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finding gratitude and joy

We come to the time of year when we celebrate yet another problematic American holiday.

Growing up, we’re taught a very sanitized version of the history of the country we call home. We’re taught about the first Thanksgiving in a way that perpetuates the myth of how the white people who are my ancestors were helped by the “friendly” Native Americans as if it was all peaceful and they weren’t taking land that wasn’t theirs to take.

Needless to say, I have mixed feelings about the origins of the holiday, so I tend to focus on it being a day to spend with family and be thankful for the year…well, in normal years anyway.

In the last two years, it might seem hard to be thankful. With so much illness and death, the loss of jobs and livelihoods, the isolation of quarantine and lockdown. So much sorrow to dwell in.

I guess that’s the challenge this week; find all the good, the reasons for joy. Let’s celebrate those things in this week of gratitude. I can’t quite bring myself to celebrate the notion that I’m still here, not when over a quarter of a million of our population has died, but certainly, there are other things I can celebrate.

  1. I found a job that pays me well and suits my talents.
  2. I have begun shopping around my next novel, and the two sequels are in very good shape.
  3. I have approval to work remotely permanently. Pajama pants and hoodies all day every day.
  4. My family is, by and large, healthy.
  5. I am good at what I do and I love what I do.
  6. I have a stack of books to read, and time to read them.
  7. I have some of the most amazing friends in the world…all over the world.
  8. I have a gift for recognizing toxic people very quickly and have learned to disengage.
  9. Coffee. Forever and always.
  10. Fandom that isn’t toxic. I’ve largely withdrawn from most fandom arenas, but there is joy to be found in a fandom about that thing you love. Find it.

I hope this week brings you kindness and joy, gratitude and happiness. You are loved, Reader. Spread that around.

Photo by Rosie Kerr on Unsplash

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the art of the heart

How does one sum up a weekend like this one? Every time I try, my mind fills with a kaleidoscope of images that cover a spectrum of beautiful faces, bright colors, book covers, poetry and prose, rainbow hair and amazing costumes.

It seems strange to me that I haven’t always known these people, that it has only been 5 years since my first Sirens conference.

Every year I am able to come to Sirens, I learn new things and I meet new friends. Inspiration abounds, whether it comes in the form of one of the panels / papers, or in a conversation with friends, or one of the Guest of Honor speeches.

So many artists, with so many kinds of arts! Not just writers…we have people who paint and draw and crochet and knit and cross stitch (and other fiber arts). This is most evident on Saturday night at the Sirens Ball, where participants are encouraged to dress for the theme, and the silent auction tables are filled with amazing prints, jewelry, wood working, clothing, scarves and more.

I have a good amount of imposter syndrome when I walk in (and at other times), but it usually melts with the first hug from a fellow author who’s work I adore. This year I forced myself out of my agoraphobic paralysis and actually had conversations with our Guests of Honor (and they were all lovely).

There is beauty in a place that not only accepts you for who you are, but embraces you for it, where you are free to be entirely and unapologetically yourself. Where your beauty is not defined by the size of your body or the shape of your face…where we paint the landscape around us with the art of our hearts and revel in our resistance to the mundane.

But all good things must end, and I have already dropped folks at the airport, checked out of the hotel and am waiting for it to be time to drop my luggage. Then, I will find a place where I can plug in my charger and do some writing/editing.

Tomorrow we go back to the daily grind, and the beautiful land we created from our imaginations will fade slowly back into just a memory that we can pull out when we need to be reminded that we are wonder and joy and fierce.

Until next year, Sirens…I will keep you in my heart until we meet again.

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

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Yesterday, while cleaning, I found my box of Halloween decorations that I’d forgotten I even have. Orange and purple lights, two black light bulbs, caution tape. I haven’t lived anywhere that I could really decorate outside for a very long time.

My current home doesn’t face the street either, but I miss setting up decorations. I don’t really get trick or treaters, but I’m thinking I will dress up the porch anyway.

I no longer have the dummy heads that I made all those years ago, so I need something for my witch. I may swing by the Spirit store when I go for my walk to see if they have something I can use. I need a little joy these days.

The company I work for is having a contest for costumes and for decor, so maybe I ‘ll get bragging rights.

While I dig for the right clothes for my witch, I will also be digging out the clothes that I need to pack for Sirens, which is now less than two weeks away.

I will be adding to my “members only” story over on Ko-fi this week, the first part is up and open to all. For only $1 / month, you can get access to the story as it goes along.

My coffee cup appears to be empty and writing time awaits. Have an amazing Sunday, Readers!

Photo by Ksenia Yakovleva on Unsplash

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stuck in the middle with you

Ever feel like your just stuck in a rut?  Or just stuck, minus the rut?  I’ve been feeling that a lot lately.  Like my life has become this endless routine, and I’m trapped inside it by all of my anxieties and even by my own nature.

It doesn’t help that my day job can get a bit cyclical feeling.  And money’s been tight, so I can’t really break up the monotony with a day out or a weekend away.  And with my diet as curtailed as it is at the moment, and in reality for the next six months or so will likely be, it makes going out with friends more difficult than it usually is.

It isn’t even like I don’t have enough to do right here at home.  Knowing I am going to be recovering from surgery, I’m attempting to get my house as straightened up as I can, to make things easier.  I have plenty to do.

Sometimes, when I start to feel this way, I start to think about ways my life could have been different…if I’d decided to get married or have kids…taken a more traditional route with my life.  And I won’t lie, it’s been on my mind with the surgery coming up and with having helped my mother clean up the detritus of her husband’s life last year…what am I leaving behind?  Who is going to be there when it’s over to clean up whatever I leave, inherit whatever is left?

But really, when I think about it, I have no regrets.  I’ve lived a life I can be proud of, and I am very happy with it.  If this is the middle part of my life, I can only hope that whatever comes next will bring joy and peace and the sense of fulfillment that life up to fifty has enjoyed.

Happy Saturday, Readers!

Photo by Tomas Tuma on Unsplash