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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!

 

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nano, holidays and other manic things

So, November was an interesting month.  I chose to focus on The Blood Witch for NaNoWrMo, dedicated my morning makeup routine time to writing, and spent at least four hours every Saturday and Sunday writing.

On November 29th, I hit 50K and breathed a sigh of relief.  I’m really fond of a lot of what I wrote in November, and yeah, some of it sucks and will end up heavily edited or cut, but that’s not what matters.  With a deadline, even self imposed, I set myself to powering through even the plot spots that were stymying me and making me back off the story.

It isn’t all fixed, and I still have a lot of ground to cover, but I know how the story works from here to the end, and I even know how we transition to the next book and a vague idea of what happens in it.

If you can’t tell, I am not a big outline and plotter kind of person.  I kind of pants it mostly.  I find that if I sit down and plan it all out, my brain decides we’ve already told that story, time to move on.

I got to spend a good day with family on Thanksgiving, even if the oven at their place decided to decorate my hand TWICE.  Ouchie!  And, with that the run up to the holiday season is upon us.

Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday.  On Sunday I’ll be heading up to help my mother decorate for Christmas (and recruiting help from the younger generation).  My presents are all bought and I’m just awaiting delivery for some of them.  I have some baking and such to do, and I’m crocheting in the evenings, handing out scarves and hats to the homeless as I walk to/from work.

And yes, still writing.  My goal is to finish this zero draft before the end of the year and find a critique partner/beta reader who can help me with plot holes and inconsistencies and such.  December is such a crazy month!

I hope that you find some time in it to do something you love and spread a little kindness.  Happy Tuesday, Readers!

 

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kindness matters

I live in a fairly affluent little city in the San Francisco Bay Area’s east bay.  It’s the kind of place where we have stand alone Williams Sonoma, Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus stores, a boutique-y place that sells $60 pajama pants and $159 sweaters, more restaurants than you could sample in a month, and a certain attitude.  Lots of pedestrians, lots of good doggos that you’ll meet while you’re out walking.

Most of the time, I don’t mind.  If nothing else, it makes for good people watching.  I like posting myself up at some cafe’s outdoor table and greeting all the puppies taking their humans out for walks. I imagine stories for the grumpy old man at the corner table and the young couple holding hands as they cross the street, and the baby trying desperately to get his daddy’s attention.

However, the whole tone of things changes as Thanksgiving approaches.  There are certain stores you can’t get near.  Michael’s might as well be on Mars, with it’s very small parking lot that it shares with a Bed, Bath and Beyond.  The place where I normally get my nails done has joined that chaos.  To be fair, it shares a parking lot with a Sports Basement, two gyms, a dry cleaners, acupuncture place, a TJ Maxx, about a dozen restaurants and coffee shops, etc.  I got there around noon on Saturday and there was no parking, with as many as ten cars circling just the one section closest to the nail salon.

Sadly, it isn’t just parking lots.  The streets are full of cars bullying their way through streets, nearly taking out pedestrians, making illegal turns, laying on their horns in an obnoxious manner, etc.  The pedestrians are little better: taking up the whole sidewalk and not letting others get by them, looking at their phones and nearly knocking over others, huddling around the door to a cafe so that no one can get in or out, let alone get around them, etc.

Normally, this behavior doesn’t start until after Thanksgiving, but it came early this year.  This is why I do most of my shopping online these days.  It is also why I don’t even leave my house on Black Friday.

I use Black Friday as Pay it Forward Day.  It is when I do my end of the year giving.  This year, I intend to donate to Heifer International and probably fund a loan or two on Kiva.org. I will probably also make a donation to a local food bank or charity giving gifts to underprivileged kids.  Far better use of my time and dollars than the further commercialization of our holiday season.

Remember that a little kindness goes a long way.  When you find yourself stressed and frustrated with the people around you, be kind.  Let your small acts of kindness lift you out of your bad mood.  And you may not see it, but it will spread out from you.  This is how we change the world, Readers.

Kindness Matters!

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kindness matters

I was reminded this morning that kindness changes people.  I was already in a pretty good mood as I set out for work this morning…it’s warm enough to not need a jacket, the sun was starting to rise, and I took some time to make myself feel pretty this morning (I put on makeup).

As I reached the BART station, a woman stopped me to tell me how she liked the color of my hair.  I thanked her, and said something nice about her gorgeous red hair and she called me pretty.

It’s been a long time since someone called me pretty.  It felt so nice!  I was grinning as I got on the escalator and headed up to the platform.  As the regulars showed up, I got more compliments, on my jewelry, on my dress…and by the time the train showed up, I was practically glowing.

I didn’t even mind that my feet were bothering me or that my back and knees were complaining.  As I sit here at my desk at work with my first cup of coffee and a to do list 3 miles long, I’m still feeling all warm inside.

It’s the little things, a heartfelt compliment can make a person’s day, change hearts, I’d go so far as to say it saves lives, but I don’t want to be overly dramatic.  Just remember, Readers, kindness matters.  Every day, every hour, every minute.  In all things, be kind.

We can’t know what someone else is going through, what burdens they carry, what hell they’re walking through…take the moment to be kind, because it costs you nothing and as the image above says, kindness is magic.

Wave that wand around, sprinkle that magic over everyone and everything.  Think of it was glitter for the soul.

 

Want more from me? Visit me!

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Current Events: https://myweightinwords.wordpress.com/
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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!

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telling stories

When I was still in high school, someone from the church we were attending found an old typewriter and had it cleaned up and repaired and I found it under my Christmas tree.  We were barely making ends meet, and with little money left over for gifts, my mother had reached out to the church for help.

I had a head full of stories, it seems that has always been true.  And suddenly I had a way, beyond my terrible handwriting, to tell them.  It was an amazing gift, one that likely changed my life.

I wrote my first “novel” by hand when I was thirteen or fourteen.  It was truly awful, and a rip off of every science fiction movie or book I had read. But, it started something in me.  My friends read the hand written words and clamored for more.  The sequel to that first awful book was the first thing I wrote on that typewriter.

I’ll admit, it was a heady feeling to be met at the school doors before homeroom by four or five people wanting to get the next ten pages.

I learned a lot through that experience.  I learned to translate my thought processes differently.  I learned about plot development and foreshadowing.  I learned the joy of having readers who loved my work, even when I broke their hearts.

None of the novel length stories I banged out on that typewriter were any good, but that didn’t matter.  I was a writer, and that, as it turns out, wouldn’t change even as I aged.  I am quite a few years past that Christmas and those stories.  My head is still filled with plots and characters and words.  I still work at putting them down on the page, though my paper is now digital.

Best Christmas present ever?  Maybe so.  It gave me so much more than just a tool.  It gave me confidence, joy…it sparked a passion that still burns inside of me today.

The rain is really coming down outside my window, and the wind is howling on this cold Wednesday afternoon.  I think a cup of coffee is in order, and a start to the work day.  I hope you are all safe and warm, Readers.  Fill your day with kindness, and reap the joy it brings.

 

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kindness matters

The guiding principle that I follow is simple: Kindness Matters.

From the tiny gestures like holding the elevator for someone, or a smile in passing to the bigger gestures like buying coffee or lunch for someone to the grandiose gestures, like paying off someone’s debt or buying someone a car…it all matters.

I try to infuse my life with that kindness, to live each and every day thinking about kindness first.  I started to think this way years and years ago, and with each passing day I get better at it.

I still have unkind thoughts, that’s just human, but when I do, I stop myself and think about what is driving that thought.  Usually, it isn’t because of anything someone else has said or done.  Nearly always it is because I am being cranky.  I generally treat it by doing something kind for someone else.

Funny thing is, it works.

I am a happier person in general since I adopted this notion, since I brought kindness first into my life.  I can’t pay off anyone debts (including my own) in a grand sweeping notion, but I can buy the homeless guy trying to stay dry and warm in the nearly endless rain we’re experiencing now a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich.  I’m not buying anyone a car anytime soon, but I can knit or crochet hats and scarves for people on the street.  I can bake cookies to take to work to share, even though I can’t have any.  I can hold the elevator door for the mother with two toddlers and a stroller and a diaper bag and briefcase on her way to the daycare on the 2nd floor.

I can also accept people for who they present themselves to be, faults and flaws and all, and love them for who they are.  I can offer the people around me the permission to be themselves, wholly and completely simply by being myself wholly and completely.  This is why I generally have no filter.

I am not ashamed of who I am:  Fat, 50, geeky, kinky, dorky, thinky, cis-gendered female (with all that implies…boobs, periods, mood swings, hot flashes, etc), agoraphobic, socially awkward.  I don’t hide much, I don’t keep much private, even though others think I should.

It’s a kindness I give to the world around me in the hope that one day we will stop being ashamed of things in which there should be no shame.  There’s enough pain and shame and blame and misery in this world.  No need to invent more.

So, on this rainy Wednesday, give yourself permission to be you, and remember that kindness really does matter.  It can change lives.  It changed mine.

 

 

Photo by Robert Baker on Unsplash