers. I think life would be easier. Stress would be a thing of the past if I already knew the easiest, most effective way to earn a living, become financially independent, or win people's lasting respect. I can't truthfully say I wouldn't love to know what it's like not to feel like I'm constantly beating my head against the wall when it comes to those things.

On the other hand, a life that doesn't include opportunities to wonder, think, and discover hardly seems worth living. One of the only things that consistently makes me feel alive is the act of thinking. No, I don't like the tedium of solving everyday problems or dealing with practicalities, but I enjoy contemplating abstract concepts very much. I love wondering about God, and heaven, and hell. I love figuring out how things work and learning new skills all on my own. I love asking "what if" and exploring the possibilities I come up with through my writing.

On the Conundrum of Generosity

Something I've always hated about the phrase "giving back". It takes it for granted that something has been received in the first place. It's also something I hear from other people a lot when they approach me looking for favors or advice right after I politely decline their request: "Don't you want to give back?"

No, actually. That's what happens to a person when they've spent their entire life surrounded by people that were constantly trying to gauge just how little they themselves could get away with doing for others. They don't exactly come out of that experience with a generous spirit that's just bursting at the seams with love for their fellow man. They are probably pretty stingy with their resources and they are very choosy about who, if anyone, ever gets to see that gracious, giving side of their personality.

I'm much more passive and reactionary than people think I am, meaning I almost always treat others the way I feel they've treated me. That said, if you've known me a long time and you consider me to be stingy, or manipulative, or distant but can't seem to understand why, it's probably because I feel you've been that way with me. (Either that or I legitimately just don't like you and want you to go away, but that's a whole other topic for another day entirely.)

Writing Lab: Tell or Be Told

Prompt: "Do you like to observe things for yourself, or do you prefer people to tell you things?"

I prefer to observe things for myself. I don't trust other people's ability to be observant enough to paint an accurate picture of something that's happened. I really don't trust others not to embellish or twist facts to suit agendas of their own. Far too many people get creative when telling stories because they want to look like a hero or seem better than they actually are.

When I really want or need to know something specific, I probably don't have the time or the patience to sort through whatever was said and make guesses as to how much of it was bullshit. I want to know the facts so I can get right to work making decisions, writing articles, or whatever else I may be looking to do based on the situation. If I do my own homework and make my own observations, I never have to doubt the reality of the situation, as I trust myself implicitly.

Writing Lab: The Very Knowledgeable vs the Very Strong

Prompt: "Do you believe that knowledge or strength is power? Would you rather know a lot or be very strong?"

Both are forms of power, but given the choice, I'll always choose to be very knowledgeable over very strong. Part of that is just my nature. I'm a bookish person whose life revolves around knowledge. I not only earn my living by being a knowledgeable person, but most of my free time is spent adding to that knowledge as well.

There's a reason why I spend my free time with my nose buried in a book instead of working out at a gym though. Physical strength is great as far as the power it might bring you. You can defend yourself and the people you love when the chips are down if it ever comes to that. If you look as strong as you are, you might even be able to avoid having people mess with you in the first place.

Unfortunately though, I'm not the Rock or the Terminator. Even when I was in the best shape of my life, I didn't look the least little bit intimidating, so strength has never really benefited me very much. But I can and always could outwit and out-think even the smartest people I've dealt with in my life. Half the time, I'm so smooth as far as how I go about it that people don't even realize it just happened. I know what to say to get what I want and need out of other people. I can think my way out of almost any problem. A lot of the time, I'm knowledgeable enough to avoid problems altogether.

Writing Lab: On the News and Where It Comes From

Prompt: "Has the place you've gotten your news changed over the years? Where did you get it 10 years ago?"

As much as it pains me to say it, I didn't even care about the news until a couple of years ago. Intellectually speaking, I was interested in the past (history), but found the present (news) to be insufferably boring. The fact that it was happening right here and right now to the same everyday people I see on the streets made it ordinary to me and I wasn't interested in the ordinary as a young person. That said, I probably got what little news I was actually exposed to from friends, coworkers, and acquaintances. I never voluntarily read newspapers or watched the news on television though. Like I said, I really just didn't care.

The past few years have found me really interested in becoming a well-rounded, informed person for a change though. Digital media and inexpensive all-you-can-consume subscription services were making it so easy for me to explore new topics of interest, so I thought "why not". That's when I started reading news magazines like Time and Newsweek on a weekly basis. At first I really had to force myself to do it, but now I look forward to checking out one or both of those each weekend. There's just so much to be interested in -- medical/scientific advancements, social issues, archaeological discoveries. Politics and diplomatic relations are only a small part of the equation, although those topics can be interesting at times as well. 

Twenty-Five Apples

Every once in a while, my mind will sink its teeth into something kind of silly and refuse to let go of it. It's both frustrating and cool at the same time. Last night it was this lyric from one of the songs on Kate Pierson's solo album. I can't recall what track it is off the top of my head, but the lyric talks about being "split like an apple thrown against the wall".

Now... if an apple is thrown against a wall so hard that it splits, that's a pretty sad state of affairs for the apple. It's now a sad puddle of goo. It will never nourish anyone. It will never become pie or apple cider. It will never grow into a tree. Except the chord structure and melody pattern attached to that particular lyric is actually really bright and transcendent -- not sad at all. It makes it sound like the apple was somehow stronger than the wall even though it split from the impact.

So while I was falling asleep last night, my mind got its fangs into that little thing from that one song I'd listened to earlier in the day. And I kept dreaming about this apple and all the possible things that might have happened to it when it hit the wall. In one scenario, a bird of paradise made out of purple light came out of the apple and flew away. In another, the apple made the wall and the building attached to it crumble into dust because it refused to split at all. There must have been twenty-five different dreams and twenty-five different amazing things that happened to the apple.

I Am

I really find myself wondering sometimes where the people of substance are online these days, especially those of a creative nature. I know way too many writers, artists, filmmakers, and so forth that seem to care more about creating a facade to hide behind than they do about creating really good art. I don't get that. When I think of professions that lead to tons of admirers and money to wipe your ass with, I don't think of any of the arts. It really does feel like "I want to be an artist" is becoming code for "I have no marketable skills, nor do I want to work for a living, but I don't want to admit to either of those things". 

Whenever that realization occurs to me, I become aware of how rare it is to have accomplished the things that I have. Not only do I have real skills and real ideas, but I've actually found a way to make those things marketable. And I'm not even close to being done yet. There are so many places I can see myself taking my creativity in the future and I actually have a good idea of how to make successes of those endeavors as well. So many of these sham artists have no idea how to do the same. No wonder I have haters. 

The Disconnect

Earlier, a LiveJournal friend of mine posted a positively gorgeous photo of herself, a sample from a professional photo shoot she'd had done recently. Honestly, I was taken aback by how lovely she looked -- very refined features, wonderful skin, and the most gorgeous long violet hair.

Up until that point, I'm not sure I'd seen a picture of this particular person that really allowed me a clear look at her. Once I had, I immediately began to wonder why she doesn't post pictures all the time. She is stunning. Her looks are very close to the type of looks I've always wished I had. "If I looked like her, the entire Internet would be so fucking sick of my selfie spam by now," I thought.

Then I actually read the words she wrote. Among other things, she mentioned having a disconnect between the way she sees herself and the fact that she likes the way she looks in the picture. She mentioned having gained weight and being able to see it in her face and a couple of other things. I really didn't see any of that myself. I just saw a stunningly beautiful girl that is very blessed with what I consider to be an incredible dose of beauty. To me, she looked absolutely flawless.

I can relate though. More than I probably really care to admit. Truth be told, I don't usually think of myself as a beautiful woman. I'm well aware that others consider me to be not just pretty, but exceptionally attractive. I'm also aware that many people feel the same way about my looks that I felt about my friend's. However, I do not see that in myself.

Writing Lab: Full of Stories, Full of Stars

Head of a Young Woman - Jean-Baptiste Greuze

Prompt: "Do you have a lot of untold stories inside of you? How do you feel carrying them around?"

Well, any writer is full of stories to at least some extent and I'm certainly no exception. I don't get writer's block as far as ideas go. I'd even go so far as to say that I come up with at least a couple of viable new ideas a week. However, I'm not terribly disciplined about doing much with any of them. Some of that has to do with how much of my writing energy gets poured into things for my clients these days, but the rest of it is just sheer laziness and apathy.

That said, I do have a lot of untold stories living inside of me to one extent or another. How does it make me feel? Perpetually bloated and full, like a person feels when they overeat at Thanksgiving. On the one hand, there's a satisfaction to feeling that full, because when you're full you're the very furthest thing from empty. On the other, it can be incredibly uncomfortable at the same time. You know it's not normal or healthy to be overstuffed to that extent. I do talk about ideas and whatnot to some extent, which helps. However, verbal conversation and Facebook are really no substitutes for proper stories and poems written on the regular.

Writing Lab: On Legacies

Prompt: "A line from the play Hamilton asks: 'Who lives, who dies, who tells your story.' What do you want your legacy to be?"

This is a hard question for me. As I've touched on here before, I've never wanted to become much or accomplish anything in particular, so I can't really say I've ever truly been interested in leaving a legacy as most people would define the term. I'm 40 years old. I'm growing more tired and jaded by the day. I may never manage to create anything earth-shattering or change the world in any notable way. And to be totally honest, it's OK with me if I don't.

That said, I think what I'd like most is to know I might have inspired other people to approach life differently while I was still here. I am a firm believer in the notion that human beings are taught to swallow bullshit their entire lives from the moment they're born. They're told that there is this one right way to be a child of God, to be a women, to be a man. One right way to look and one list of right ways to earn a living or exist in this world. There's not. There are as many possibilities as far as who you can be and how you can choose to live as can be -- too many to ever count.

On the Passing of Prince and the Loss of Childhood Heroes

I was so sad to log on today and hear that Prince passed away. Not only was he only 57, but he wasn't really one of those celebrities that partied so damn hard you just knew it was a matter of time. Actually, although there hasn't been an official announcement as to the cause of death yet, it sounds like he spent the last few weeks ill with a very persistent case of the flu and just wound up collapsing suddenly at home. He probably should have been in the hospital if he was that sick, although who knows if that would have made a difference.

Like a lot of people, I'm astonished at how many legends we've lost recently. Seriously... legends. People like Prince and David Bowie are icons that seem to transcend their very humanity on so many levels. It seems surprising somehow when such people actually die eventually just like everyone else. It's even harder to swallow when they die for reasons like this. You want to think someone as superhuman as Prince could never be killed by something we've all experienced, like the flu, but there it is all the same.

I've always heard that one of the hardest things about entering middle age is that you start losing older family members -- people like your parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. No one warns you that it's also hard to start losing your childhood heroes -- the people you grew up in awe of. The people whose creations shaped who you eventually became and helped you get through your younger years in one piece. 

On Getting Organized for Spring and Contemplating Feminism

I don't know if it's because I sometimes get inspired to organize in the spring or what, but I finally got Google Calendar set up a few days ago. I'm not using Elance, or Upwork, or anything to deal with any of my main clients anymore. Unfortunately, that also means I no longer have a preexisting organization system that keeps me in check as far as deadlines. Instead of continuing to try to hold onto everything by memory, I thought I'd take the opportunity to actually figure out a proper system for keeping work stuff organized instead. You know... the way someone that isn't a child disguised as a 40-year-old would do. 

Now I see why respectable people do maintain day planners and appointment calendars. It's a hell of a lot easier to remember something's coming up when you have a visual representation of your life to look at than it is to just try to store it all up in your head someplace. I even created other calendars in addition to the main one I have for deadlines -- one each for deliveries, astrological events I want to remember, personal occasions, and a couple of other things. I even set up sharing on the ones that are actually relevant to Seth's life so that he can also take advantage. It's great. I feel so fucking together. Like I actually accomplished something useful for a change!

Writing Lab: In the Eyes of Readers

Prompt: "How do you think a reader would describe your blog?"

If sharing my journal-style writings with other people has taught me anything over the years, it's that I don't usually have an accurate picture in my head of how other people view what they read from me. I don't see my blogs as having a lot of potential appeal to anyone besides myself. When I'm not working, I spend most of my time reading, thinking, or hanging out with Seth watching TV or something. I don't get out a lot. I don't really travel or care to maintain much of a social life, so... like... 98% of what I post is pure navel gazing. I'm talking about myself. Or else I'm reacting to something that happened more than I'm recording it. It's hard for me to imagine that not being kind of a bore to an outsider.

Even so, I'm consistently told by people that do read my writing that they enjoy it. I've heard that I have an interesting voice and an unusual outlook in regards to a lot of things. People have told me they enjoy my humor, my candor, and the unapologetic way I choose to express myself these days. Those that don't like me or my writing have accused me of being a lot of things -- too cynical, too self-absorbed, too blunt, too much of an over-thinker. However, I've yet to have a reader tell me they find me boring, which is really my only worry.

Writing Lab: On Being a Diarist

Prompt: "Do you look at your blog as a way to tell your story? Do you consider yourself a general diarist?"

That's definitely how I look at my blog. I would also probably say that I think of myself as a diarist, especially these days. I've tried to branch out and embrace other types of writing to the same extent I've always embraced journaling and diary keeping over the years, but it never seems to hold my interest for long.

This has even been the case with my other blogs on Blogger. They started as attempts to build resources for other people's consumption or write more generally about topics I care about -- like food, or astrology, or spirituality, or freelancing. However, they ultimately wound up settling into alternate diaries -- places I can go to record my thoughts and experiences as they relate to those topics. I do occasionally write or include resource articles as well if I decide I'm in the mood, but those are few and far between.

Narcissistic as it might sound, I fascinate myself, so I'm my own favorite topic. I love using writing to explore my thoughts and feelings about different things. I love recording things that happen in my life. I love exploring my past and my relationships to other people, as well as to the rest of the world, through my writing. I enjoy the act of at least potentially sharing what I write with other people, but I write mostly for myself.

Writing Lab: On Writing About Others

Prompt: "Do you write about other people? Do you think it's fair game to write about others without asking permission if they're part of your story?"

I'm not sure if this is addressing my blogging or my fiction writing, but either way, the answer's exactly the same. I absolutely do write about other people. To be totally honest, I find it impossible not to.

I'm a big believer in the "write what you know" approach, so everything I write under my own power these days is incredibly personal whether it sounds that way or not. If I'm not writing directly about myself and the actual people I know and have crossed paths with, then I'm writing about characters that are strongly based on real people. Probably to enough of an extent that the people in question would easily recognize themselves if they were to ever read the material.

And yes, I absolutely believe it's fair game to write about other people. There's an Anne Lamott quote I really like that addresses this. Something to the tune of owning your stories and telling them no matter what, because people need to treat you better if they're worried about how you'd describe them in your writing. That really sums up how I feel in a nutshell. As for asking permission, why would I bother? The story of my life is 100% mine and anyone that's at all familiar with any of my writing already knows that I tell it and then some. I'm not going to write something just to smear someone's name or anything, but you can trust that whatever picture I do paint will probably be unflinchingly honest for better or worse.

Writing Lab: Good Old Black-and-White

Prompt: "Have you ever had another blogger write about you? How did you feel reading the post?"

It hasn't happened at all recently, as most of my social circle has long ago forsaken blogging for Facebook or Twitter, but yes. Looking back, I'm realizing that I've seen myself show up in other people's posts quite a lot over the years. However, the context varies, as does the tone.

I'm not even going to sit here and pretend I don't know why some people find me hard to stomach. I don't get up in people's faces or force them to listen to my critiques of who they are or what they're into. (If you approach me and ask though, it's another story.) I really do keep to myself for the most part, but people nevertheless can tell when I don't really return their interest in me or don't see them as being in the same league. I'm told it makes people feel dismissed, invisible, or otherwise unworthy of notice. Apparently that's much tougher to deal with than it would be if I were just... like... a hater. People can usually deal with being hated on, but they don't like being dismissed or ignored, so I've inadvertently made my enemies over the years.

Sometimes those enemies eventually decided they were going to let it all out in writing, usually someplace they know I'm likely to see it or eventually find out about it. They were too chickenshit to say what they wanted to say to my face and most never dared use my name, but it was nevertheless pretty obvious they were talking about me. I'm thinking of ex-friends mostly... and maybe a few acquaintances that wanted to be friends, but that I wasn't really interested in for whatever reason.

A Zebra in a Sea of Horses

Everyone knows that I'm sort of... unique. What everyone doesn't know is that it's not something I've ever actually wanted to be. No matter how hard I've ever tried to fit in at various points in my life, I've always stuck right out like a sore thumb. Sometimes that's a good thing, but most of the time, it's not. Or at least it isn't to me.

Part of that has to do with being mixed race. The rest of it has to do with being neuroatypical. Even at my best, I was never conventionally beautiful, nor have I ever had what you call a winning personality. I'm witty, smart, and have a good sense of humor, so I've always been able to attract people or attention if I really wanted to. But I've also always been painfully aware that I'm not what any man -- Seth probably included -- had in mind when he pictured his dream woman as a young man just getting started in life and deciding what he wants for the first time. Especially not physically speaking. That hurts sometimes.

I wonder all the time what it would be like to know you're actually what your partner always wanted and not just some aging, second-rate alternative that probably had to grow on them over time. I wonder what it's like to meet your partner's parents and have them instantly like you and see you as someone they'd actually like to have as part of their family. I wonder what it's like for your parents to ever have seen you as something other than a huge disappointment. I wonder what it's like for people not to have to "learn" to like you or accept you. I wonder what it's like to know that you've always been everyone's first choice. -- exactly what everyone always wanted and had in mind.

Writing Lab: On Wasted Energy

Prompt: "What does the phrase 'a waste of energy' mean to you?"

To me, a waste of energy is usually an activity or pursuit that consumes time, brainpower, and other intangible personal resources, but doesn't really have a point or yield useful results. I'm thinking of tasks like mindless busy work you might be given at a place of employment or things your parents gave you to do when you were a kid just to keep you out of their hair. They're wastes because that same energy could just as well be spent on something that feels worthwhile because it's actually fun, useful, or productive.

Sometimes I think of other scenarios as wastes of energy on a larger scale though. Examples from my life would include some of my past relationships. I used to have a bad habit of getting into relationships with people I wasn't all that into just so I wouldn't have to be single. In some of those cases, I stayed with the person for years despite being 100% aware that I didn't see any sort of a future with them. Even casual relationships consume a lot of energy though, so I look back on situations like that as having been absolute wastes. I could have been spending that energy on bettering my own life or on people that were better suited to me. I also think back on some of my old jobs.

When you combine all of those situations and look at them as a collective, they add up to entire years of my life flushed straight down the toilet because they yielded absolutely nothing of use. That time and energy is something I'll never get back. I wonder all the time how my life might be different or more stable if I'd actually spent those years on worthwhile people and pursuits instead. Not every life experience has to be earth-shattering or life-changing, but it would be nice if I could at least look back on some of those situations as having been fun for what they were at the time.

The Struggle

I deal with self loathing and generalized negativity about life as often as the next person, but it never actually takes the form of "I bet I wouldn't be good at ____". It's more like "will ____ turn out to be as unsatisfying as nearly everything else in life and do I even want to waste my time".

That's the interesting thing about having been considered gifted as a child. You get used to hearing how exceptional you are at everything, so even as an adult, it never occurs to you that you wouldn't be good at whatever you try. You just assume that you not only will be, but that you'll be better at it than everyone else. And you're even right a lot of the time.

Writing Lab: Vacations Are Freedom

Prompt: "Do vacations help you relax or stress you out?"

I'm one of those people that literally lives for vacations, so the idea of any vacation actually stressing me out is completely foreign to me. My answer's the same whether or not we're talking about a vacation that actually involves leaving town. Work stresses me out. Social obligation stresses me out. Having to live up to other people's expectations at all times stresses me out. Vacations are literally the permission I give myself to forget about all of those other things and just focus on what I'd like to do for a change. If stress even might factor into the equation, then you can bet it won't be part of my vacation.

Most of my vacations involve simply staying home and doing whatever it is I might have decided I'd like to do. I spend time with Seth. We cook and eat things we enjoy. We binge-watch shows we like on Netflix or Hulu. I catch up on my reading or my gaming. If I'm feeling productive, I might decide to blog a bit or mess around on social media. I'll spend a lot of time online just reading up on whatever topic I'm interested in at the time. In the past, I might have decided to sketch or draw. 

My Nipples Don't Need Your Help

So I had another "I totally feel 40" moment earlier. I woke up this morning to an Instagram message from some chick. She was apparently one of the many women you run into on social media these days that claim to be feminists fighting for social justice and all that. Her account was one of those "free the nipple" deals. She was actually messaging me to request a submission. You know, so I can do my part to fight for women's equality.

Why she approached me of all people, I don't know. I have a profile picture up on Instagram and I will very, very occasionally post a selfie or something. But none of the photos I post are the type of thing that should lead anyone to believe I wouldn't mind showing a bunch of perfect strangers my tits. I use Instagram primarily to post pictures of the foods Seth and I cook. All I can figure is that this person took one look at me, saw that I was "alternative" looking (unnatural hair color with black clothes), and mistook me for someone a lot younger or more progressive than I actually am. It sure wouldn't be the first time. Whatever the reasons, I was honestly kind of offended, but not for the reasons most people would probably think. 

The Death and Taxes of It All

I feel like I'm going though another one of my phases -- the ones that are becoming more and more frequent these days. I already voluntarily avoid offline friendships, but I'm swiftly approaching the point where I don't care to have many online ones to speak of either. The vast majority of the people I used to think of as friends just bother me now. They all seem so ignorant, and silly, and stunted. They're all stuck in a place I managed to break free from years ago at this point... and I've always been something of a late bloomer, so that's really saying something.

None of them show the slightest little bit of interest in growing or evolving either and something about that honestly disgusts me. I've always wanted to be better than I was. All that's ever changed was my definition of what "better" meant. Somewhere along the line, it stopped meaning "be someone my parents like and approve of" and started meaning "be someone I like and approve of". Even now, I still want to be so much better and so much more. And I want to be surrounded by people like myself -- thinkers, artists. People that are more focused on improving themselves and less concerned with how they stack up to others around them.

Writing Lab: On Energy and Its Sources

Prompt: "Where do you draw your energy from?"

I've never been what you'd call an energetic person. Even when I was a child, my brand of energy was a very quiet, subdued one, if such a thing can ever be said to exist. My mind would be going a mile a minute on any given day, but I was never much into being physically active. I've also always had a hard time mustering energy for doing things I don't feel personally invested in.

That part of who I am hasn't changed one little bit now that I'm an adult. I only feel what most people would call energetic when I'm legitimately on fire about something. Truth be told, I don't feel much enthusiasm when it comes to life in general. However, there are a few sources from which I seem to be able to pull energy if and when I need to.

Writing Lab: The Church of Passion

Prompt: "Do you think passion is enough to reach your goals or can passion only take a person so far?"

Saying that I used to believe passion was "enough" when it comes to meeting one's goals is the understatement of the century. At one point, I firmly believed that passion was quite literally the only thing that matters. I most certainly saw it as what separated the real artists from the people that only wished they were artists. That belief was as deep-seated as a religion and as is typical of me, I would not be told that my thinking was flawed. Even by those that had been there and knew first hand what it actually takes to succeed in any kind of creative art field.

There's a long buried, very idealistic part of me that wishes I could say I still attend the Church of Passion and worship at the altars. However, the passage of time combined with hard experience has taught me to do otherwise. I still believe passion is very important, especially when you're in the arts. But it's not enough by itself if you're serious about meeting your goals. Passion is like gasoline. It might be the fuel that makes it possible for the car to keep moving forward, but you still need the fucking car. You need the wheels, and the seats, and the steering wheel, and the engine just as desperately as you need the gasoline if you actually want to get anywhere.

Writing Lab: Head Versus Heart

Prompt: "What do you think is more important for getting things done: passion or steadfastness?" 

For me personally, it all depends on what I'm trying to accomplish. I draw upon completely different personal resources when I'm pursuing something practical than I do when I'm expressing myself or working toward a personal goal.

When it comes to the personal stuff, it's all about passion. Passion is the only thing in those cases that really keeps me going. I have to feel excited about what I'm doing in my heart. I have to be so into it that I find it hard to go to sleep at night because my brain can't stop chewing on ideas and looking forward to the next step.

I'm a creative person through and through, so the whole "make yourself work on your art" approach doesn't really do it for me. When I'm not in the zone as far as something creative I'm working on, the quality of the work just isn't there. Literally every single time I've generated something truly artful and inspired, it came from passion and passion alone. I don't care if we're talking about a painting I did, a blog post I wrote, or an especially inspired dinner menu I came up with.

On Relationships and Reflection

I feel like I've been conversing with a lot of friends about the topic of relationships lately. I've been in my own relationship for nearly 11 years at this point, so I tend to forget how tough things can be when you're still in the process of looking for your person. In particular, I forget how bad a relationship with the wrong person can make you start to feel about yourself.

I have an acquaintance I follow via what's left of my LiveJournal friends list and the situation she's in reminds me so much of how things were with Shawn. Shawn was probably one of the first men I felt really, truly passionately about in my life. He also turned out to be one of the most horrible, abusive human beings I've met to date. When I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that after my relationship with him, I wasn't ever the same open, giving, trusting person I used to be again, even after many years. That's probably for the best considering how many selfish individuals I tend to attract into my life, but still. It's hard not to regret the loss of a part of you that was innocent, and generous, and trusting.

Lots of people can make you feel self-conscious about your hobbies, your goals, or your personal habits. Shawn somehow made me feel self-conscious about who I was on a core level. He hated that I was introverted and thought quality was more important than quantity when it came to friends. He hated that I read and liked to learn. He hated that I wasn't more driven and success-oriented. He hated that I was still trying to figure out what I believed spiritually and socially even though I was only 21 or 22 at the time. He really hated that I was a sensitive person that felt things deeply. Being steeped in that environment for even one of my most impressionable years of my life changed me forever.

Writing Lab: Do What You Love and Love What You Do

Prompt: "Is your career your passion? Are you in love with your job or your field of work?"

I think that I'm somewhere in between on this one, as I have mixed feelings about working as a freelance copywriter and ghostwriter. On the one hand, I would definitely say that writing, information, and language are things that I'm absolutely in love with and have been since I was a little girl. I also feel comfortable saying that if God really did have something specific in mind as far as what he wanted me to do with my life when he made me, it probably has a lot to do with being a writer. I have always been a writer in one capacity or another and I know that I will continue to be a writer until the day I die. It's too big a part of who I am for me to do anything else.

On the other hand though, I'm not a very service-oriented person. I have some great clients and I'm incredibly grateful to be able to earn my entire living working for myself out of my home, but I can't honestly say that I'm passionate about the type of writing people are actually willing to pay me to do. A good 90% of it is incredibly dry and boring -- mostly informative content meant for company blogs, brochures, and so forth. I'm very good at what I do, so I make decent money and have no problem finding steady work, but I don't really take a lot of personal joy in the actual work itself. 

Writing Lab: On Passion, Motivation, and Purpose

Prompt: "How do you find a new passion?"

Finding activities, pastimes, and even people that I'm actually what I'd call passionate about has never really been something that's come easily to me. This has especially been the case when it comes to anything long-term or potentially permanent. I was the type of kid that never really had a real answer for the adults in my life when they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I always had a hard time connecting with other people as well.

That said, I'm not so sure that I actively find passions so much as they find me. Most of the things I'm voraciously interested in I embraced in the first place because they made me feel calm and at peace, as opposed to because they lit some sort of fire inside of me. They were ways for me to form a buffer between myself and the rest of this world that made me feel so rejected early on in my life. The feelings of passion toward those beliefs and pursuits came later on after I'd developed the associated skills almost by accident thanks to repetition over the years.

On Faces

The interesting thing about faces is that they always tell you the truth of a given person, especially as that person ages. When a person smiles or laughs a lot, you can see it in the way their face has wrinkled, settled, or changed over the years. The same thing happens when a person does nothing but pout, and frown, and complain. The effect is most obvious in older people, but you can see it in young people as well.

I've known a lot of people that claim to be super positive, happy beings but aren't really that way in practice. If you didn't know any better from actually observing the realities of the person's life, you could look at the permanent pout burned into their face and see the truth. Same thing goes for people that may appear sour and depressive on the surface, but have faces that give away the fact that they actually laugh and smile a lot.

I'm realizing that I might be the second sort. Outwardly, I complain and bitch a lot. I would even say I see and describe myself as a brooding, pensive person for the most part. But when I step back and really admit how much I laugh and how often I smile -- how often I ultimately wind up seeing the best in something -- I realize that isn't actually accurate. And my face gives me away. I have the face of a happy, pleasant, inquisitive person even if I don't always feel like one.

Writing Lab: Changing, Evolving, Regrouping

Prompt: "Some people find it difficult to rebalance their lives after making a big shift. Do you welcome change or struggle with it?"

I don't think that anyone really likes change. My own personal feelings about it honestly depend on what kind of change we're talking about. Obviously, I don't like being forced out of a situation that was comfortable or beneficial for me, but if we're talking about a situation that had been stagnant or unpleasant for a long time, then I welcome change with open arms. I'm not one of those people that prefers the devil I know. If something sucks, I will always be willing to take a chance in the hopes that it could get better. 

I've even been that way when it comes to major life changes. For instance, I was slowly suffocating to death in my failed marriage years ago, so I was happy to reach a place where I felt like I could ask for a divorce, move out, and eventually start a relationship with someone new (not necessarily in that order, but that's a story for another day). Facing a change as monumental as divorce was super scary. It obviously would have been much easier to just stay where I was and continue with the person I was already with, but the possibility of one day being in a relationship that would be everything I wanted and needed it to be instead was motivation enough to see things through. I figured that even if things didn't go so well, I'd at least be able to say I tried instead of wondering "what if" and continuing to settle for a situation that made me unhappy.

Writing Lab: On Relationships and Technology

Prompt: "How has technology enhanced or detracted from your relationships?"

I've never been a member of the camp that thinks technology is nothing but negative when it comes to human relationships. All technology does is give people more options. What is done with those options depends entirely on the person. Some people do use it to tune out and disengage from the world around them. However, there are plenty of others that take advantage of the opportunity to be more connected, as opposed to less. I consider myself to be the latter.

I've always been a loner, as well as extremely introverted. While I have always enjoyed having at least a few close personal relationships with other people, I have never enjoyed what has to happen in order to obtain those relationships. I hate being in the physical presence of people I don't know and I loathe making small talk, attending social events, and pretty much everything else that people used to have to do if they wanted to make friends or find people to date. 

Thoughts on the Passing of David Bowie

Beautiful artwork from the Rolling Stone review of Blackstar

I'm really not the type of person that takes celebrity deaths super hard. Generally speaking, I am comfortable with the idea of death and loss, as I don't necessarily see dying as a horrible thing. It's just another type of very long good-bye. Sad, yes. But unless it was a gruesome, tragic, or grossly premature death, I see it as the most natural thing -- as natural and normal as birth.

Even so, the news of David Bowie's death hit me very hard. I've always known that it would, but I still don't think I was very well prepared for the reality of it. He'd just had a birthday two days prior. We celebrated it by watching the Five Years documentary and his newest music video for "Lazarus". I even remember verbally hoping that he'd be around for another 20 years, because his drive and creativity didn't appear to have diminished at all. Then I heard all about it. That he'd secretly been battling cancer for 18 months and knew he'd be leaving all of us very soon.

Get Off My Lawn, Kids

I must be getting old. Like... seriously, I've officially reached the point where the way "kids today" go about existing on Planet Earth baffles me as badly as I'm sure my own lifestyle and value system baffled my parents or grandparents. 

I think the weirdest thing to me is the going attitude toward relationships today. It honestly seems as if everyone under the age of 50 considers an open relationship to be the way to go. Like it's some kind of punishment to be expected to actually be faithful to your mate. I've even heard people saying that they think it's abusive and selfish not to be OK with it if your partner wants to sleep with other people. 

Now... I've been the last thing from perfect in some of my past relationships. I've cheated on people before. I'm even relatively open about the fact that my relationship with Seth started while I was still married to Greg. However, I never actually saw that behavior as something that should be socially acceptable or that my exes should have freely allowed me to do. Ultimately, I wanted to be with someone that was not only 100% faithful to me, but that kept me happy enough for me to want to be the same. I fought for it and searched for it until I found it and it's amazing to know that I have another person that belongs to just me and that I belong to in return. I honestly feel bad for anyone that's willing to settle for anything short of that. That isn't a relationship at all as far as I'm concerned.

Writing Lab: On Work Life Balance

Prompt: "Do you think you have a decent work/life balance?"

BlogHer's Writing Lab was so helpful to me last month that I think I'll continue responding to prompts now and then as we make our way into 2016. I may even start writing posts ahead of time and scheduling them to auto-post at later dates the way I used to. When I get in the mood to blog, I often feel like writing more than one post, but I don't always feel like updating more than one of my individual sites at a time. 

On that note, I can definitely see I'll have plenty to say about this month's theme -- balance. The tradition one kind of covered foreign territory for me, but I feel like my entire life has been about learning to understand balance and set appropriate boundaries, both for myself and for other people. This has especially been the case when it comes to my professional life.

I am about the furthest thing there is from a workaholic and I've always been that way. I very definitely believe in working to live, not living to work. When I'm working too much, I'm irritable and upset all the time. If I'm too stressed or too overworked for too long, I can also get incredibly sick -- mentally and emotionally, as well as physically. That said, achieving and maintaining a healthy work/life balance is of the utmost importance to me. It's also been easier said than done for most of my life.