The State of Independence

No one is an island.

I've been thinking a lot about independence, specifically the ability to choose within a free framework, and the illusion of freedom.

It bothers me that anyone thinks they are free - that they are independent. No one really is. The idea that anyone can function in a vacuum, completely devoid of outside influences (total freedom, a nearly Buddhist state) is impossible in the material world.

You are not free.

There are levels, a spectrum of freedom, on which we can claim more choice or less. There are independent thinkers (I count myself one) who are able to observe a situation and choose based on their established principles and ideas as opposed to being swayed by popular opinion or carefully crafted marketing materials.

There are people who are independently wealthy (a flawed term, but for the purposed of discussion...) and able to control their environments by throwing money at problems, people, or things.

There are people who choose to isolate themselves from society, taking to the wilderness, foraging and homesteading as requirements dictate.

But in all these cases, pure independence, even in these situations, is impossible.

The independent thinker is dependent on their faculties of observation, their socialized influences, their friends, and the news for input to come to conclusions.

The independently rich person is entirely dependent on markets and systems that nurture wealth creation in order to maintain their status.

The hermit is dependent on the knowledge accumulated by society from generations in order to actively choose and succeed in his lifestyle of isolation.

The independent cannot function without outside assistance. They are, fundamentally, in relationship with the rest of the world. There is, no such thing, as independence (Happy Fourth!).

I can't help thinking about these things in relation to the work I do daily. While I am an independent author (i.e. not associated with a publisher) I do not function in a vacuum. I require many systems in place in order to do the work I do. In fact, without these systems, technological innovation, and the democratization of information, my work would be impossible. I would cease to be.

Unlike a large publishing house, I am a leaf on the wind. I can be blown this way or that by circumstances outside of my control. I can be crushed easily if systems are removed. I am still dependent.

More than anything, I am dependent on your support. You are my most crucial system, my most cherished dependency - my reader. To do what I do, I am dependent on everything you do - buying, reading, sharing, gifting, patronizing, encouraging, reviewing, and rating. And I am comfortable with this "vulnerability." So this weekend when my American readers are eating hamburgers, hot dogs, and shooting off fireworks, remember those people on whom you depend, and those who depend on you. We are all connected. We are all dependent. And that is a good thing.

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As an indie author, I'm a bit like a local business and depend on the love and support of readers like you. Please check out my website where the "buy" links support me the most (and big business the least!). 

You can also support me through becoming a patron! Even $1 helps (but the more you support, the more rewards you get!)!

THRIVE: How to Become a Superhero

Take the chaos and shape it.

If you're in a public place, look around. Look at the people nearby. If you're at home, or in your office, imagine some of your friends. Some of the people you know.

Some of them are superheroes.

You might not realize it. You may not know all the battles they've fought - all the things they've done. And they don't have spandex catsuits (or maybe they do?). They don't have alter egos. They don't have X-ray vision given to them by gamma rays or a weird mutation that allows them to extend bone claws out of their knuckles.

These are not comicbook characters! That would be ridiculous.

No. These people are bona fide heroes. They are testaments to the enduring nature of human spirit. They are beacons of hope in a world of chaos. They are pillars of strength in the face of weakness.

But they weren't always this way. They went through a transformation. And no, it wasn't a genetically modified spider bite or falling into a vat of toxic waste that did it.

More likely it was trauma. It was illness. It was death. It was poverty. It was shunning. It was being stripped down to the bone and being left to fend for themselves. And it sucked.

This process is not fun. It is not easy. Being a superhero is not something you want to do - except it is.

When life gives you horror, terror, pain, and despair, you have a choice. You can allow it to ruin you. You can allow yourself to be weighted down, to wallow, to die an agonizing death of the self. Or you can do something remarkable. You can refuse.

You can embrace the pain and shape it in your hands into something you can use. And once you decide to do that, you are no longer on an ordinary path - you have chosen to be remarkable. And you are. Because everyone is not willing to do this hard work. There are no shortcuts in this process.

You may be wondering, "Well, Alexis, why would I buy your book? I thought it would teach me what to do!"

There are no shortcuts to the transformation. You can't be a superhero without pain. That's the rub. No one gets to that place without extreme experiences. You will suffer.

I repeat - you will suffer.

But that's okay. Because with the right perspective, the right approach to problem-solving, to looking at your life, you can use those experiences.

And the perspective requires learning and practice. It is the difference between saying "I am unemployed and therefore a loser." and "I am unemployed. I should write a novel since I have the time." When you've grown up surrounded by people thinking the former, the latter becomes difficult to do. Sometimes you need a guide. A little help figuring out how to change.

THRIVE gives you specific lessons in changing your perspective. Each chapter has a story from my personal experience. In some cases they are disturbing. But in every case, I got through the experience and used it to grow or do something remarkable. And you can too, if that is what you want.

And believe me, that is definitely something worth wanting.

No one wants to suffer, but if you do, use it. Use it to become great.

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Until June 15, ebook versions of THRIVE: HOW I BECAME A SUPERHERO and the companion journal guide, TRANSFORM TO THRIVE: 32 DAYS FROM VICTIM TO SUPERHERO are at a special price. Preorder and save! Or if you prefer paperback, order the book and journal today!

THRIVE Book Launch Week 6: Temping

Keep moving. It's all temporary.

Recently I had an epiphany, which is strangely related to THRIVE.

I realized even though I still get freaked out, depressed, or angry, even in the moment I see the experience of those feelings as temporary. Before, I felt bad and it made me feel like the whole world was awful and there was no light. Now I recognize I am reacting to a specific situation, which will pass, and it does nothing to hinder my progress.

Before I might have wallowed. Now I give myself the freedom to feel, accept the feeling, and then move on to do what has to be done.

My core situation is solid - I have my family. We love each other. Everything else is dressing. Everything else is a game. I move the pieces. I try different things. I experiment. I have fun. I get annoyed. And at the end of the day, I come back to my husband and son.

While I haven't been in war, I've been torn down enough to know that I have what really matters in life. I have family, friends, and an extensive support network who surround me with love. In this, I have been extraordinarily successful. And I am profoundly grateful for this situation, and for the epiphany that everything else in life is just fun and games.

Really.

That is not to say that my actions don't matter, or that I don't want to have a legacy for my son, or a positive impact on my community, country, and planet. I do want those things.But I am open to how they play out. I am detached from a specific result. I intend to enjoy the ride. I intend to enjoy helping as many people as I can with THRIVE. I intend to enjoy fulfilling the purpose given to me. I intend to enjoy every moment of life, even the angry, sad, or anxious ones. All of these things are gifts. All of them are part of the experience - part of the game.

And it's all good. Truly it is.

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LAUNCH UPDATE

It's a bit of a mixed bag, and I feel like last week was a blur. Maybe the stress of the marathon involved with this process finally caught up to me. Whatever it was, I was exhausted all week and had trouble focusing on tasks. That said, I was able to finish the following:

• Patreon blog post
• Patreon art upload
• Regular blog posts
• Incorporated magicworkers' suggestions into press kit
• Scheduled a meeting with a "connector" who has a lot of similar interests and influential friends
• Finished west coast press kit contact database (in hopes of speaking engagements)
• Reached out to connected friends at several universities
• Finished revamping LOVERS & RIVALS
• Determined ideal camera set up for videos
• Recorded prelim/video tests (need to redo for the perfect ones)
• 43% revamped LILITH & AMMON
• 75% done with "influences" page on author website
• Created "author ambassador" contact form and solicited from friends and other connections.
• Downloaded fonts for new covers
• Downloaded grammar extension for word processor

And the plan for this week is:

• Finish LILITH & AMMON
• Finish formatting THRIVE
• Finalize revamped covers for KHLOE series
• Patreon EXCLUSIVE upload of a short story
• Blog posts
• Finalize "influences" page
• Finalize first video set (especially Patreon ones)
• Upload KHLOE books with revamped covers to all outlets
• Upload new covers to website & blog
• Finalize east coast contact database
• Have meeting with connector and follow up on any relevant brainstorming/ideas

I think that's it...but I'm a little scattered at the moment. I'm experiencing that temporary feeling of anxiety the closer I get to pre-order day (May 15). In the end, everything will be what it will be...BUT, I still don't want to get caught with my pants down. I know that everything could always get picked and prodded more, and that I just have to let that go. I can't know what people will get riled about, or what will speak to people. I can't worry about it. In the end, it was my life. You can't argue with experience. It was. It speaks for itself. And I can't control what others hear.

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."

Rejection, Grief, and the Search for Direction

I am in a place where the eye does not see.

That line from Avatar keeps floating around my head. It keeps floating because it feels like I have been abandoned, by dreams and hope. It feels like I've been abandoned by light itself.

On Friday I got an email from one of the doctoral programs saying I was rejected. To be fair, it was kindly done. It was as compassionate as such an email can be. They had only so many spots. It was very competitive. I had a very strong essay. They were very sorry and looked forward to watching my contributions to the field from afar.

After I read it I was in shock. I couldn't hear my son asking for me. I couldn't think. I didn't know what I was seeing. I put on Sesame Street and sat down. I needed to talk it out - figure out how I felt about this.

"I can't believe it." That was my first thought.

"What am I going to do?" That was the second.

"They're going to regret this later." The third.

"Who can I call?"

But it was the middle of the afternoon. No one was around. People were working. I was alone with my son and my heart was breaking. I was barely functional. I didn't want to scare him. I couldn't let myself feel. I couldn't yell. I couldn't scream. I wouldn't allow myself to cry. And I wanted all that. I wanted to pour out every inch of my heart to get rid of that awful, horrible, poisonous feeling inside.

Because it wasn't just about the school. It wasn't just about rejection. It was about what the hell I am supposed to do next fall. 

I can't keep living at my parents' house in a tiny bedroom in one of the most expensive counties in the country. I can't keep subsisting - just making loan payments, and just writing my reclusive heart into ones and zeros. I have to do something. I have to be someone. I have to live up to some standard of myself that has remained out of reach for approaching a decade. I have to make the world a better place. I have to charge down the path of legacy, making my mark with more than sand or ink. I need to ossify that shit so it is impossible to remove - so it is carved into the bigger psyche of America. So I know I am more than shouting in the dark. It is so time.

Eight years is too long to put yourself on hold. It is too long to pretend everything is okay. It is just too long to maintain a lie, a lie that became my glass cage, letting me look out watching as others, my equals in socialization and education, mastered their own successes and left me behind.

If I was lucky they would look past me, forgetting my existence, just a figment of their past life. "I wonder what happened to Alexis?" "Oh, I don't know. She's probably changing the world or something. You know how she is." And then they would move on with their day, satisfied they solved their question. 

If I was unlucky, they would look down and see my glass box, see me struggling against uncontrollable forces and bounded choices that kept me contained. They would frown, ask me how I was doing, how they could help, all the while congratulating themselves for not being in my place.

"How lucky I am! I never took out that many loans!"

"How good it was that I could live in X city where the labor market was good when I needed a job!"

"How wonderful it is that I happened to study this while in school, and met such and such person, who put me on the fast track to upper middle class comfort!"

Everyone doesn't think this way. Some, I know from their big hugs and flowing tears, genuinely grieved at my rejection, at the closing of a door we thought was the right one. They thought, like I did, this would be a way for my family - a cold, harsh change, but at least a path to success.

Many remind me that I have other options still yet to get back to me. And if I'm honest with myself, I still have at least three books intended for publication this year. I have a bunch of articles I intend to pitch to various online magazines about various things. It isn't really the end. I know that. My mind knows that. But my heart? My heart is still in total freak out mode.

I still haven't answered that fundamental question, "What am I going to do?"

And the reality is, I can't. I don't know what I will do because it isn't clear. The path hasn't been determined because all the pieces are not yet moved. All the tactics are not tested. Everything hasn't been tried. There are things that just haven't come full circle yet.

So even as I freak out, and grieve, and rage, and wallow, I am digging in my heels. I am reading. I am thinking. I am researching. I am trying and testing and moving. This is all I can do, now that the shock is gone and my tears have dried. I grope my way through the darkness, hoping to be seen, hoping to see, always seeking more light.

Total Equality: A Feminist Manifesto

Recently Obama called for the American legislature to require equal pay for equal work. There have been a lot of conversations about that.

I would argue his call is premature, not because I don't want that. I do. I absolutely completely do. I just think the problem is bigger than that.

You can't eradicate a symptom if you don't cure the disease. The disease, in this case, is sexism, and it is pandemic. The body politic is infested with this horrible, debilitating illness. And we need a cure. We can treat the symptoms, but they will keep coming back in one way or another, until we address the illness as a whole.

It is for this reason I wrote and published TOTAL EQUALITY. I don't think people realize how pervasive sexism is in America. I don't think people realize how damaging it is, how painful it is, as a woman, to be systematically disregarded over and over again (my brown skinned friends know this very well, and I empathize with that hot mess because there is a lot of overlap). I wrote this because I wanted it to be absolutely clear, in one place, easily understood, just what is required for women to be equal to men.

Obama is right. It should happen now. It has been a long time. But let's be clear - this is still a big task, especially when America won't admit there is a problem in the first place.

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.

Misandry, Misogyny, and The Third Way

I am a feminist and... I love men.

WHAAAAAT?!?! I can hear some misandrist somewhere shaking her fist and shouting obscenities.

Blasphemer!

Heretic!

Except it isn't. I think it's safe to say that most women love men. They love their fathers. They love their brothers. They love their sons, partners, husbands, and friends. There are quite a lot of men in our lives that we love.

I think it's pretty safe to say that most women also want respect, because we're people and people want respect. We want the ability to control our lives and have our choices, feelings, and values honored.

These things should not be controversial, news, or rocket science. They are common sense.

That all said, I understand why there are women out there who hate men. I get that. I get the personal experience that is so incredibly hurtful it shades your perspective on every person to the point of essentialism. I can understand why an abused woman would hate her abuser, or anyone with qualities reminding her of that person. I understand why someone would hate her attacker, and anyone with similar qualities. It makes sense to me, but it also is something that I believe everyone needs to move past.

I am not someone saying "just get over your hurt." That is not what I mean at all. I mean to say we need to be different. We cannot act like oppressors pointing to a whole group of people and claim they are all exactly alike. That is preposterous. I would be angry if someone said all women were X or Y (hee hee) so how can I do the same thing to another group?

I also recognize there are still a lot of insecure men out there who continue to perpetuate sexual inequality and that situation isn't something we as women can just "get over." That said, we cannot make choices based out of fear, anger, or hatred. This is the way down a spiral of pain and despair.

Instead, let us honor ourselves and our fellow humans by acting out of compassion, wisdom, and justice. Whatever feminist actions we take, let them be informed by these three values, for if we do not, then we are no better than misogynists.

It is time for us to reclaim feminism from hatred and reassert it's original purpose - equality for all. This is neo-feminism - one that transcends misandry and allows for men supportive of the women in their lives to rejoin the movement. As a woman married to a man, who bore a son, I'd like feminism to welcome them with open arms, so they can work beside the women they love for a brighter tomorrow.

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.

Strange Power

Strange things happen when you're open. I don't mean opening your front door - although strange things can happen then too - rather I mean, being open to life. I mean, living - really living.

I am the last person to deny anxiety. I am a queen of anxiety. I have an app in which I record my moods daily (of which there are many) and I frequently check the anxious face, along with the worried face, and the stressed one, and the tense one...

Keep in mind this is when I am meditating and doing physical activity of some kind...which makes me think I could probably stand a few anxiety hypnosis sessions, if not mood altering substances.

I feel anxious every day. Literally - every day - at least once a day, if not sixty-three times daily I am anxious. I don't mean just a little uncomfortable - I mean gut-twisting, nausea-wrangling, lip-biting, nail-drumming anxious.

I carry it in my shoulders. This means they are super tight, up to my ears, and often hunched when I'm going through a particular spell of high stress.

You may have surmised my life is a little stressful these days. Truthfully I am probably more anxious now than I have been since junior high (another story for another time). Then it was a daily battle with the self - a struggle to decide status, acceptance, and place. It's been almost twenty years and while certain elements were released and resolved, new ones grew to take their place. That's crazy.

This anxiety I carry around is crazy. It has been a personal obstacle in more than one situation. It has stopped me from so many things, which seems strange because if you know my history, you know I've done a lot. I mean, I lived in India for six months and it didn't stop me then!

Now you're wondering what it did stop me from doing.

Maybe pursing a doctorate earlier? Trying a crazy entrepreneurial idea to the fullest extent? Calling a long-lost and well-loved friend on the phone to confess life moments? I don't know if it was just the anxiety. I know that was a part of it. I know there was a part of me when I was younger that just couldn't handle the idea of settling down into any kind of set structure. I know there was a part of me that couldn't handle the idea of failing at anything because I've lived under the crippling shadow of perfectionism from more than one quarter. There were expectations and there was always the thought in the back of my mind that I would be imposing - that I couldn't afford it - that I wasn't good enough - that they had other friends in person who were closer or more important - that I wasn't worth the time. These were the words that repeated over and over again.

It doesn't matter how successful or brilliant or amazing a person is - they are still vulnerable. There are still pieces deep in the bowels of a person's soul that are hidden, protected by layer upon layer of acquired emotional armor. But I heard someone say, it isn't the protected who have power. Those with mech-warrior battlements are more brittle than shale, weaker than mica. The armored cannot expose themselves. They cannot become close. They cannot grow outside their protective shell.

The world belongs to the vulnerable - the weak - those willing to expose their soft underbellies to the light of day. Those who hand their hearts and minds to others - despite the risk of betrayal, ridicule, and destruction - own all social power. They are the ones who risk everything, and like a good stock broker, they could lose it all. But they could also win the day. Their rewards could be richer than their wildest dreams, all because they risk everything.

Shed your anxiety. Be vulnerable. It pays better.

Come Out, Come Out, Whoever You Are!

Some paths are scary...

Lately there have been several recurring themes in my life and therefore, my writing: coincidence, fate, purpose, choice, self-acceptance, and "coming out."

But worth it.

First of all, I don't believe in coincidence. I'm a person of faith and I've had too many strange things happen in my life to believe in "coincidence." I believe that everything happens for a reason, so you could say I believe in a kind of fate and that things - and people - have related purposes.

That said, I also believe you can choose to ignore or follow your purpose. In order to actively make that choice, many times a person must engage in self-exploration. This often leads to the discovery of both pleasant and unpleasant elements of the self (history, talents, preferences, personality traits, etc). This also leads to the possibility of self-acceptance (or not).

The process of discovery and acceptance in turn leads to the possibility of "coming out."

When encountering the phrase "coming out" most people think of an LGBT person openly declaring their gender/orientation, however "coming out" is not exclusively an LGBT act. Any part of the self that has been hidden, dormant, or laying in a deep recess can be brought to the light of day and shared with others. The process, and often the implications, are the same.

It is the implications of "coming out" - of a change in identity - that piques my interest. It also keeps me up at night.

Coming out is hard. It isn't like going from the identity of coupled woman to mother. That identity is clear and easy to see. It is one most people encounter on a regular basis, and for most people, there are no loose ends or questions raised by such an identity change.

The nature of coming out means the hidden identity or issue being brought into the open is uncomfortable, otherwise it wouldn't have been hidden. There is something shameful or uncomfortable, or difficult about this identity or issue, usually for both the self and others. It calls some fundamental thing into question - roles, relationships, actions, all shift to a new and strange place with this new identification.

Sometimes such identifications become the person. Literally, these difficult identities are so hard to get past for most other people, the self becomes two-dimensional. Suddenly the self is only lesbian, is only an addict, is only poor, is only an abuser, is only a victim, is only a criminal according to the other. Pigeon-holing abounds when the new issue comes to light. In order to overcome this shallowing process, the self must work extra hard to show up this new identity: I am green, progressive, Christian, athletic, multi-racial, multi-lingual, educated etc. These other identities are forced into competition with the "shameful" and marginalized new identity.

Some people choose to embrace their marginalized identity and center their lives around these things, for example a once battered woman turned activist who works with battered women. Another example would be a recovering alcoholic choosing to support others in their quest for sobriety. The centering of this identity surpasses a volunteer level, but moves to paid work as well as possible volunteering. Literally, life in these situations is entirely focused on this "shameful" identity.

The other possibility is to downplay such identities and to focus on something else. I think of the case of Maya Angelou who could have focused much of her writing and energy on the fact that she was molested and raped as a child. She could have written much of her work about - and championed victims of - sexual abuse and assault, however she did not. She chose a wider platform that included socio-economic, race, gender, and orientation identities rather than a single pigeon-holed identity of "victim."

Of course no one is a single thing. Each person has multiple facets, each informing the other. Experiences, preferences, and inherent abilities all contribute to the people we are. Often, however, one aspect or set of aspects stands out. One or a set of identities speaks to us more. We identify with a given set more strongly, and there are reasons for this (our experiences and preferences, for example).

This is where a given person's purpose lies - surrounding those identities of utmost importance.

However there is tension in balancing a person's purpose with the potential of pigeon-holing. There is tension surrounding that question of pigeon-holing and acceptance by others. Will I be stereotyped if I come out? Will I always be only this one thing? Will my identity overshadow my purpose? Will it interfere with achieving my life purpose? - asks the self.

Inevitably, the answer is: I don't know. We cannot know. The other is the one who answers these questions by their actions - their acceptance and rejection. It is only when the self is made vulnerable by coming out that the answer can be given and received. Until then, there is only anxious speculation.

We all have secrets. We all have hidden parts of ourselves. With every hidden piece, there is a debate regarding with whom we render ourselves vulnerable. For those who live more public lives - bloggers, writers, pastors, politicians, celebrities - the debate is more intense. The revelation of a secret self has more lasting and difficult implications. Will my brand be impacted? Will my image be impacted positively or negatively (because it will be impacted one way or another)? Is it worth it? Is it more important to be honest and authentic than to worry about the potential fallout? How strongly do I identify with this part of myself? If I decide to come out, how should I do it? Will it be quiet? Will it be for maximum impact? If so, what would create maximum impact?

These are the questions we ask ourselves. These are the questions that keep us up at night because there are no easy answers. There are no right answers. There are only answers that align with a person's purpose and those that do not. So it comes down to choice: what is your purpose? Who is your secret self? Will sharing your secret self with others further your purpose in this world? If the answer is yes, then it's time. It's time to come out.

Creation and Destruction

The soul yearns to create. This is the mode of artists, engineers, writers, and developers. This is the language in which we speak - we solvers of problems - the structure of our universe. This is the root from which all beauty comes.

But what of destruction?

Destruction is so quick - so easy. It takes seconds for fire or water or weapon to render creation to dust. It doesn't matter how many hours or days, years or decades were spent in its formation. Destruction comes in seconds.

In pantheons the god of creation is always close with that of destruction, for as all people know, throughout time and space, they are two sides of the same coin.

Death is not an end, but transition into new life. The old is cleared away in preparation for the new. Entire cities are built upon cities, upon cities. Coral grows upon the skeletons of dead coral. Plants feast on the remains of everything, broken down by the tiniest of creatures...broken down to dust - to dirt.

It is only when we forget to embrace this cycle, the second and more frightening half, that we come to problems. Everything must be broken down at some point. Everything must be picked apart. Everything must be destroyed, or it will limp along, sick, twisted, and pained - a kind of perpetual Hell.

That is not what existence wants. It wants destruction, just like it wants creation. Each of us has a part to play in this beautiful balance. Each of us is called to be creator and destroyer in the same breath...

We struggle, we question, we tear down and then, always, we build a better up.

Patience Through The Doldrums

The Doldrums are a place in the ocean where nothing moves – the water is still. The wind is still. To a sailor it is a kind of death. You can speed directly into the doldrums, and once there, you're stuck until by chance your luck turns and you find a current, however slow, that when combined with your oars, take you to a place of movement and life.

This is where I am right now. It's not just in writing or in business, but in life. I'm in the doldrums. It doesn't matter how sunny the day is, or how wonderfully smiley my son is – everything is gray and muddled and stuck.

I get like this whenever I feel like things aren't moving fast enough. I am a pretty fast moving person. Whenever I make a decision I take action immediately. I don't wait around. Yes, I might do research. I might collect information for a time, but once all of it is in, I don't dally. I don't waffle. I decide. When the decision has been made, everything falls into place because I decided it would be so. I move. I act. Things push forward. That's how the majority of my life has been.

Needless to say, I have a streak of impatience a mile wide.

For someone like me who decides to do things and acts with the urgency of an ER surgeon, it's hard when things don't move at my pace. I can't understand when people don't come to the same conclusions I do (What do you mean you don't already know and love my books? What do you mean you don't want to come to my writing class and bring all your friends and their friends?). I can't understand when people don't want to move on decisions with the same speed and certainty that I do (What do you mean you don't want to go right now?! What do you mean you don't know what you want out of life?!).

I don't live like that. I'm always moving to the next thing. But I also have slow days where all I do is eat Nutella covered toast and watch old movies on cable. Granted, I would choose to have fewer of those than more, but they do happen. It's kind of like a firefighter. There are moments of extreme nearly frenetic action, followed by clean up and card playing.

My husband is not like me. He is slow and deliberate. He takes his time with everything (except in crisis situations where his protective tendencies come out in full force). It's hard for someone like me to be married to someone like him. This is probably even worse when I'm hyped up on coffee at 7 AM and he hasn't been able to discern which way is up yet (okay, it's much worse).

Being married to someone who functions on a different pace is difficult, but it's not as difficult as when the whole world seems to function slower. I literally feel like the world is dragging me down. I feel like the wind has stopped and the water has stilled. My first inclination is to find a solution to this problem. Generally a solution for me means another project. But if I started a new project every time I fell into the doldrums, I'd be spread so thin I wouldn't accomplish anything.

It's a problem. A serious problem.

I want to work on things, but I'm stuck. In order to unstick myself, I need to work on things. I feel trapped by my reactions to stress, which is more stressful.

Are you dizzy yet? I am.

My decision to get out of the doldrums at this point is to work on an old story idea I had back in 2012. It's fun, doesn't require research or rereading of any of my books, and it can be worked on in chunks. Each chapter can be as long or short as I want because of the nature of the story. It's perfect. And then when I feel ready to return to something a little more difficult to write, I can. Meaningful progress. Thank God!

Crossing Genres: Poetry, Fiction, and Non-fiction

Well, I'm in the process of putting my toe into three pools. Some people say this is a bad idea, while others have done it quite successfully and encourage such an adventure.

Honestly, I really don't care what "they" say. I'm doing it. That's final. It's done.

I'm particularly inspired by the non-fiction work of several of my favorite "children's" authors - C.S. Lewis and Madeleine L'Engle. Both these individuals were people of faith and their spirituality profoundly influenced their writing - not just their fiction, but also their non-fiction.

I'm finding that to be the case for me as well.

It is good to write fiction. It is good to write good fiction. But how can I sit back and not put my two cents in on issues that matter to me in a non-fiction way? Yes, my blogs can do that for me to some extent. Perhaps they will at some point develop into some kind of book or series themselves (stranger things have happened). But a blog is a different kind of thing. The writing I'm talking about has a very different purpose, and certainly one devoid of the diary or even essay form that is so popular in the blogosphere.

It's for this reason I published my poetry collection. It's for this reason I am in the process of revising my world religion curriculum. Do they speak to the same audience? Maybe there is some overlap. I'm not sure. But I'm acutely aware that most of the readers of these three areas will likely not overlap. I'm comfortable with the idea that different people will need to be reached for these very different creations.

And that's okay.

I doubt Lewis or L'Engle thought their non-fiction pieces would be avidly devoured by the same readers of their most famous children's series. If they did, I think we would have labelled both of them "delusional." Were (are) their non-fiction pieces read as widely as their fiction? I doubt it. Does it make their contribution to spiritual discourse less valuable? Certainly not.

I don't write for fame. I write because my soul burns. There is too much to hold inside - it must find voice. It must find expression. I must call out into the dark, loud and clear. I would love more than an echo of response or a hollow nothingness. I would love to have a sea of voices saying "yes" to my words. But whether I hear them or someone else hears them a long time from now doesn't matter. I cannot know what my words do. All I know is I must speak them - I must write them. From then on, their lives are their own.

Pregnancy Annoyances: Inconsideration

This morning I decided I would go for a walk on the beach. It was cool enough for me to not melt, and my midwives like it when I'm active (good for the baby, placenta size, and preventing anemia - or so they tell me).

So I drove over to the Alameda shore. I parked. I crossed the street without incident. I happily enjoyed the fact that few people were on the sand just yet. The beach itself was short this morning as the tide was in, but while I noted it, it caused me little concern. The water was smooth - perfect for the rowers who were already over halfway through their morning practice at least 100 yards out.

As I walked along the water edge of the public shoreline, I came upon a group of people. There were probably at least 40. They were setting up blankets and towels that covered the entire width of the sand (up to the wooden fencing that protects the plants between the shore and the sidewalk). I noticed they had some tiki torches stuck in the ground and quickly looked around the crowd. Was it a wedding? Some kind of service? No one was dressed up. There were no photographers that I could see. Maybe it was some kind of camp thing - there did seem to be some kids.

Without much concern, I continued walking. When I reached my limit, I stopped, looked out at the water and saved the sight. The haze was just right - just enough to obscure the wretchedness of over-habitation on the peninsula across the bay. It reminded me of a morning I experienced at Lake Ohrid in Macedonia. Satisfied with the sight, I turned and walked back, rewinding the people I had passed and subtle landmarks that shorelines have...all the way until I reached that crowd.

I saw there were people trying to dance in the water. They weren't synchronized. They were making many mistakes. They were talking as they danced. There were several of these groups. It must be a camp. The people on the shore were half watching half talking. I was about 10 feet away from one of the tiki torches before a man came up to me.

"We're having a spiritual ceremony."
"Okay."
"We're asking people to walk around." I glanced at the crowd and looked back at this man in confused irritation. The attendees were all the way up to the fence.
"Where?"
"Along the perimeter."
"Right."

I wanted to shout at him, "Are you effing kidding me?! There's no place to walk?! You tell me this here, when I'm right at the edge, instead of having a sign or something?! You let your congregation take up the entire width of the public beach and you're asking us to walk around the perimeter?! In the sharp dune grass?!" I didn't think I needed to say, "Oh and by the way, I'm pregnant."

This is what I would have said if I was feeling more saucy, but I was tired by my walk and so I grumbled grouchily up the inclined sand to the very edge and tried to pick my way along the fence, which soon became impossible because of the blankets and towels people had laid along the fence.

Eventually a dude bro saw me and called, "Oh, you don't have to walk just there. It's nice of you, but just come here." He pointed to an open bit of sand that struck right through the crowd. Needless to say, I never would have done that at a church service, so why would I do that to whatever spiritual gathering this other group was having?

I was so upset I started crying on the beach as I cleared the crowd. If they wanted people to walk around them, there should have been some kind of signage. There should have been a clear space around the group. The congregation themselves shouldn't have packed their towels and blankets ALL the way up against the fence.

The moral of this story? People are inconsiderate. Or maybe thoughtless. Or both.

This was just the latest example in a series of inconsiderate incidences. Any time someone disobeys traffic laws, thinking rules don't apply to them, causing other people to take evasive action (or even when that doesn't happen!), it is at the very least inconsiderate. Any time someone forgets to flush the toilet, or put something back where they found it, it is inconsiderate. Any time someone messes up or destroys something just for the sake of it, it is inconsiderate.

This lack of consideration, of thoughtfulness, disturbs me. I called it an annoyance, and specifically a pregnant one, but it is neither of those things. It is all the time disrespectful, discourteous, and uncivil.

And perhaps I'm being old-fashioned when I say these words. Perhaps I'm being hormonal. But the fact of the matter is, I do not trust our society or many parents to teach these behaviors to children. And let's be clear - the next person who behaves in such an inconsiderate way, is going to be schooled. Severely.

You've been warned. :-)

Have a nice day!

You Know You're a Mom When...

I don't know when it happened, but suddenly I realized I was doing mom things.

You know what I mean: coupons, repurposing, thinking about utility over beauty (whhhaaaaa?!?!).

So then I started thinking about all these new things I was doing and decided to make a little list for you. These are in no particular order - not a count down - just things to let you know you have crossed forever into the frighteningly strange realm of parenthood.

So here we go. You know you're a mom when

1. You clip coupons. Seriously. For everything. No item is safe from clipped coupon savings!
2. You live for discount shopping - this may have been something you practiced before, but you have taken it to new heights (4 onsies for 9 bucks?! Alright!!).
3. Safety comes first! Every nook and cranny comes under scrutiny. Every person's behavior is evaluated. Nothing is assumed to be alright. I feel like I might be practicing to enter the secret service!
4. Clean and tidy rules the day. Again, this is something you may have practiced before, but now it is more important to maintain a tight ship (see safety). Food can't enter the danger zone and be eaten. There is no 5 second rule. That toilet is disinfected like clockwork!
5. Long term planning for the win! Yeah, yeah. I know. You did this before. But now you have another person to think about. You have to structure trips around town to account for snacks, naps, and potty breaks. Meal plans are your (and your budget's) savior! Living in the right neighborhood with the right school in 5 years IS your 5 year plan.
6. You fantasize about making *stuff* with kiddo. It doesn't matter this won't happen until they're at least 2. It's there in the back of your mind.
7. Your favorite blogs are all written by moms for moms, giving you sneak peaks of things to come and tips on how to deal with the horrifying present (whatever that might involve).
8. All the new friends you're making have long term committed partners and have kids or are pregnant. The riff between you and single people seems too big to cross (because let's face it - you really just want to talk about your kids or your pregnancy with someone who understands, and who can set up play dates).
9. Multi-tasking is where you live - like permanently.  Time management is crucial to you. You plan your day as much as possible and when something goes awry (which it always does) you regroup and figure out a way to get shit done anyway all while *someone* is taking a nap.
10. You feel weird on a day when you get nothing done (i.e. cleaning, working, organizing, errands etc) because well, maybe you missed something. But what was it...

This is my new existence. It is odd to realize my new chapter in life has already shifted my thinking and every aspect of being. Of course, once kiddo arrives, it will go turbo-charged (I know this is true by the way s/he is already - why is that kid stretching out against my womb?! Yoga later please!).

Still, I can't wait.

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!

Attack of the Stupids: Applied Anti-intellectualism in Vaccines

GAAAAAHHHH! Why? Just, why?!

I did a stupid thing. I read comments on the internet.

Anyone with a brain knows not to do such things. Comments are laden with trolls and people who neglect to research a topic before forming opinions. Often they're riddled with failed sentences, atrocious spelling, and grammar that could give Ebonics a run for its money.

Maybe it's my morbid curiosity. I want to see how readers of a given article will react to information. Sometimes I am amused by the idiocy on display. On occasion, I can smile ruefully and shake my head. Today however, I was frankly disturbed.

As part of my writing, I regularly comment on the stupid things/mistakes made in our society. Frankly, there are quite a few. In a country where citizens feel entitled to choose whatever they want, regardless of the consequences, one encounters quite a bit of stupid emotionally based decision-making.

In this case, I was reading an article put out by the Scientific American about vaccines.  The article outlined the dangers of not vaccinating children and the problems surrounding the whole debate - namely parents being misinformed and therefore deciding to not vaccinate.

Despite the mountains of supposed evidence (I'll be honest, I didn't read it though I did glance and citations from several other non-profit immunization websites) supporting vaccination, parents seem to feel it is unnecessary and incredibly dangerous.

Judging by the comment section, this appears to be accurate.

I remember having chicken pox. It sucked. Hell, I had a bad case of mono. That was 20 times worse. If I could keep my kid from getting that, I would. In a heartbeat.

I say these things even after having a flu-like reaction to a flu shot (once) and joint pain after receiving the lime disease vaccine when it was brand new. I've been around the world and seen first hand some of the results of disease. I've also been spared from said diseases because I got immunizations before going (thank you very much, but I'd like to avoid typhoid and rabies!).

It also helps that I am *not* a medical doctor. I have no training. I do, however, have training in media literacy. So when I come in contact with a website or article I know if it's bunk or quality information. Personally, I will take the advice of third party research and countless doctors (and global statistics!) before listening to my uneducated relative's advice (no offense to my family, but none of them are medical doctors).

I have to believe this rampant refusal to listen to experts is the result of one of America's horrifying tendencies - anti-intellectualism. Don't get me wrong, everyone doesn't need to go to college (but medical doctors do!). Everyone doesn't have to be a deeply trained expert. I freely admit this. Yet so many Americans refuse to listen to experts. We return to this do-it-yourself, pull-up-your-bootstraps mentality that while installing a door may be annoying but isn't problematic. However when it is involved in healthcare, it is quite a different matter.

While I am nothing like a medical doctor, I do have a graduate degree. Several interviews with prospective employers have resulted in comments about my education. I've been called a "high-flyer" and "fancy." Keep in mind - this was from *prospective employers.*  Seriously? Are you retarded? High-flyer? Really?!

I know my education sounds fancy and completely ivory tower (Peace and Conflict Studies BA and Global and International Studies MA), but I'm quite able to talk about pop music, super hero movies, and the annoying drivers with whom I share the road. I may use more than one syllable regularly, but I don't think I'm inaccessible.

I can deal with people thinking I'm *fancy* and ignoring what I say (even if it may annoy me). But I can't understand why you would ignore mountains of evidence supported by your doctor. Yes, doctors do make mistakes. Yes, we should ask questions. I fully believe that (and know it). But I'm much more inclined to worry about medications that aren't as strictly regulated as vaccines are (I'm thinking in particular of Yasmin which did a number on many women resulting in a series of lawsuits).

What I would ask is this: educate yourself. Read reliable sources of information about this - not forums or comments. Read peer reviewed articles and look at third party non-partisan websites presenting verifiable facts. Examine your own opinions and why/how you came to them. Were they based on hearsay? Did you make emotional decisions based on logical fallacies? If you still think you shouldn't vaccinate and your kid contracts measles which results in an inflamed brain, I can't say it will be much of a loss. They didn't start with much in the first place, at least if we look at genetics (or environment!).

Ha! Just kidding... Ahem.

Maybe we should investigate the contagiousness of stupidity... Oh wait, that's proven.

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Why Twitter Bugs (Along With All Social Media)

This is a post I have longed to write for some time. It is only now after an interesting rejection letter from an agent that I was finally motivated to do it (it feels like I'm trying to be unpopular these days...sigh...but work with me).

The rejection was fine. I'm not mad about that at all. I even understand this agent's reasoning. He didn't want to work with a new writer who didn't already have a huge following in social media. He didn't want to gamble. I get that.

Of course, the whole reason why I'm after an agent is because I'm terrible at this whole sell-yourself-thing. I want someone else to do it for me so I can focus on the thing I *am* good at - you know, *writing.*

So once again, I thought about all the reasons I struggle with social media and why I have come to my current decisions about it and independent publishing. Let me give you the run-down:

1. Most of the stuff on social media is just self-aggrandizing advertising. It is time consuming and frustrating to sort through all the muck to find the few interesting articles and comments. This leads me to look at websites like Twitter and Facebook *only * when I am extremely bored. Needless to say, this means rarely. I'd much rather read random journal articles than sort through fluff. When I have something witty to say or someone has said something interesting only seconds before, then I will post. Otherwise...forget it.

2. I have never been much for technology. As I have explained in previous posts, I can break toaster ovens. My phone regularly does things that my technopath hubby cannot explain. Spending hours on websites that yield little psychic reward (see above) when I might crash my phone or computer just to do so (and therefore turn into a female Hulk which can be ugly) is not my idea of a good time. Believe me when I say, *everyone* loses.

3. I am sort of manic. Or artsy. Or flaky. I have trouble consistently posting on anything and everything. I get feeling anxious and so I will avoid doing it - even on phones (ironic considering I've worked in many call centers). I will purposely avoid my computer in order to avoid corresponding with people. I get anxious when I've let something go for a while...which leads me to avoidance...which leads me to feeling guilty...which leads to more avoidance (Note: I'm working on this cluster, but it's an uphill battle. Thus the manic modes when I post ridiculous amounts...).

4. I like real life but I am incredibly obsessive - stupidly obsessive. When I get swallowed by something, it is complete. Because I know this about myself, I try to avoid (ha!) letting it happen whenever I can. If I got really involved in social media, I would (and have before) retreat(ed) from real life. I'm reclusive enough as it is. I need to get out of the house and soak up vitamin D, not worry about how many people have viewed my blog or followed my fan page.

All this is to say, I am not the cyber wonder child many agents dream of having. I know it might help. It might make me more attractive. Obviously those agents aren't a good match for me. I'm looking for someone who is willing to take a chance on a new writer who has plans and substantial portions of over 8 books in the works (I know...I know. They *will* be finished. Never fear! Artsy, remember?). I'm looking for someone who can see through my little mistakes and appreciate my obscure references and research.

Because frankly, I want to write...not waste my time wading through penny stock recommendations and people advertising themselves without saying anything else of substance. It's just not my bag. If it's yours, enjoy. I'll stick to my green silk Tibetan drawstring with my writing and my research.

There. I feel so much better now.

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Your Choices Are My Business - On Bad Parenting

Recently I've come across a variety of sources and individuals discussing the relationship with society and an individual's choices. In particular I'm interested in parents' choices.Working in a school gives me a front row seat to parental choices and the long term impact they can have.

Needless to say, I've become concerned - even bothered.

It *really* bothers me when someone says, "How I raise my kid is none of your business!" Actually, it is *very* much my business - and I'm not just speaking as an educator but as a human being and a concerned citizen.

All choices made impact others. If you choose to formula feed because you want to keep your breasts perky and so sabotage your child's well-being, that affects me. It affects me in medical bills and services spent, the relationship or less bonding that occurs between you and your child, as well as the impact formula companies have on society and the environment.

If you choose to hit your child that affects me. Abused children are more likely to become abusers. Even if they don't abuse, they will have issues that need to be resolved with therapy and counseling.

If you choose to give your child soda, chips, and Twinkies instead of fruits, vegetables, and nuts it affects me. Not only will your child not get the nutrients they need and therefore have more illness, but they are more likely to be overweight or obese. This increases their chances of all manner of illnesses which my tax dollars will likely be spent on. Perhaps doctors' time will be taken away from unpreventable illnesses.

The list goes on.
And I can think of numerous examples.

So no, everyone's choices impact everyone. Because your choices impact me, yes, they are my business. I want some control over these situations. I want laws and educators and interventions. In the long run, I expect prevention to be a better course than damage control for someone else's poor choices.

I realize not only does this make me conservative (in the traditional sense of the word) and brand me as a bit of a socialist, but I also come out quite unpopular. Yet again I'm preaching against that core American value of unadulterated freedom and individualism - this untouchable sacred law that regularly causes harm...

But there's a reason.

For those of you familiar with my family, you know my brother is adopted through fostercare. He is an awesome guy and I love him. And he was lucky. A series of choices led him to a loving family who was prepared and able to support and provide for him. But many children who go into fostercare are not so blessed. Poor choices on the part of parents lead the rest of society to pick up the tab. The result is there are more foster kids than homes to take them. Many of these children have emotional and physiological issues that require extensive treatment and care.

This has several causes. Part of it is purely cyclical. Their parents made poor choices and their grandparents made poor choices and so on. Poor choices were a learned and repeated behavior.

Another factor is a lack of education. I know some of us (the Hermione Grangers out there) do their research, but most do not. Classes are not required. Manuals don't come with babies. Counseling and support groups are not guaranteed - which leads to our last problem; support isn't always accessible or intuitive.

Because our society is so individualistic, parents are often left to fend for themselves. Without help during the course of typical parental stresses, small problems can become big issues leading to choices with disasterous consequences (hitting v. talking, or junk food v. balanced meals). The combination of these factors encourages poor, misinformed choices.

And we all have to pay for them.

That said, the next time you prod someone about nutrition or discipline and they bite your head off, they're probably feeling guilty or sleep deprived. I'd try to be a little kind, even while being firm in your questioning their choice.

Because deep down we know the truth - our choices are not just our own. And that truth is painful when we know we're making bad choices for worse reasons.

I don't know about you, but that makes me want to research and think carefully before taking any action.

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