Tag: Community

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finding space to be me

I’ve been thinking a lot about community and what that looks like for someone like me who seldom feels at home in groups of people.  For a time in my life, I found community in various fandoms, but as time progressed, they became contentious and clicky and I backed away.

For a time, I found community in the Pagan community, which here in the SF Bay area is vibrant and diverse and can be amazing.  However, here too there is division and in-fighting, and I’ve backed off in recent years.

My current attempt at giving to community is within the LGBTQA+ space, but I find myself limiting my interaction to what I do for the Pride organization, and I don’t go out seeking friends within the community, and I don’t really engage in any events or discussions.  I guess, in a way, I give community, but don’t receive it in return.

Even among fellow authors and editors, I tend to feel unseen, unnoticed, and markedly of different opinions than many, so I feel as though here too is a community that I belong in, but do not belong to.

Mostly, I’m okay with that.  I’m better on my own in most things.  I have a number of very good friends that I can spend time with and not feel as though I’ve burned my candle down to nothing, not feel as though I give and give and get nothing in return.

Having just spent two weeks with one such friend, my socialization/support needs are well met and community feels more like work than it is worth.  I have a cautious toe dipping back into fandom having found a Star Wars fandom group for geeky women and I see the enthusiasm and love others have, and I miss sharing that.  I’ve kept my geeky joy for just my friends who share it for a long time.

Not sure yet how deep I’ll wade into it again, for now it’s mostly toe dipping, but my recent trip to Disney and Galaxy’s Edge has reignited my love of all things Star Wars, so we’ll see.

In the meantime, I have a day job to get busy on, and so much to do!  I wish you good coffee and random acts of kindness today, Readers!

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common courtesy

When you ride the same train every day, stand in the same spot to wait for it, you tend to get to know the people who also ride the same train every day and stand in the same line to wait for it.  You also get to know the peculiarities of that station’s particular etiquette.

For example, the spot where I wait, we line up along the yellow line, rather than from the yellow line back, because there is only a small area behind us before the bench and the wall, and when the line gets long, it can block people from getting past us down the platform.

Sometimes, we get someone who either isn’t really paying attention, or is accustomed to other ways of standing in line.  Normally, we give them a few minutes to realize where the line is, and if they don’t seem to get it, we kindly tell them where the line is.

Normally, they say something like “Oh, sorry,” and they move. Sometimes they ignore us.  This morning, there was a man who was standing behind those of us already in line.  As per our usual, one of our regulars smiled and let him know where the line ended.

His response was borderline hostile.  He said, “Who cares?” and took a step closer.  So we tried to explain the reason the line was formed to the right, and he continued to be aggressive.  It didn’t matter what we said, all efforts to be polite and friendly led to him getting angrier and angrier until he finally cussed at us and told us we “better just drop it,” in a threatening tone.

When the train finally came, he parked himself in an accessible seat, put on a pair of sunglasses and ignored anyone and everyone.   The whole encounter left me feeling crappy, so I stopped into Starbucks and picked up four coffees (because I couldn’t carry more than that), then handed the cashier my Starbucks card and said to use it for the next however many people the balance would cover.

On my way out I loaded up with creamers and sugars and went on about my way to work, gifting coffees to the first four homeless people I came across.  By the time I got to the office, I felt so much better. I hope someone buys that bitter man a coffee today, or otherwise gives him a kindness that will improve his outlook.  Six AM is far too early to be that angry already.

Happy Wednesday, Readers!  Kindness Matters!  Pass it on!

Photo by Charles Forerunner on Unsplash

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summer comes

I’ve always dreamed of getting to watch the sunrise over Stonehenge on the Solstice.  While I’ve seen Stonehenge, it was closer to the Winter Solstice than the summer version.

I’ll admit, summer isn’t my favorite season.  The heat and the sun don’t treat my worn out old body kindly.  But I do enjoy the sunsets and sunrises, when I get the chance to see them.

It’s also the time of the year when I’m the busiest.  This weekend is Pride, and I’m excited for that, especially because I’m bringing my niece to her first Pride.  I don’t mind the busy, but by the time this weekend is over, I’m going to need a really long summer nap!

When I get home tonight I will have a small, impromptu little ritual to honor the turning of the wheel and invite the burning light of summer to clean out the cobwebs, burn out the dark that has collected in the corners (and everywhere else) and bring forth the growing things that have lain quiet in the earth.

I may even try to get out and find a spot of sun this afternoon, though looking at the gloomy skies outside my SF office window, I’m not sure that there will be any to find!

Blessed Solstice, Readers.  May it bring forth a bounty in your life!

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international womens day

So, today is International Women’s Day and it makes me wonder what exactly that means and what is the best way to celebrate it?

I mean, some of the stuff I’ve read this morning sounds good: we’ve got women walkouts in Spain, shutting down major commute options, we’ve got protests and such all over as women demand equal pay for equal work and other such things.

I know I’ve been pretty lucky as a woman.  I haven’t dealt with sexual harassment or discrimination, I have always received pay equal to the job I do.  For a long time, that blinded me to the fact that these things happen to other women.  But, here we are in 2018 and we’re still fighting something that should have been defeated years ago.

Can you imagine if women just stepped out, really stepped out…all over the world, for one day, not a single woman did anything to benefit anyone but themselves.  Every woman: every government official, every female on any board, every C-level executive, every manager, supervisor, every garment worker, every transportation worker, every teacher, nurse, doctor, lawyer, judge, every line cook, chef, waitress, receptionist, administrator, every janitor, cashier, delivery person, every wife, mother, sister, daughter…can you picture that?

Look around you for a minute, and imagine your world without women.  We are everywhere. We work hard.  We play hard.  We rise to the occasion.

So ladies, let us rise.  Let us lift up our sisters instead of tearing them down.  Let us fight with them, not against them. Let us rejoice in their victories.  Let us demand, with one voice, that we receive our due: equal pay, equal protections, equal education, adequate healthcare by doctors who will not dismiss our pain because we are women, equal protection from crime and equal investigative power when we are victims of crimes, equal representation.

Power is not give, ladies.  Power is taken.

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working writer at work

Some days it’s hard to be a writer who has a day job.  Inevitably, my muse gets chatty while I’m trying to write some technical instructions or what have you.  Today is one of those days.  The main character in my blood witch story has been really chatty the last few days and if I could be home writing, I would be.

Instead, I’m in the office. You know, the daily struggle to pay the bills.

Speaking of paying the bills, do you know about www.patreon.com? It’s a nifty little place for people who love art (music, words, visual arts, more) to help the artists they like.  You pledge to pay a certain amount per month and in return, you get various goodies that can stem from behind the scenes looks at work in progress, blog posts for patrons only, and up to actual physical books.

As I build audience, I’ll add in some fun video clips (maybe me reading snippets or short stories), and other fun things.  If you’re interested in supporting me, my patreon can be found here: www.patreon.com/natalie.  Special access begins at only $3/month, though once a month I will also give the $1/month folks a sneak peek.

And, with that plea for your support, I must go back to my cup of coffee and the day job.  Those bills need paying!

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a bridge of shadow

Recently we finished up our second Creativia anthology.  Like the first one, all of the writers started with the same prompt, and had about four months to write.  This time around, their prompt was “The letter/email/missive/message was ominous, if a little vague in the details. “Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone.””

The finished product is an unusual mix of genres and subjects.  Each writer really set off on their own path from the prompt.  As usual, they are give a fair bit of leeway in interpreting the prompt as long as they kept the heart of it the same.

As a result, you’ll find colonial America, Victorian London and fantasy worlds alike.  There are love stories, cautionary tales, and fantasy.  You will find paranormal creatures like wendigos, vampires, Shades, sentient shadows or talking animals.

The six authors represented here took our prompt and each of them headed off in a different direction, and that right there is half the reason I do it!  I love the way creative minds work, and it is a thrill getting to edit (and contribute) to this collection.

Now available on Amazon in kindle and paperback formats, get your copy of A Bridge of Shadow today!

bridgeofshadow-72dpi

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people on a train

Every weekday morning, I get up, get dressed, and head to the office.  My commute, like so many others, consists of a half mile walk, a 40 minute train ride and a half mile walk.  Door to door, it’s about an hour or so.

When you get to the station, stand in the same spot, and ride the same train every day, you see a lot of people doing the exact same thing. I tend to take one of the limited trains being used to ease the overcrowding problem on BART, particularly on the Pittsburg/Bay Point lines.  Most mornings, I see the same crew of folks while waiting.  A few get on the SFO train just before mine, but most get on the same train.

I only know first names, if I know names at all, but we’re friendly and we worry about the ones who don’t show up.  We keep track of vacations and family drama.  We share pictures of our pets and kids and grandkids.

On the train, it’s a little different.  I see a lot of faces that I know, but I know nothing about them.  We get on, go to our preferred seats, plug in our headphones and zone out for the ride.  This is good people watching time.  Of course, I give them names…because I’m a writer.

There’s Bible Guy.  He gets on a few stops after mine, stands across from my usual seat and opens his Bible.  He spends most of his time reading.  He never speaks.  He never makes eye contact.  He gets off at West Oakland.  I noticed this morning that he wasn’t on the train.  I hope he has some good holiday plans, and is off on vacation.

There’s Cranky Lady.  I don’t know that she’s actually cranky, but she always has this look like she’s pissed off at you before you can say a word.  She doesn’t respond to a smile, to a hello, to letting her go before you.  She just glares.  I haven’t seen her in a while.  I hope she’s doing alright.

There’s TV Movie Thug Guy.  He is the stereotypical white thug guy.  You’ve seen him in any movie or television show that has a mob element or dock workers, etc.  He even dresses the part. He nods his head every morning when I make eye contact.

There’s the Working Mom and her friend, Power Suit Lady.  They always sit together and they talk non-stop the entire 40 minutes.  They aren’t usually close enough for me to hear over the noise of the train. My favorite conversations though are when one or the other makes the other one laugh.  Working Mom has the BEST laugh!  Today was one of those days.  It’s a great way to start a work day.

Oh, yes!  There’s Makeup Girl too!  Haven’t seen her at all this week.  She gets on one stop after me, and spends the ENTIRE train ride applying makeup.  At least a solid half hour of putting on makeup, and when she’s done, I see no difference from when she sat down without makeup, other than her mascara.

Of course, this time of year, you get the travelers too…the ones who have never ridden BART before, and can’t seem to tell from looking which way the lines go, or who think they can just jump the line…the ones with more luggage than hands, the ones with their entire life crammed into a duffle bag nearly as tall as they are, etc.

Riding a train during commute hours is like a window into the lives of thousands of characters.  And as much as it can stress me out, if I can keep myself out of a panic attack, I can tell myself stories about them to entertain myself.

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yuletide musings

It is still pretty early here in California.  I’m in the office of my day job, a job I thoroughly enjoy.  The sun is casting golden beams of light in through the blinds and it’s hard to imagine that it is actually December. The mornings have been cold, but by noon most days it’s back to t-shirt weather.

The holiday season is always a bit crazy, and being a Pagan in a psuedo-Judeo/Christian society can be strange.  Here in America, everyone seems to just default to Christmas.  If you live here you MUST celebrate Christmas, and if you don’t, you tip their world over.

It isn’t even the really devout Christians that get the most weirded out all the time.  I mean, sure, they’re the ones who started this idea that there is some sort of war on Christmas, but I’ve gotten the most flack when I talk about how Christmas to me is a secular, family holiday, much like Thanksgiving, only with presents.

I don’t really decorate for Yule or Christmas.  I live alone and it seems silly to me to spend a weekend putting stuff up, then take a weekend pulling it down and storing it when I’m the only one to see it.

That isn’t to say that all the years of my life as a Christian, and all of those Christmas traditions have gone away.  One of my favorite memories of those times was Christmas Eve candlelight service.  All those candles, lit one by one, passing the flame…the sanctuary lit up like daylight, only the light was softer and warmer than the sun ever seemed to be in winter.  We lit candles at home on Christmas Eve long after we stopped attending that church.

Today I light candles a little earlier.  On Yule I like to light my entire living room with candlelight.  It is said that candles at Yule are what we call sympathetic magic…we are reminding the sun that we need it to return, and welcoming him as he is born anew.

There is a feeling of hope that permeates these winter holidays, whether you celebrate the birth of the sun or the birth of your God, whether you ignore all that and give gifts of love to your family…there is hope.

That is something that can be hard to see.  It’s there, if you look.  Just light a candle.  Even one candle can dispel the darkness for a time.

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giving thanks

I realized this morning that it’s been a while since I posted here.  The reasons are many: the continued issue with the pinched nerve, getting back to work full time, taking on an editing job, plus working on a new anthology, plus two novels currently in progress…all of which means I haven’t really had much free time to do promo work or write up blog posts!

When you’re surrounded by what feels like insurmountable debt, it’s hard to find your way to being thankful about much.  It is insane that a grown woman with a good job and decent insurance should be this deep in medical debt, but it is what it is.  You either suck it up and get the work done, or you continue to suffer. (I have a fundraiser set up to help me cope with the unexpected medical bills, if you’re interested: You Caring Fundraiser)

But, even with all of the doctor visits and the pain and the physical therapy, and the bills and prescriptions that come with that, I am blessed.  I’m living a dream I have had since I was pretty young, I’m a published author!  And I get to make a living working with words.

Not everyone gets to live their dream.  You can’t help but be thankful when you see a lifetime of learning and crafting become an actual reality.  My first book, Forever, took me years to bring to fruition and I learned a lot along the way.

Currently I am working on two different novels, the ending of the Shades and Shadows series and a new one that jumped up out of the abyss that is my mind a few weeks ago and took up residence in the front part of my Brain where it will not leave me alone.

And do you remember the anthology we published a few months ago? Once Upon a Broken Dream was the first in a series of anthologies from Creativia Publishing.  Each anthology begins with a prompt and writers are invited to submit stories using that prompt.  Well, the next one should be ready in December, so keep your eyes open.

So yeah, I’m pretty blessed and living a life that’s pretty amazing.  Even if I’m struggling in some areas.  I hope you can say the same.

Oh, yeah, and if you want autographed copies of my books this holiday season, hit up my facebook page or email me at natalie@nataliejcase.com.

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not all inspiration is inspirational

Image by PETEWILL VIA GETTY IMAGES

Today, as  I was walking to work I was noticing that there were a larger number of homeless than I am accustomed to seeing.  All of the “regulars” were around, and I checked in with those I’ve been friendly with, at least by eye contact, as I generally do.

When I heard yelling across the street, I looked up, slowed my steps.  I wasn’t alone in wanting to know what was causing the ruckus, several other pedestrians slowed their steps or stopped, necks craning to try to see around the large truck blocking the view.

The truck had a sign on the side that said something like “The Clean Team” and there were about ten men (I couldn’t tell their ages from my vantage point) who seemed to be trying to roust a homeless couple who had been sleeping in a store doorway.  The woman was very upset and yelling.  The men made fun of her, and she got angrier (obviously).

I watched for a long few minutes, phone in hand, prepared to call for help if things got physical, which seemed likely when the male half of the couple stood up and tried to intervene.  I couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed as if he calmed her enough and convinced her that they should just gather their belongings and move on.

A few blocks up the road, one of the regular street cleaner guys was using a far gentler approach with one of the regulars that I’ve offered coffee and breakfast to on occasion.  Down every side street and alley, in doorways and on the curbs, homeless people were being forced to get up and move, as if there was anywhere else for them to go.

It made me wonder when we turned our street cleaning people away from picking up trash and cleaning graffiti and started tasking them with homeless duty…when did we decide that our homeless were little more than garbage, with no more value than a cigarette butt or empty food container?

I felt a little hopeless as I climbed the hill toward my office, a little stifled under the privilege of who I am.

As with all things, the whole scene is already percolating in the back of my brain, trying to decide where it fits in current writing projects, or how it might inspire a new one to come.

Until then, remember that Forever is only 99 cents on Kindle, through July 16th.