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hello darkness, my old friend

I’m in the odd place of knowing I need to do something to address my current malaise and depression, and actually being able to take the next step. That isn’t entirely true. I have taken a step, by talking to my doctor about it.

While that raises my mood a micron, all that does is give me a better vision of the morass of darkness I seem to be tethered to. The way forward is murky at best.

I had to dye my hair yesterday because the green was really faded and my roots really dark, but in doing so I had to bid farewell to the green, at least for now. I’ve been losing a lot of hair in the last few months, and while it isn’t due to damage of the hair, it didn’t seem like the routine of bleach and color was the best plan of action, particularly because I can’t go to my hair stylist yet. So my reflection this morning is a bit startling with a purply-red in place of the green.

I’m not sure what to do with myself this morning. A part of me really wants to write, but my muse is on walkabout, so I’m not sure I can manage to wrangle words without her. Maybe another deep cleaning day will improve my outlook. This office certainly needs a once over (maybe a two or three over).

For now though, on this early Saturday morning, I’m enjoying a nice cup of Death Wish and a cuddle with my kitty. How’s your Saturday, reader?

Cover Photo by Carolina Pimenta on Unsplash

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in the hot seat

Here in the San Francisco Bay Area we are expecting a heatwave this weekend. It’s the first of the summer, but it’s expected to be intense. Here in the town where I live, we’re expecting degrees of 108, but it’s been exceeding the expected high temperatures every day this week.

What is making it worse is the humidity. It’s got my arthritic writer’s hands all cranky.

I am sitting under the air conditioning with a fan blowing on me trying to keep cool. It was already over 81 in the living room at 8am. Even my heat-loving kitty is laying under the AC.

It makes it hard to focus on work, but I have lots to do. I seem to have reached the end of my coffee, and the document I’ve been waiting on has rendered, so I guess it’s time to get back to it.

Happy Friday, Readers! Stay safe, stay cool.

Cover Photo by Luis Graterol on Unsplash

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pick a peck of pickled peppers

There are times when even an introvert agoraphobe needs some human connection, even if that comes in the form of socially distanced socializing. Yesterday I went up to my mother’s house for some of that human connection, and for an exchange of money for a monitor and home baked bread for some peppers harvested from their garden.

We spent some time not touching or hugging, while I crocheted and my mother and brother and I watched some news, talking about the happenings around us and just generally remembering what it is like to have people around.

I should have been in Austin this weekend for our annual shenanigans with Steve Carlson, but it has been pushed out to October due to the plague currently ravaging our country.

But, having gone out to see Mom and David and the nieces, I came home with a new tv/monitor to replace the one I have on my desk that is dying a slow death and I have a bag filled with poblano, dragon and jalapeno peppers that I need to decide what to do with. I’m actually contemplating an attempt at pickling some jalapenos. I know the dragons will kick up my chinese dumplings a fair amount, and I may try my hand at drying some of them because I have more than I can use before they’ll go soft.

Now that I have that new monitor, I’ll be spending time in this office today, clearing the desk, pulling the tower out to clean and make set up easier and getting everything set back up. But first, I’m spending some time writing (I’m currently working on a Sci-fi short story) and drinking some Death Wish Coffee.

I hope you and yours are safe, Readers, and I wish you a pleasant Sunday!

Cover Photo by Nick Artman on Unsplash

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a flower for your friday

This week has been an odd one. Yesterday did not feel like Thursday, in fact at one point I thought it was only Tuesday. On the other hand, I’ve gotten a lot done, and this morning I was half convinced it was Saturday when my alarm went off.

Here in California we are locked back down due to the surge of covid-19. For the most part it doesn’t bother me. I had hoped the virus would be controlled enough to go to Austin at the beginning of August and Disneyland at the end of August, but both of those things are not happening.

And boy-howdy do I need some attention to my hair! I had an appointment next week with my amazing hair person, but salons are among the places shut down again.

Work has been busy, and will continue to be for the next little while. But, I’m learning Markdown as I work along, which is a cool thing. You know how much I love learning new things!

Speaking of work, I should get on that. (Title and image have nothing to do with this post). My coffee’s getting cold. Happy Friday, Readers!

Cover Photo by Jordan Newsom on Unsplash

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slow Sunday mornings

Is there anything better than a slow Sunday morning with coffee and cuddly kitties? I even managed a little bit of a sleep in. I mean, I was awake at 5:30am, but managed to hush my mouthy cat and go back to sleep for almost two hours. It was lovely.

So much of life right now isn’t lovely, so it feels like these little things matter all the more, you know?

It seems like everyday the news gets worse and worse, and there’s so little we can do about it. Here in the US we never completely broke the back of the first wave of this corona virus, and now we’re getting slammed by the second, or maybe just the revenge of the first.

The more we discover about how this virus attacks the human body, the scarier it seems.

I know I’ll breathe easier once I get paid on the 1st. I’ve been without money for so long, and it just presses in on all the rest of the anxiety. It’s significantly less money than I was making before, but I will never have a daily commute, so that’s a plus. I imagine that once the current economic environment improves, so will my pay.

So many people have it harder that I feel bad for feeling bad for myself, which I know is ridiculous. This isn’t a competition, and none of us need apologize for how we are feeling.

How are you doing, Readers?

Cover Photo by Mike Kenneally on Unsplash

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to all the dads out there

A lot of people have complicated relationships with their fathers, and I think current political and health matters probably don’t really help in that arena.

I have LGBTQ+ friends whose fathers have thrown them away, disowned them, told them to never come back. I have friends who had abusive fathers, drug addict fathers, fathers who were too young and too afraid to stick around. I know people who never knew their fathers, and never had a male father figure step into their lives to fill the void.

But I also have friends who had amazing dads or stepdads or granddads who did what dads are supposed to do, who loved those kids and helped them grow up in a world designed to tear them down. Those who taught them how to ride a bike, bait a hook, stand up for themselves and for others. Those that knew the world outside of childhood could be could and cruel, and helped prepare them to thrive anyway.

I was fortunate, even if my relationship with my father has occasionally been rocky due to so many reasons that are rooted in who I was in my puberty years (think far-right, evangelical Christian) and who he was (as in, not that), that my dad was there for me. We don’t always agree, even now that I’ve gone the far right of him to the far left of him, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loves me for who I am.

My Dad and Me

And I had a pretty cool stepfather too. Bob and I didn’t always see eye to eye either, but he was always there to lend a hand when I needed it and he loved us even if he never said those words.

I hope that all of you who fill those roles, whether you’re blood or not, take a little time today to give yourself a moment to know you are awesome. And if you are someone looking for how to help the next generation, whether you are cis-male, trans-male or nonbinary, consider finding that one on one relationship with a kid who needs it, and yeah, I don’t just mean the under 18 crowd. There are tons of folks in their 20s who could really use a father figure to help them find their way into what being an adult really means.

Even if you’re one of those guys who never really had an old man, maybe especially if you’re one of those guys, be the father-figure you wanted in your life.

So Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads and Dad-adjacent folks out there. Being that it is Sunday and my job #2 has no work for me to be doing today, I get to write for a while before I get on with the housework that needs doing. I’m off to do that…and drink more coffee.

Cover Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

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it’s okay…to not be okay

Earlier this week, I was feeling great about the possibilities of getting a job offer today.  Late yesterday I got an email saying that, like the last three jobs I felt sure I was going to get, the job has gone on hold while the company re-evaluates what they genuinely need.

To some degree, I’m used to it, as a technical writer. But, I have to admit that this time, it’s hitting me pretty hard.  The job boards have the same ten jobs or so that they’ve had for a month.  Everyone is re-evaluating.  Jobs are getting really scarce.

Earlier this week I was feeling pretty optimistic and I was happy to reach out to my extroverted friends, and read poetry on Facebook and help people get through this.  Today I’m feeling fairly hopeless.  Today I’m afraid.

Logically, I know these things come in waves, but I also know that we haven’t seen the worst of this.

I need to pay bills.  I need to pay rent.  But at the same time, I’m afraid to spend anything because I’m so unsure of when there will be more money.  If I spend nothing of my last unemployment check, or of the next two unemployment checks, I will just make my rent in May.

On Tuesday, I have an interview at Target to work overnights stocking shelves because it pays slightly better than unemployment, yet at the same time, I don’t want to take the job from someone who might need it more than I do.

I know we’re all in the same boat.  We’re all doing our best to keep that boat afloat in an ocean of uncertainty and fear.  And I know that I’ll find my optimism again, but for today it’s okay to not be okay.

I’m going to finish up this coffee and wait for the recruiter to call me for a remote tech writer job I heard about late yesterday.  Maybe this is the one?

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sheltering in place (and Forever in audio)

I feel like there should be something witty or comforting to say right now, but the world around us is falling to pieces, people can’t work, can’t make money and the bills still come.  All around me people who work in stores and salons and theaters are filing unemployment claims to try to scrape by while we shelter in place.

For most of us born after the last world war, this is unprecedented.

It’s an odd thing. As an agoraphobe, this is largely how I live anyway, but now that I have to live this way, I find myself frustrated a little at not being able to just decide to build up my courage and take myself out somewhere…to the park, to eat…whatever.

I probably wouldn’t anyway, but we always want what we can’t have, right?

Shelter in Place…a term we have used mostly as a means to keep people safe during terrifying emergencies like an active shooter, an escaped convict. Who thought we would ever use it to keep people safe from a virus?

Well, if you need something to occupy some of your time, my vampire novel, Forever, is now available in audiobook format and I have some free codes if you’re interested in reviewing it. Just hit me up on my Facebook page.

And with that, dear Readers, I am off to make some more coffee, drink some more water and prepare myself for a day of phone interviews.  Stay safe, wash your hands, shelter in place and we’ll get through this thing together.

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sleep, glorious sleep…or lack thereof

For most of my adult life I have had bouts of insomnia.  There are just times when my body isn’t tired or my brain won’t turn off.  They used to be nights of no sleep.  Lately, they have been nights of sleeping super hard and deep for two to three hours, then waking up and off goes my brain into hyper space.

Some nights I lay there plotting, or fixing plot holes, or world building.  Some nights I lay in bed and stare at YouTube until my eyes close again…or more often, until I’ve come to the conclusion that we are done sleeping (we being me and my brain), and I get up, start some coffee and go sit at the computer hoping to get some of whatever I was plotting or building down on paper.

Last night I was awake around 1:30am, for no apparent reason that I could see, and my brain took off plotting the second book in the Blood Witch story.  There’s a whole new world, you see, that needs proper world building attention!  I watched Bob Ross paint for a while and started to doze, but as soon as I turned him off again, I was awake.

Took a while to finally sleep again, but sleep I did.  For at least an hour and a half.  Having no clue what time I went to bed last night, I’m not sure how much sleep I actually ended up getting, but I guess that’s what coffee is for.

And that coffee is tasting mighty good right now.  I’m taking the day off of the job hunt for an outing with my sister-in-law and niece, which I suppose means I have to wear real clothes, and I probably should finish cleaning out the car.  Part of my Disneybound costume from January is still in the back seat.

So, I’m going back to my coffee before it gets cold.  I hope Wednesday is wonderful and filled with blessings for you, Readers.

 

Photo by chuttersnap on Unsplash

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boys and girls, women and men

I’ve been thinking a lot about my language around gender, and how much of those ingrained throw away phrases are dependent on a very binary, very uneven understanding of what gender is.

We could start with the idea that seems to permeate at least American culture that you can use the words “girl” and “woman” almost synonymously, but try that with “boy” and “man” and at the very least you’ll get shouted at (unless it’s a playful “one of the boys” type thing), because the somehow that’s insulting.  Of course, more and more women are correcting people when they say “girl” and aren’t speaking about someone under eighteen.  Of course, it works the other way too, especially when we’re implying that the person is complicit in some illegal or unsavory situation, like when reporting on sexual assaults, a girl of sixteen will be called a woman because that way the crime is less heinous (insert Law & Order SVU opening monologue here).

Even in my own self speak I find myself calling myself “girl” especially when I’m talking negatively about myself.  I’m fifty-one years old, I left girldom behind a fair few years ago.  I don’t let anyone else call me girl, but I do it to myself all the time.

Being a part of the LGBTQ+ community, and having a niece who is transgender, I find myself becoming more and more aware of this language we have as a set default, this binary man & woman thing that is so much a part of how we talk, how we think that it’s in our idioms, in our daily language with each other.  We throw the words around without thinking about what we are saying.

Just yesterday on Facebook, I posted some…let’s call them reminders about who I am and what I believe, and one of the points was in reference to pregnancy and abortion.  A friend called me out on my gendered language, because, as they pointed out, transmen and non-binary folks can get pregnant as well as cis women.  But in the moment of writing most passionately about abortion being a health decision made by the pregnant person and their doctor, I let that old programming flow.

I know a lot of people have trouble with pronouns and gender now that those among us who are transgender or non-binary no longer feel the need to hide themselves inside the cis paradigm, and even someone like me, who fully supports an expansive idea of what gender is, can get it wrong like I did yesterday.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep trying though, and keep working at the de-internalization of those ideas, keep correcting yourself when you slip up, and take the correction from others when it comes.

Respect is Kindness, and Kindness Matters.

That ended up being a bit deeper than I first expected, but it is an important conversation to have.  Happy Saturday, Readers!  I am off to write and drink more coffee!

 

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash