What's so special about Santa Barbara?

This post is part of the #OpenBook Blog Hop where readers get the chance to learn a little more about authors. This week's theme is what is special about where you live. Enjoy!

A Santa Barbara sunset #nofilter

I live in a magical place. Mythical. Wondrous. Exceptional. These are all words that describe Santa Barbara County (and it is why I reference it in the Khloe Alwell series). I couldn't pick just one thing that makes Santa Barbara County unique or special, so I made a list:

1. Santa Barbara is one place in the world where the coastline runs from east to west. The mountains are to the north, while the ocean is to the south. This means both sunsets and sunrises are over water.
2. You know you're in Santa Barbara because of the flowers. Even amid the worst drought ever, flowers continue to blossom. Not just Yucca or mustard, but ice plant, trumpet flowers, jasmine, poppies, and bougainvillea are common sights.
3. Celebrities are common citizens. As in, everyone who lives in SB County has a "celebrity story." Maybe Jeff Bridges served you soup at a charity event, or you got a shot poured by Michael Jordan on State Street. Maybe Kenny Loggins sang the national anthem at your kid's little league game.
4. To be perfectly politically incorrect and blunt, an SB 10 is like a 20 on everyone else's scale. Hanging out with an SB 7 is like hanging out with a Phoenix 10+. As a rule the scenery is, ahem, spectacular.
5. I can walk to several wine-tasting rooms from my house. And they are all drinkable, with several that are exceptional. There are hundreds of wine-tasting rooms in SB County. If you like old-world high-tannin style, you can get that. If you like new-world fruit-forward, that is here in abundance. And just like they say in Sideways, the pinots are, well, get some pinot!
6. Cowboys, hippies, and Hollywood types all live in peace here, and often attend the same events. Somehow. Miraculously.
7. Produce here is amazing. Despite the drought. Organic fruit and veggies fresh from the farm down the road are available at different farmers' markets throughout the county. My personal favs are all the berries, white peaches, and avocados.
8. Even though pretty much everything here is more expensive (it is one of the top real estate markets in the country), you can still get delicious $1.00 tacos every Tuesday at most neighborhood Mexican restaurants.
9. The courthouse is worth sitting in with a latte. Seriously. It is beautiful, complete with sunken gardens, Spanish tiles, and spectacular murals.
10. The mission is gorgeous, no matter how you feel about the Catholic church - you have to give it to them. They know decor. Santa Barbara's is called the "Queen of the Missions" for a reason.

Have you had a Santa Barbara experience? Something you would add to the list? Leave a comment below!

Also, if you want a good beach read involving romance and motorcycles (of course!) check out P.J. Fiala's book Dog Days of Summer!
  

THRIVE: 5 Sites for Strength & Light

Strength & light

Sometimes, even those of us who have done some serious self-work need a little more inspiration to get over the rough stuff.

This is why I wrote THRIVE: HOW I BECAME A SUPERHERO in the first place - I wanted others to know it was possible to transform suffering, in multiple types of situations. And as I've been talking up the book, so many different inspiring people and resources came into my life. So I wanted to share some of that with you. Here are five sites that can give your life a little more strength and light, no matter where you are in your journey:

• Defying Shadows' series #WeAllHaveAStory - I discovered this through my fellow blogger Amy. This is an AMAZING undertaking with guest posts from many people, all sharing their different inspiring stories. It is definitely worth a read for inspiration and guidance on how to transform into an everyday superhero.
• Some Talk of You and Me posts in the health and wellness category are of particular interest to those of us wanting to THRIVE. There are some great personal essays that show different journeys of self-acceptance, persistence, and resilience in the face of life obstacles.
• The Manifest-Station is a personal favorite. This is an online zine that is full of powerful, raw, empowering personal essays by women. Some posts are hard to read, but I always find myself renewed after I read something on this site. It is a spiritual experience and inspires a sense of solidarity between readers and contributors.
• The Honeyed Quill is a similar site to mine in that it mixes things like writing advice and experience, with resilience and healing work (such as contained in THRIVE). In fact, Shawna is working on a trauma writing workshop, which I think will be a great resource for people committed to the hard work of healing.
• I have to give a shout-out to Amy at Allspice and Acrylics, because honestly, she is really amazing. This woman has an incredible will and inspiring story. Every time I read her words or interact with her, I feel her bubbling over with life and passion. I think it comes through in everything she does (I'm sure you'll agree when you check out her blog!).

Do you have other sites that give strength and light to your life? Something that helped you thrive? Leave a comment below!

If you like what you read, be sure to visit my author website and donate or become a patron. Your support makes my writing possible!

Help Me: Alexis and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Weekend

What I can't lose

It started on Friday. Christian woke up with hives and swelling everywhere. His hands were swollen. His ankles were swollen. His eyes were practically shut. I called urgent care. They wanted to know about his breathing.

"It's fine."
"Okay, well then come in here."

We went, and through the course of check in, I find out our insurance has lapsed through one thing or another (auto-debit never went through...they never contacted us...whatever the case). Then it becomes clear, despite Christian's job (or because of it?), we can't actually afford our insurance premiums. This, thanks to our collected loans, and other responsibilities (which are small compared to most households, but that's all we can manage).

I have a melt down in the waiting room.

It ends up being okay. Only just. Christian takes meds. The swelling goes down more and more. The hives abate, for the most part.

I feel like something needs to change, but I can't seem to get any interviews for jobs I do apply for, that would make childcare possible. I can't sleep well, ransacking my mind for ways that I might actually be able to support us - paths that we could pursue that would actually make a difference for our family.

Fast forward to Sunday.

My son sticks a piece of a toy in his mouth and it gets stuck. It's awkward. It's hard to remove. He's freaking out. He's coughing. His face is turning purple. My mommy sense kicks in and I reach into his mouth and yank it out myself. He is shocked. He is horrified. He cries. He wants to nurse. There is no good place. My shirt is not really the best kind for this sort of thing. We're in the middle of the restaurant, completely exposed. Christian takes him for a walk. He comes back. He wants to stay cradled in my lap. He eats half a sweet potato fry.

He cries. He grabs at me, clearly wanting to nurse. I don't finish my lunch. Christian gets everything except our child, who I am carrying in my arms, across a huge parking lot. He's over 25 pounds, wriggling, kicking, crying, and all the while grabbing at my chest to nurse. I am just trying to keep him in the middle of my body so I don't throw my alignment off worse than it is.

We get to the car. It is hot. It is small. We cram into the back seat and miraculously he's able to latch. He gets distracted and starts playing with things. We relatch. He gets distracted. We relatch. I'm  sweaty and cranky and still in shock from lunch. He gets distracted again, and I make an executive decision and put him into his car seat.

Christian declares he can't drive because of his meds. Fine. I get in the driver's seat. I'm not totally aware of how I'm still upset, but I do what I have to do. This is what I do everyday. I make it work. I check everything, I back up. The car directly behind me is backing up too. I stop. She keeps backing up, but there is no way she can move her car enough. I honk my horn. She bumps me.

I put the car in neutral and the brake on. I get out of the car and look at our bumper. Our car is over 10 years old. Hers is too. There are no dents. There are no scrapes. I see no marks on her car whatsoever, though ours has some old ones from something I can't recall.

"It was just one of those things. I looked left and you looked right," the woman says. I look at the cars again and nod. I'm upset, but no harm no foul.

There's a loud honk from behind me. I look over and there is a car. i stare the driver down. She motions as though she wants to get through - between the two cars who just had an accident. She doesn't smile at me. She doesn't wave or anything. I get into my car and this driver has the gall to drive right between our cars, before either one of us has time to move out of the way. I had visions of chasing her down, of beating her window, of taking my teenage carkeys along her freshly washed California Prius and giving her a nice cursive message to immortalize the occasion.

"Thanks you fucking bitch!" These are the words I thought because she didn't know everything I'd been through this weekend. She didn't realize I had visions of losing not only my husband and best friend, but also the fragile financial security I have. She didn't realize that I had visions of losing my son to a piece of irregularly shaped plastic just moments before. She didn't realize that I had just carried this upset, frightened little boy, wriggling, and crying, at over 25 pounds, the distance of several city blocks. She didn't realize that I had just crammed into my back seat, so that same frightened little boy, could feel an ounce of comfort before being strapped down so he could be transported safely away. She didn't realize all those things, but she did see my car bumper get tapped.

I don't know what that Prius driver had going on in her own life, but I think she could have managed a few seconds wait time to allow a young mother a little less stress to an already stressful event.

So when I did finally get my car going, and make my way out of the parking lot and on to surface street, it was amidst utterly raw weeping. Christian offered to take the wheel, but I refused. I refused in part because I did not want to move from that spot. I did not want to get out of the car. I could not take my hands from the wheel, so instead, I wept. I sobbed until my throat hurt - until the sound was impossible, until it refused to claw from my throat. The tears continued to flow from my swollen eyes. I would sniff. I would take a few gasping breaths, and this was enough to allow that wracking sound from my throat again.

I cried so hard, so long, I started to cough. I started to choke. I calmed enough to breathe. I wept some more. I wept the entire drive to my in-laws' house.

"If anyone makes any kind of comment to me, I cannot be held responsible for what I will say back. I cannot!" I said as I turned down their street. Christian nodded.

"Okay. I understand. Just go straight to the guest room. It's fine."

I parked the car. I wiped salt from my cheeks - just salt tracks because of the drought. I got out, not looking back, not thinking. I went straight to the guest room where our son takes his nap. Christian laid him down beside me, whimpering and half asleep from the car ride.

As I lay there, nursing my sleepy toddler, I breathed deeply, my limbs trembling.

I can't handle anything else. I can't. I need a break - I need to catch a break. I don't have anything left. No patience. No resources. No stamina. I am running on empty. I am bare. I am raw. I don't know what I will do if something else happens. I don't know what else I can do besides what I am doing.

So I write this, raising my hands up, empty and asking...help me.

We Don't Know What We're Doing

Can we all admit we have no idea what we're doing?

I read a ton of articles about pretty much every kind of topic in a day. I read about writing, of course, but mostly I read about everything else.

I read about politicians who play out their boyhood (because they're primarily male) wet dreams in the world stage because they can, not caring who they hurt. I read about non profits trudging on, making a difference in kids' lives while chaos swirls around them. I read about the sordid lives of celebrities. I read about climate change being proven over and over again across the world. I read about the latest style trends. I read about scientific theories and discoveries and arguments over all manner of things. I read about alcohol consumption. I read about art movements and documentary films showcasing all kinds of things from the very disturbing to the utterly mundane.

I've been doing this for several weeks straight, courtesy of the ease of access to such articles through Facebook.

I've even noticed how the viral videos spread - who are early adopters and complete social media addicts while others are slow to find these things (or maybe this is a result of having certain types of friends?).

And my conclusion to all this observation?

We humans have no frickin' clue what we're doing. We're just groping around in the dark.

At first I thought it was just in publishing. I thought my own stumbling path was an isolated incident. I thought my lack of know-how with utilizing social media, my lack of resources to outsource things like editing and artwork was holding me back. I thought if I digested enough material I could figure out something and somehow cobble together the great "Alexis Solution," but I am still searching (Note: I am still holding out hope and when I do discover it, I will absolutely put it into an information product for fun and profit!).

Now I realize it isn't about publishing, but about being human. We grab on to whatever bit of truth or limited fact supports our thoughts and hold on with everything we've got. Sometimes we use correct logic. Sometimes not. Sometimes we get hyper emotional one direction or another. Occasionally this is to our detriment. Other times this makes the world a better place. Always, we stumble forward, trying to make sense of the world around us, about other people, and finally, ourselves.

This lends some truth to the idea, the very ancient idea, that we are each an expression of the Universe housed in our limited bodies. This little piece of the greater whole, reaching out, attempting to experience itself through whatever natural laws will allow. It is play. It is horror. It is glory. It is everything and nothing.

That is the nature of the universe.

Somewhere a Hindu is reading this and thinking, welcome to Brahman and Atman. Somewhere a physicist is reading this and thinking, yes. The consciousness of everyone, dumped back into that great mystery of space.

Maybe they're sitting next to one another. They look up, smile, and shake hands. I imagine the conversation starts something like this:

"Hello, fellow traveler. Tell me about your groping, stumbling, adventure through the dark."

Ignoring the News

Sunflowers to brighten the day...

I seriously need to stop reading the news. Just completely. I need a news detox. I need fluffy cats, fuzzy bunnies, and baby videos. Lots of silly baby videos. And Saturday Night Live. Some Tina Fey.

Part of the reason is I get so pissed off when I read it. Part of it is I get so depressed. I lose faith in humanity and the world generally. I just get this awful aching feeling in my gut and that small voice in my head says,

"See. We are going to Hell in a hand basket. Soda and peanuts for a charge..."

I wonder if the world will be okay for my son. What will happen to him? I wonder if I will continue to see the blue sky and green grass, or if we are doomed to super winters in some places and legendary droughts in others...forever. For the rest of my life. For the rest of his.

I wonder why leaders think it is a good idea to go to war when we aren't taking care of our recent vets, let alone civilians at home.

I wonder why people intentionally want to hurt others while couching it in terms of "personal choice" or "maintaining national identity."

Looking at pictures of new babies on my social media feed and I think, what do they have to look forward to? Is it enough to be fed, be loved, and have a place to sleep? Is that enough? Because it feels like nothing else is certain.

Despite these feelings of desperation and depression, I cling to my one true solace - my one true love - my words. Precious, perfect, wonderful words. At least I write the light as well as the dark. That is some solace. And maybe someone reading it will be impacted in a positive way. I can't know. I can only hope. But the hope is what keeps me going.

My most consuming project is not Khloe, though I love that series and gives me hope. No. My most consuming project is dark, difficult, and real. It really happened. That is what makes it so painful, so awful. And I relive it as I write. I relive every second. Anyone who has experienced what I have knows this. When you write, when you talk, it is being back there. And I don't do it because I hate myself, or I want to beat myself up. I relive every second in hopes the lessons I learned, my experiences, were not a simple personal thing, but something that others can grab on to. I want someone else to read about me and know, in her heart of hearts, "I am more than this," and "I am not alone."

We are never alone. I hold on to this thought every day.

There is my husband, who can make me laugh at the drop of a hat. He has this magical ability to crack my mother into hysterics, which makes everyone laugh, because its such a strange full body thing, she gives herself over to the experience so completely. It is such a joy to see someone else enjoying life. It is infectious and I can't help but crack into hysterics along with her.

I look at my son, who both relieves and creates stress. He relieves it because he is full of smiles and laughs, and play. He is full of wonder and life and love and I can't get enough of it. He is a source of stress, not because of the tantrums and the buttons he pushes. He is a source of stress because I know the evil in the world, and I wish he will never experience it...but he will. We all do at some point. We all know evil. There is no avoiding it. And that stresses me the hell out, because I know, even if I do everything right, I cannot protect him from the world.

So I need to avoid the news. I need to forget about Brian Williams and other talking head lies. I need to avoid the fact that police and civilians alike shoot and kill each other over the most mundane and preposterous awful things. I need to forget that women still fight for a voice, and alternative genders struggle to have even the space straight women have. I need to forget that war rages, and violence stains hands and dirt. I need to ignore the fact that we may have killed our species through some Icarus type hubris.

So please, send me your best cat videos. Send me your fuzzy bunny memes and your witty sketch and improv comedy. Recommend a good guided meditation and a fantastic quantum physics article about how small and pointless this human experience is in the vastness of space. I need a break.

Some Things Are Just Wrong

Let's get something straight:

The world is messy. Context is important...AND sometimes things are EITHER right OR wrong.

Yes. You heard it here from a progressive educated feminist published blogging mother...some people are wrong. Some ideas are wrong. Some choices are wrong.

There. I said it.

And...sometimes people should be judged for wrong. Really. They should. This wishy washy everything is okay to do in a certain context is complete bullshit. No. Not true. And sometimes people get hurt by this truth. Sometimes they read into things and make things personal...and maybe they are. Or maybe not.

It is, for example, never okay to rape. Never. Judged.
It is never okay to murder. Never. Judged.
It is never okay to essentialize a person to a single physical trait. Judged.
It is never okay to take advantage of someone less powerful than you. Judged.
It is never okay to make a decision based on your own needs or wants that will negatively impact hundreds, thousands, or millions of people. Judged.

And some people may hate this truth. They may feel terribly guilty for this. That feeling is a choice, just like the action that brought them to that feeling was a choice. And they need to own that choice.

So I tell you: Clean house. Clean your hearts and minds. Be honest with yourself and others. Everyone will be a whole lot happier for it ...even if it means we all get a little judgment.

The key here is to take that and use it. Take that knowledge of right and wrong and become a better person. We all have room for improvement. Admitting it is the first step.

Shake It Off? Courtesy on the Internet

I started writing a different post...but then someone mentioned something that got me thinking.

Just because this is the internet and you do not have to face a person does not give you the right to be harsh. It actually doesn't. I don't care who your comment or post is directed towards - it is still directed to a person.

It does not matter how famous or not the person is. It does not matter how awful the person is. It does not matter if you disagree with them on a fundamental level.

Even if you are prepubescent, a certain level of decorum is essential. Courtesy is a part of what makes humans human.

You may be thinking to yourself that you are courteous. You are sensitive to other people, you think. But your language choice must be perfect. You cannot be flippant about word choice. You cannot afford to use harsh words or sarcastic phrases. Once you do, your words become cruel.

I know it is easy to disregard people behind words on the internet. I know it is easy to disregard people when they become famous - it is easy to think of them as objects. I know it is easy to think your words have no effect - that they do nothing and fall on deaf or uncaring ears.

As a courteous person, pretend they don't. Don't assume all people are like Taylor Swift. Everyone doesn't just shake it off.

The Most Powerful Force

Love.

This is the thing that holds us together and sets us apart. This is the thing that makes us scale mountains and cross oceans.

Love.

More powerful than greed or apathy or fear - love can turn an enemy to a friend. Love can turn an object into a real human being. Love is the most powerful force - more powerful than gravity. It is the ultimate variable - more important than time.

It is the ultimate choice - transcending Schrodinger's cat, particles and rays, life and death.

Love.

And what comes from this ultimate power? This force before all forces? When we use this, when we allow this force to direct our hearts and minds, only the best things come into being. Only our best dreams are realized at the hands of love. Only our best intentions are made manifest - made into only, exactly, the best thing needed at that exact time.

Anger, jealousy, sadness...these are products of the broken heart. They are symptoms of love lost, or betrayed. Do not allow such things to direct your actions. Twisted plants grow from seeds sown with these hands.

Instead, turn your heart toward love. Turn it to forgiveness and let go those broken things. Let your heart be healed through the creative, restorative power of love. Focus instead on new tomorrows, better days filled with peace, friendship, hope, and joy. These are the fruits of a vibrant heart focused on love. These are our yearnings. Let us set our sights on them.

This is my earnest wish for all - that your hearts be filled with love.

Until All Are Equal - Feminism

The internet is full of fail. It allows idiocy to multiply like a virus and collect into little pools of festering infection. First, let me remind everyone: USE YOUR CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS. It is always a good idea to consider arguments thoughtfully especially if they are well structured and supported by sufficient evidence, regardless of your own opinion.  This is how we learn and grow and that is always a good thing.

Always consider a situation and the definition of the words being applied. Does the situation actually fit the words being applied? Or is the person making statement after statement with malapropisms? In other words, does this person actually know what he or she is talking about?

Just saying.

Now to brass tacks.

Let's remind one another, ladies and gentlemen, why FEMINISM is not the "F word." Feminism is not MAN-HATING or "Feminazism." That is female chauvinism and NOT the same thing (I think we all agree chauvinism is bad...equality is good). Let's also remind one another that FEMINISM is about a set of ideals - a philosophy and a movement. It is about EQUALITY in PUBLIC and PRIVATE spaces for EVERYONE.

If a woman has NOT experienced discrimination or violence because she is a woman, I can only attribute this to one of three things: sheer luck, lack of life experience and/or exposure to the world (i.e. too young), or obliviousness to her own situation and those of women around her.

If a man has not witnessed or met a woman who was discriminated against or attacked because of her vagina, then he can only be too young or oblivious (not asking the right questions or "calling a spade a spade" as it were).

Women, you need feminism because

1. You like being able to vote.
2. You like being able to drive.
3. You like being able to have your opinion weigh the same as someone who has a penis.
4. You like being able to choose if and when you want to be a mother.
5. You like government protected parental leave.
6. You enjoy being able to work...in any industry and any organization.
7. You enjoy making it to upper management (or at least having the possibility to).
8. You like being able to go to college and study whatever you want to achieve whatever goals you have.
9. You want to be able to get the same wage for the same work as someone with a penis.
10. You enjoy being able to wear pants, shorts, skirts, and pretty much anything you want at any time ANYWHERE - seriously... think Saudi Arabia people.
11. You enjoy being taken seriously. Seriously.
12. You want to be seen as a person, as opposed to a walking vagina to be possessed or used.
13. There are still women in this world who do not have access to all the  the above mentioned things.
14. Daycare is still not provided by all employers.
15. Women who take themselves out of the workforce during childbearing years have a difficult time being hired after. 
16. Women are still not trusted to know how to give birth in the US and around the world.
17. Women are still not allowed control over their reproduction in the US and globally.
18. Women are more likely to be the victims of sexual abuse (3 in 10) than  men (1 in 10).
19. Women are much more likely to experience violence at the hands of their partners than men.
20. Women worry about being physically safe with men. Men don't feel that way about women.
21. When saying that someone abused you sexually, society is predisposed to call you a liar and an opportunist unless there is physical proof.
22. "Cunt" is still worse than "dick."
23. "Whore" is a slur. "Pimp" is a compliment.
24. Women are less likely to vote for a female candidate to office.
25. We have been so conditioned by the idea that we can't do certain things that WOMEN REINFORCE the status quo.

Men need feminism because

1. Men can't stay home if they want to (without worrying about societal pressure and stigma).
2. Men like parental leave.
3. Daycare is still not provided by employers.
4. Imbalanced power dynamics foster resentment and subversion by the less powerful.
5. Men (and women) want whole, supported partners.
6. Having an empowered partner means a happier relationship (Ever met someone who had control over their own life who was upset about it? Really?).
7. Men need to know how to be male without being violent or aggressive towards women (read: television, video games, movies, and popular music).
8. Men need to be able to explore their own identities and roles (son, husband, father etc).
9. Diversity of perspective leads to innovation which can lead to better solutions (i.e. dialectics).
10. Everyone is more productive when they are supported and empowered (Think of your sisters, wives, mothers, and daughters here.).

All feminists are not the same, but saying that we don't need feminism is like saying we don't need to worry about racial equality. Sorry, but there is still a whole lot of racism in the US and the world, and there is STILL a lot of sexism in the world.

We definitely need feminism.

Hands Off MY Belly! No Worship Allowed!

I'm not big enough to attract the unwanted belly attention so many pregnant women get. For this I'm very glad.

I'm not sure I'll even get it. I have this uncanny ability to ward people off with my eyes. While it is possible for the socially inept to miss my death glare, generally when I don't want to speak to people, they stay away. I hope this will be the case with my belly, but I'm not holding my breath.

I'm not talking about people asking about the pregnancy. I know that is unavoidable. I know I'll get the stupid comments about how I look bigger or smaller than my number of weeks. I've already gotten plenty of "sleep now because you won't later." These things might be mildly annoying but they aren't bad.

It's the touching thing that concerns me.

The abdomen is a vulnerable place on the body. It is an intimate place. All our vital organs (with one exception) are located there. I have always been sensitive about my belly. It is one body part I've always been self-conscious about, even when I've felt really good in my own skin.

These things alone are enough for me to want no one (unless invited) to touch my belly.

Even still, let's add one more thing. Adult touch is layered with meaning, particularly status. A person of higher status can touch a person of lower status without any real meaning. If a person of lower status touches one of higher status, it implies sexual interest. These things aren't conscious, but are very much a part of how we as humans understand the world as social beings.

The problem arises when someone assumes they are higher status.

I will put several things out there for thought.

I NEVER expect ANYONE to touch me. The exceptions are my friends, family members, and those of clearly higher status (older, C-level executive types or other *highly* accomplished individuals). Those of a clearly higher status are only able to touch my shoulder, arm, and give me a greeting. Anything else is unacceptable to me.

If anyone who is unknown to me touches me, it raises every hackle in my being. If a stranger or acquaintance assumes it is okay to touch me, I get very upset. This is because I feel they don't know my social rank, and I don't know theirs. The assumption before I was pregnant was made based on my sex, which I feel comfortable saying, I am definitely higher in the pecking order than many men, and therefore is a false assumption.

But pregnant?

I don't know if the need to touch a pregnant woman has anything to do with status. It might be worship.

Yes. Worship.

For anyone who has been to a Hindu temple you'll know what I mean immediately. I remember a Devi temple where the press of bodies in the idol room was so intense one wrong step and you'd have been trampled. The fervor of the devotees was immense. But how does this relate to touching a pregnant woman's belly?

Just think - pregnancy is the closest to creation a human can get. All the art and fabrication in the world is nothing compared to the power of the womb. If you were standing that close to a saint or to the Creator, wouldn't you want to touch her? To receive her blessing?

I understand the urge. I do.
And it doesn't fricking matter. You touch me uninvited and I'm touching you right back - possibly with a snappy comment to boot.

My body is not public property. It's a private shrine. Membership is exclusive. Ne me touche pas!

To The Basil Thief

Dear Basil Thief,

I'm not sure who you are. Maybe you were hungry and decided that someone who lived in a Jingletown loft apartment could spare an entire young basil plant. Maybe you were someone who just feels entitled and thought it was easy to steal a plant from its pot.

If it was the first case, I can forgive you. After all, you were hungry and the plant was there and completely edible.

However, I'm pretty sure it was the second.

You rat bastard!

I hate your stinkin' guts for stealing my basil plant! I have nearly a black thumb which barely was able to grow the tomato plants in their current homes. As it is, my pepper plant only has a single GREEN pepper to its measly name. I was proud of my basil plant. You stole it right from under me, while I was at home writing (a very lucrative profession).

So, I hope you enjoyed your basil pesto or your caprese salad at the expense of a poor writer's gardening pride.

Seriously - who steals a frickin' basil plant that's barely 5 inches tall?!

Sincerely,

Your Unwilling Patron Gardener
Alexis

Girls can do anything you can do better...

I read this article, 7 Ways You're Hurting Your Daughter's Future - Forbes and was amazed. It explained so much.
Some might think I mean I understood why I wasn't as successful, or behaved like a doormat. This however, is the exact opposite.
When I was little, my mother insisted on giving me blocks and Legos. I only got pink or purple frilly things when I asked for them. As it was, I had a painting easel, countless creating tools, and as I got older, I even had science kits. Since I loved learning, I had a subscription to Kids Discovery Magazine and shelves upon shelves of books.
I remember when I played with Barbies (even the odd alien proportioned kind!), my princesses didn't wear dresses. Well, okay, they did sometimes. But more often they wore catsuits that were comfortable and flexible. That way they could run through my make believe forests, hunt, help those in need, and most importantly save the prince. My princes were always useless in comparison to my princesses. They constantly got lost, frequently had the wool pulled over their eyes by the bad guy, and inevitably worshipped my well-rounded super heroine.
Now, I'm not saying my childhood was the marvel of gender equality. My father and mother battled their own gendered perspectives before my eyes and some of that rubbed off on me. That said, I am pretty sure that if I want something, I can have it. Yes, it may take me a little time. I may have to make a few sacrifices or change some habits. Still, that is one thing my parents told me I could do - anything.
Now, I'm not getting carried away here. I don't mean that I expected to be a linebacker for the Steelers. But, if I wanted to be the CEO of a company, I could. If I wanted to be a famous actress or musician, I could. If I wanted to change the face of politics, I could. It has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with desire (and a smidgen of inherent ability!).
It's because of my own experience that I am determined. I am determined to make sure when I become a parent I won't fall into the gender gap. I may have some shaky moments. Likely I'll battle my own gender demons in front of those poor kids. With any luck however, they'll be more empowered than I was and am. I can't wait to see that.

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Psychopathic Companies - Inherited Organizational Culture

Recently I've become fascinated with personalities and inherited traits. It makes sense considering that I write about people, and with book 3, Lilith and Ammon, I have been writing a lot about parents and children.

The truth is there is a case for the heredity of personality traits. But that isn't my main concern (I already know I'm like my parents). Personality traits are just the beginning - psychological profiles are much more interesting to me. Let's talk about mental illness for a moment.

Mental illness is at least partially hereditary, though generally it doesn't frighten me. Someone who is schizophrenic or depressed doesn't bother me one bit. If the person sees a therapist regularly and continually takes their medications, they can be a contributing member of society. It's relatively easy to spot, and assuming the person has health coverage (a different issue), it is treatable. But what about hereditary traits that aren't treatable? What about psychopaths, for example?

Psychopaths are scary. I don't mean the serial killers out there. Of course those guys are scary. But they haven't successfully integrated into society. I'm talking about the corporate psychos. I'm talking about one of my ex-bosses. These are people who are willing to do whatever it takes to win at the corporate game. So on the one hand, they're charming and wonderful, and on the other they're manipulative and horrible. They victimize whomever in order to win, which means they become C level in a short period of time.

There are some who argue that corporations are psychopaths (which we know is possible, because they're now legally people). If we follow this logic, a company has a set organizational culture which is developed by its founders. Once set, it is nearly impossible to change. If a company is a person, then the founders are effectively parents. Personality traits are hereditary - passed from the genes of parents to children (i.e. companies). Therefore, the founders of these psychopathic companies are psychopaths themselves.

But what about socially responsible companies? What about places like R.E.I.? There are alternatives to the psychopathic company out there. Their parents have good genes and so they do good in the world.

I am glad alternatives to the psycho corps are out there. It gives me hope. It makes me feel like we have options. Unfortunately, we all have to suffer the consequences of the existing psycho corps. I say, don't bail out these crazy companies. Let them fail - and fail they will. Once they do, let's replace them with new creations of good genes. I could stand a few more R.E.I.s and Seventh Generations in the world. In the mean time, I'll watch the other corporations stab each other repeatedly while I drink my coffee at the beach.

I'm not psycho at all... I swear. :-D

Otown - the Good and the Annoying

Doing whatever you want has pluses and minuses. For example, at Oakland Art Murmur this past Friday, walking down the street we became included in a stranger's conversation about emotions and decisions. This was cool. We also made a friend at a bar, who took us to another bar where we heard a cool local band (Kapowski). These are pluses. Unfortunately, someone in our neighborhood didn't pick up after their dog who shat all over Christian's motorcycle cable. A stationwagon consistently parks exactly where Christian's cable is, preventing him from parking on the street (his bike is currently on the sidewalk). These are negatives. But, this is Oakland, and people clearly do what they want.

I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it. Life, after all, is really about the day to day. Sure, big things are influential, but life is the summation of those little moments. It's why laundry is imortant, and taking out the garbage. It's why holding hands is important. So, those little negatives...repeating...do impact quality of life. I haven't decided how much, however.

Maybe if I put a note on that person's car they'd get the hint? Or would it make them angry? Or ashamed? Should I leave a note on the tree in front of my stoop asking people nicely to pick up their dog's poop? Do I need to sit outside every morning typing away on my laptop to make sure people don't let their dogs poop on our things? You'd think this was common courtesy...but apparently I need to enforce it.

It is Oakland, however. People do what they want.

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"Misogyny Just Part of the Culture?!" A.K.A. "Sci-fi For Girls"

If there is one thing I hate, it's misogyny. Some might argue women-hating is dead. If someone honestly thinks that, it is our duty to take them aside and dispel their delusions. Misogyny is alive and well in one of the most popular American subcultures - nerd culture.

First let's figure out what "nerd culture" means. For the purposes of our discussion, let's assume nerd culture includes hard-core gamers, LARPers, table-top gamers, anime lovers, comic-book fanatics, as well as sci-fi, paranormal, and fantasy lovers. We could include some "geek culture" in this, and add engineers, mathematicians, and computer scientists - there certainly is overlap. However, I think nerd culture, as opposed to geek culture, is the real culprit when it comes to misogyny. Nerd culture does not require any degree of sophisticated higher-learning, whereas education is required in geek culture. Let's face it, the academy is a bit more accepting of gender equality (though women have certainly had a tough slog in the hard sciences). Besides, we're emphasizing a culture spurred by entertainment, not occupation.

Now that we're clear on who is included in our beloved nerd culture, let's tackle the giant flailing elephant in the room.

Why is it that women are second-class citizens in nerd culture?

I think there are several contributing factors. One is the perception of women as evil, manipulative creatures. In the past, nerds were less desirable mates. Thought of as unattractive, and socially incompetent, who would want a nerdy husband when the perfectly-formed athletic ubermensch was available? Nerdy boys have traditionally been friend-zoned, and as we all know, once being declared a friend, it is difficult to be anything else. The collective hurt of being relegated to friend, tormented, and misused by immature teen girls has become internalized by nerd culture. This hurt was transformed into a seething hatred, which was fueled by other aspects of nerd-dom.

This leads us to a second contributing factor to the misogynist nerd. This is the prominent adolescent idea that women are objects, as opposed to subjects, with the sole purpose of providing pleasure. Even if a female character is supposed to be self-possessed, she always appears in spandex, fitted vinyl, or rubber. If she's fully covered, her outfit is skin-tight, but she is just as often half-naked. Usually she has long, tousled hair. She is always beautiful. There is always the undercurrent that her real purpose is to please the men around her, as opposed to any agenda of her own. This depiction of women is an expression of a previously held conception, while serving to reinforce the ideas associated with such images.

While this depiction of women may be one of the more overt contributing factors, there are others that are more insidious. For example, the type of thinking involved in nerd culture is primarily analytical, as opposed to relational. This is perpetuated by the types of games and stories popular in nerd culture.

Honestly, women think differently. Our brains function differently. We react to information in different ways from men. Because nerd culture has been predominated by men, the type of entertainment present is clearly tailored for them. It makes it difficult to break into such a culture, because clearly, women are not welcome. I've heard from many of my nerdy friends that relational stories are stupid, unrealistic, or just plain bad. Of course, these are the same stories that would appeal to many female audiences. I say this because biologically, women are predisposed to concern ourselves with family and community relationships in an effort to raise children. This is not to say that all women are empathetic or relationship oriented (many are not). However there is no reason why hard sci-fi can't have some depth of interaction between characters.

The final contributing factor to nerd misogyny is it's traditionalism. The majority of nerd culture is incredibly closed-minded, though it generally considers itself to be progressive in nature. There are two ways society labels a person progressive - if they have strong leftist opinions (to the exclusion of any other possibility), or in the willingness to entertain opposing or differing perspectives.

The problem is, many nerds think of themselves as progressive in one or both of these ways. Often, however, they are the exact opposite. Let's consider, many nerds consider themselves to be intelligent. However just because a person is intelligent does not mean they are capable of entertaining different perspectives. Intelligence does not require a person be willing to change. And if a person is stupid, good luck trying to figure out the trigger that inspires change.

So yes, nerds may be comfortable entertaining quantum physics theories, and exploring the development from a given comic of 1953 to one of the present, but this does not mean nerds are progressive. In fact, the development of many of the stories so popular in nerd culture is steeped in ancient myths as well as superheros created when Donna Reed was still a "good" idea. Traditional, for the nerd, is in.

There is always a hero - the hero always saves the day. Ideas of chivalry and dominance hierarchies are alive and well. Of course those two heavy weights bring associated gender identities. As we might suspect, women are to be saved, sexed, and set aside (either left in the tavern down the road, or protected by being sequestered in a fortress). It's enough to make this woman want a claymore.

There are many reasons why nerd culture is misogynist, and therefore, we need to attack this belief from a variety of angles. This is one of the reasons why I am so committed to writing the types of stories that I do. I wanted to create things that were "female friendly" - stories that encourage a different perception of women. But a few writers creating stories with different depictions of women is not enough - first and foremost, we need a broader recognition of the incredible misogynist tendencies of nerd culture. Once this is recognized, we can address it on a broad scale in such a way that it can be changed.

After all, the first step is recognizing we even have a problem. How else can we get to step two?

Why Sheeple Are Good - The Problem of Independent Thinking

The other night I had a phone conversation with a good friend. We got to talking about the good and bad things of our respective cities. As we discussed the culture of these places, we got to talking about politics and preferences.

One of the things we noticed was how so many people are willing to agree with things because someone has told them certain ideas are good or correct. This type of behavior is fine when a person is a child. It's expected that children will accept their parents' beliefs and thoughts until they are old enough to make their own decisions. But what happens when children are never taught to think for themselves? What if they grew up without ever learning how to determine their own opinions? come to their own conclusions?

The popular term given to such people is "sheeple." Often times those of us who think independently would suggest this is a bad thing - to behave like sheep. Most would say that it is better to come to one's own conclusions. It is better to think through things, consider evidence, and reach some kind of independent thought. However, independent thinkers are difficult to control. They are difficult to lead.

We can try, of course, to teach people to think independently, but evolutionarily it could be a bad choice. In fact, it might be impossible. Most social animals have some kind of a hierarchy. Primates, birds, insects, even fish have dominance hierarchies. Hierarchies ensure structure. They prevent social animals from falling into chaos. In a time of emergency, a leader can assert him or herself to steer the flock to safety. Humans are no different. When an attractive, charismatic, intelligent person tells us something is true, as a species we generally will accept it as truth. I can only imagine what would happen if the president came on CNN screaming and crying like a little baby. All hell would break loose because our leader had modeled fear.

On the other hand, if the president comes on every network calmly saying we have a plan of action and everything is fine, even if the world is going to hell in a hand basket, people will largely believe him. Most people will remain calm because our leader has said things are fine, and therefore, they trust it must be so. If everyone was an independent thinker however, the situation would be wildly different.

There is a reason that everyone is not able to think independently. There is a reason why we have social structures in place and why certain people naturally are given leadership positions.

This may be annoying to those subordinate independent thinkers. It is especially annoying when many people agree with the entire party line (think: the current incarnation of the Republican party) without a second thought. It might be frightening to listen to someone say they are for either presidential candidate because both will "do a good job," despite having radically opposing views.

The situation may seem hopeless, however there is a solution. We can as independent thinkers, change the beliefs leaders espouse. Or, we can become the leaders ourselves.

It is a process which takes a great deal of time, resources, and influence. Still, it can be done. Within a social hierarchy, there are roles to be played. By creating a network of influence, it is very possible to change what messages are being sent and who receives them. If, for example, Fox News was suddenly owned by someone like me, can you imagine what people might start believing? The world would be a very different place.

Every good leader understands this concept to his or her core. It is true there may be competing ideas, championed by different leaders, but the result is the same. Groups of people will follow them. Groups of people will agree with minimal questioning. This is how society is able to function. This is how laws are accepted and obeyed. It is one of the lessons which is socially reinforced when we are children - through our parents and even our teachers.

Some might argue that it is better to think freely. That all things should be free, on principle. Except we know of course, that could never work. It would be a disaster and it would never happen. Some people can only be one of the flock. That is their role. Just like in every wolf pack, there is always an omega and subordinates. The pack cannot function without these roles being fulfilled. We need sheeple. We need leaders.

Even if we tried to have as egalitarian of a society as possible, these roles would still exist. They might be more subtle, but they would be filled. We are social creatures and we need social structures.

We will never live in a world without sheeple. They have a part to play. Rather than disparage such people, independent thinkers need to accept this. We need to understand how the roles work and how they can be used - for both good and bad. Only then can we fill our own roles and change the direction of our world.

Being Human - The Curious Case of The Empath in The Nighttime

It used to be the distinction of humanity was reason. Then we created computers that could reason just as well as, if not better than us. If it cannot be reason, then what is it that makes us human?

Recently there has been a great deal of discussion about emotional intelligence. Brain researchers have found that emotion, not reason, is what causes us to make one choice over another. Emotion is what makes our society go 'round.Could this be what sets our race apart from the others of our little blue world? And what does this mean for the social status of those who feel deeply?

It used to be that feeling strongly was something discouraged by American culture. Socially, people were expected to put on a smile, regardless of what they felt. The reality is, it has not changed very much. While we may discuss emotional quotients, we look down on those who openly express their emotions. As a culture, it is embarassing for us to see a man cry, a mother yell in anger, or a couple kiss in public. We discourage this kind of behavior through our looks and comments. Even when I kiss my husband in the grocery store, I feel like I have done something wrong when I catch the looks of other patrons. But why shouldn't I kiss my husband whenever I want? After all, I love him. Yet this expression of feeling is unacceptable socially.

If something as small as a public kiss could be an issue, what happens to those who feel emotions that are not their own? If we talk about emotionality as the height of humanity, should not an empath be celebrated for his or her gifts? Yet this group of people is often relegated to the bounds of 'hippy' and 'quack.'

Instead of denegrating such a group, we should take time to understand them. We should ask why they wake up in the middle of the night feeling anxious, because it likely does not have to do with their own feelings. We should find out why the music in a restaurant could make an empath feel strongly one way, and with the next song feel the exact opposite. We should try to understand the tactics and strategies such individuals use just so they can walk through a crowded shopping district. If we can have candid and welcoming discussions about what it means to be empathic, perhaps more empaths would be open about their unusual abilities. We might find there are more out there than we thought.

There are, however, more benefits to open discussion about high emotional intelligence. Not only would empaths be more inclined to "come out," but those who did would reap significant rewards. Just like Mensa, there could be a society for high empaths to enjoy being themselves. This type of society would give empaths a place to connect, find support, as well as gain social status. It could potentially remove the social stigmas associated with empaths, as crystal-using, angel-seeking crazies.

Still it is true that open and frank discussion about such a group will not make everyone comfortable. There is something disturbing about a person being able to feel another's reactions. It is likely that some prejudice would remain, as there is always *some* related to every difference (even now there remains prejudice about red hair!). That said, I believe the benefits to empaths themselves and society in general outweigh any costs.

Emotion is what makes us human. Our ability to feel with others, rejoice and weep, is what marks our place in this world. Because of this, we must value those in our society who feel strongly. We must validate open expression of emotions, and encourage open discussion of empathy and empathic individuals. By doing so, we continue along our path - the path that allows us to actualize our humanity.

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American Pluralism - If You Don't Love It, Leave It

My husband is repeatedly exposed to country music at his work, which regretfully gets stuck in his head. Don't get me wrong, there is some good country music with good messages. There's even some country music I enjoy. But just like all music, there's some really bad stuff out there too.

Then of course, there's stuff that makes me want to punch people.

This side of country music represents a certain portion of the population that misses the "good ole days" when everyone was the "same" in America. Fightin' Side of Me and songs like it, represent the provincial white American protestant male. And these boys are scared. They're scared because suddenly there are a lot fewer of them and a lot more "others." While living in the Bay Area, the average person was about five or six indefinable ethnicities. The blond and blue-eyed were much more rare.

The problem with the US is it has never been a country where everyone was "the same." In fact, that is one of the best things about America. Difference defines us. It makes this country stronger because we fight with each other until we figure out a common ground. We have people of every race, culture, creed, and religion in this country. We have people of every political and socio-economic persuasion. It is increasingly impossible to look at a person and know who or what they are. We have to ask. And this characteristic is a pain in the ass, no question. But it makes us better because when we struggle through our differences, we become stronger. We know and love ourselves better, and we adhere to our convictions that much more.

Despite the positives, some would rather not have this high level of difference. This particular characteristic - pluralism - is annoying to those who long for a mythical past where everyone was white bread, drank lemonade, and had mothers who looked like Donna Reed (Sorry guys, but that only happened on television!). In a world where the white American male is already a dying breed, and identities become increasingly complex with lines constantly shifting and blurring, it makes sense this group would get angry.

But I've come to put a little perspective on this. Boys, calm down!

There are reasons why people come to the US. We are ultimately a nation of immigrants. Let me give you a few examples. When I studied abroad in Hungary in 2004, some of the students I met made anti-semitic comments. I distinctly recall my shock at the words coming out of these kids' mouths. Did they not remember the Nazi party of their own country? Could they not see the beautiful but empty synagogues testifying to the systematic destruction of European Jews? I couldn't believe this was still alive and well. It makes sense to me that certain groups would want to leave a place where they were still unwelcome after all these years. But anti-semitism isn't the only reason why someone might come to the states.

When I was visiting Nicaragua in 2002, I saw the deep lingering scars left by their civil war. The abject poverty of mountain villages was astounding; even a 10 cent bag of rice was out of reach. I can understand why those people would struggle to move to a place where they could be safe and have opportunities to make more money to provide for their families. Economy and security are just two more reasons why someone would become American. But America isn't just a land of opportunity - America is the land of equal opportunity.

While I was in India in 2007, it struck me as strange that it was impossible to get away from ethnic origins. Every single surname pinpointed the exact location of a person's family - from their region and dialect, to their caste. As much as someone wanted to be heard and valued, as much as someone wanted to work to better themselves, there was always a painful, and acknowledged, glass ceiling. It makes sense then, for these people to move to a place where they could, in theory, change their economic and social fate.

There are many reasons for people to come to the US. These are personal examples of times when I could see why someone would move here. However, these aren't the only situations. In other places it is still possible to be persecuted for what a person believes or thinks. It is still possible to be jailed for speaking out against the government. Luckily for us, that is something that distinctly goes against the American grain. We have freedom of speech. It's great! I love it! And I will defend that right for those with whom I adamantly disagree. The reason is I think it is important. It is one of the ways we become a better society.

It is patriotic to disagree. It is patriotic to stand up for what we believe in. It is patriotic to say we should work for peace, rather than killing people. It is patriotic to say that corporations should just be companies, and not considered people by law. It is patriotic to say rich people should give back that much more because of all they have taken from their fellow citizens. These are patriotic opinions that have a place in our American political conversation. Why? Because they all strive to make this country better. And they require all of us to address these issues. We really can't ignore these voices when we live in a democracy. It's immoral, and frankly it's un-American.

I'm  willing to put up with the consequences of living in a society of difference. I love it and value it. It's one of the things that truly makes me proud to be American.

And to those who don't have the balls to do the same, well, you can leave.

Babies Are Weird Pooping Machines

It's no secret I'm at that point in life when babies are on the brain. My biological clock ticks while friends and family poke and prod at the subject. And of course, part of me really likes the idea of starting a family. Except I had never held a newborn. I didn't know what it was like - until today.

So I went to my friend's house. He and his partner had recently taken in a baby through foster care, with the plan to adopt. And this baby is cute as far as newborns go. He's smiley, and quiet, and sweet. Really. But I couldn't help thinking, when I saw my friend's efforts towards this little thing, this is boring relative to how much crap you need to do. Now I know there are a lot of things that go into minute to minute maintenance which keeps a person busy, and boring is better than exciting with children, but for some reason, I expected more. I had no idea new borns were literally poop machines without much, if any, personality.

I know my friends are attached to this baby, and there are many physiological reasons for this. However, I couldn't help thinking, I must not really want a kid yet. I know it's different when this thing pops out of you - of course you'd be attached. After all, it's yours! Still, it's a hard concept for me to wrap my head around.

When I imagine parenting, I don't imagine babies. I imagine toddlers, five year olds, and teens. Part of this is because with my own brother, he had a personality when he came to our family. He was already well on his way to 2. I was never around babies - not really. Besides, the majority of parenting doesn't involve babies, it involves toddlers, young children, and teens. Now I find myself in a strange predicament. How do I know when I want to have a kid? Obviously when that boring sleep deprived phase sounds palatable. Because I'm not interested in those first few months. I'm interested in the person who'll show up in year 2 and 3.

I say this now, knowing that when it's your own kid it is different. Still, I now expect to be bored and busy. It's good to have realistic expectations. Otherwise I might wonder why the baby didn't sing and dance (just kidding - really).

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Forgiveness is Overrated - Sometimes

In the flickering blue light of the computer, I find myself thinking of the same thing over and over. When do you forgive someone? When is forgiveness no longer an option?

Lately there are many things in the world that are occuring which many people would say should be forgiven, but others come down in a different place. When do you let someone go? What is unforgiveable? It is a matter of preference, of opinion. For many, the grudge is alive and well, sucking the life out of a person's relationships and even emotional well-being. And in some cases, perhaps things are forgiven that should not be.

Is it when a person crosses the line once too many, showing they will never change? If so, how many times does it take before it becomes impossible to forgive a person? And what if this person is your spouse? What if this person is a family member? I have a tendency to cut people off quite early. It's a habit acquired through years of systematically removing drama and complication from my life. This might work for a casual acquaintance or a friend - maybe even an employee. But for a family member? A sibling? A child? A parent? To no longer forgive strains the relationship not only with the offending party, but also those with other family members. Still, there are times when a child/parent/sibling must be disowned. The consequence is severe and hopefully matches the crime.

Spouses are something different. You choose them, binding them legally with you. There is no longer the individual, but the couple. It is a painful and horrible act to disown a spouse. Normally I would argue for working things out rather than divorcing, however there are two situations which I will always accept without question for divorce. Those are adultry and abuse.

Adultry could be forgiven. So why is this one acceptable grounds for not forgiving your spouse? The act of sleeping with someone else disrupts the identity, the sanctity of the couple within the community. The offending party has already separated him/herself from the couple, thereby becoming an individual once again. That doesn't mean some couples won't deal with it and get over it. The question just becomes, when is it too much. When is enough, enough?

Abuse, on the other hand, is always unforgiveable. Abuse of a child or other half by a spouse, of any kind, should be grounds for immediate divorce. This includes verbal. So often women ignore this, telling themselves it's just spirited fighting, he doesn't mean it etc. Sticks and stones, right? Bullshit. Words hurt. Their wounds can last a lifetime. And if children are in the mix, even if they don't receive the brunt of it, they learn this is an acceptable way to be treated and/or treat others.

In these extreme cases, the wider community becomes affected. So then, when does the extended family, and/or friends intervene? Is it okay for them to step in and 86 the offending party on behalf of the offended? Even if the victim doesn't want that? But some people must be removed from our lives. Some people must be ostracized for the health of the community when they have done the unforgiveable.

Still, when do we do that? When is something unforgiveable? I find myself in a place now where I feel strongly about how a person has treated my friend, but I am incapable of intervening. I am not the one who has been wronged, though I am impacted. For the offender, it's a good thing I'm not, because things would have turned out very differently.

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