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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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to boldly go…

Among my earliest memories, there is Star Trek, you know, the original series that started the phenomenon.  I couldn’t tell you how old I was, but I can tell you about the ugly brown couch with the weird texture that we sat on to watch it, and that I watched it with my father.

I know it came before Star Wars, which came along when I was nine, and I know that it started my love of sci-fi, and more than that, my love of space.

The only thing that kept me from pursuing a life in the sciences was my extreme hatred of math, and the more advanced the math, the more I disliked it. So, I opted toward the science fiction side of space.

But, things like this…this image of a black hole a ridiculous distance from earth…a beautiful, amazing image that took a team of scientists working together for years…things like this make me dream of a different life a little bit.

katie-boumanAnd then there’s this picture of Katie Bouman, one of the scientists on the project as she sees all of that work coming to fruition.  Look at the joy and wonder on her face.  That is the face of someone who loves her work, who has passion for her work and is genuinely in awe of the universe at her fingertips.

Of course there are trolls out there set to destroy the legacy Katie’s accomplishments for little more than the fact that she is a woman, but forget them.  They can’t take that joy, that sense of wonder from this picture.  They can’t hold a candle to the work that she’s done in her young life.  Forget them and let their legacy be one of the silence that comes when one is ignored.

Look instead to this beautiful image, and recognize the scientists, all of them including women and gay men and straight men,  who made it possible.  Imagine what else they can show us!

And, while I’m here, Readers, a quick reminder that Where Shadows Fall is available for your Kindle for free today and tomorrow, so get yours now!

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the road through 15 years

I have a confession to make, I love the television show Supernatural.  Sure, it has its faults.  Yes, it’s had some less than stellar story lines.  Or course, some of it is over the top outlandish.  Yep, the characters are all deeply flawed.  I think maybe that’s part of why I love it.  For all that it’s about the supernatural, it’s about the very human family at the center of it. And not just blood family.  It’s about that, but it’s also got a very strong understand of made family, the family you chose.

I’ve just finished a rewatch of the show from the beginning through the end of season 13.  When I started my rewatch, I didn’t know that they would soon be announcing that season 15 would be the end of it, but it made me glad I had decided to go back to the very beginning.

I can remember when we waited, heads bowed and praying for them to announce that we’d get another season…back before it became the juggernaut of fan-conventions, before the fandom rose up to perform some truly amazing acts of charity (despite all of ITS flaws and backbiting and judgement).

Marathoning through 13 seasons in the last few months gave me some insights I probably wouldn’t have gotten any other way.  It made me appreciate those flawed characters and the amazing actors that bring them to life even more.

I’ve never been to a Supernatural convention due to my agoraphobia and the cost it would involve to get me what I need to cope, but there’s a part of me that wishes I could.  I’ve come to love, not just the boys Jared and Jensen, but the entire family of actors who inhabit the Supernatural universe.

I’m glad they get to go into the final season knowing that it’s the final season, and I hope that it provides them to give us a fitting end to 15 years of hunting trips.  And if they wanted to give us another episode with Jeffery Dean Morgan popping by, I wouldn’t complain.

I’ve been mulling over what I might like that ending to be, and I have a few ideas, but I think I’ll keep them to myself for now.  Feel free to drop your ideas in the comments.  I’d love to know!

Now, the coffee is getting cold, so I best get to the drinking of it, and start putting some words to the page.

Photo lovingly borrowed from Entertainment Weekly.

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making up with makeup

I’ve always had something of a love/hate relationship with the concept of cosmetics.  On the one hand, I love how they can help me present an image of myself, on the other, I hate the work involved.

In my teens, I never left the house without the minimum of foundation, mascara and eyeshadow.  As I got older I added lipstick and eyeliner.  Then I hit a period of not wearing anything.  I think that came as I was working on how to love the face in the mirror.

I had to drop the pretense, I guess.  And that took a long time.  I only did my makeup if I was going “out” or getting my picture taken.  Suddenly, however, almost immediately after my surgery, I started putting makeup on to go to work, and if I was leaving the house for the doctor’s office and such.  Not everyday, mind you, but often.

This week I cleaned out my admittedly very old collection of makeup, trashed a whole lot of it.  I need to clean my brushes and what nots, but yeah, it was time to drop the old stuff.  I broke my own no buy rule recently and splurged on some higher end cosmetics than I would normally buy and they arrived yesterday.

I’m excited for Monday morning when I get to try it all out for the first time.  Silly as that sounds.

Well, my coffee is waiting for me and there are words to capture, so I’m off.  Tell me, Readers, what is your morning routine like?

Don’t forget, I’m running a special offer over on my Patreon:  join me know at the $3 per month or up level and you will get a postcard from my personal collection covering 50 years of my life, chosen just for you with a nice note from me.

 

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

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the elusive nature of unconditional love

Back in the day when I was an evangelical Christian (yes, really), I  spoke a lot about unconditional love.  I believed that I acted inside that love.  I believed that I understood what unconditional love really was.

The truth is, I was clueless.

It took a lot of changes in my life to realize that.  It took leaving behind everything I thought I knew, everything I believed.  It took discovering myself under all of the layers of learned behavior and belief/fear conditioning.  I often liken those days to days spent in a cult.

Unconditional love is something that springs from inside you and because of that, nothing external to you can change it.  Nothing someone does, nothing someone says can change that kind of love.

That’s a really powerful thing.  It’s the kind of thing that changes lives.  It changed mine.  I’m not saying I practice it perfectly, I am, after all, still human.  And I’m not aiming for sainthood here.  I still make snap judgments about people.  I still criticize things I know I shouldn’t.  But I try to embody unconditional love to all.

It’s what drives me to act with kindness.  To meet people where they are, as they are and try to be helpful without inserting my own prejudice and needs into their life.  It’s why I can be friends with people so very different to me. How I can give of myself where others won’t.

Sure, sometimes I miss the mark, but the longer I practice this idea, the longer I choose to put love and kindness ahead of judgement and fear, the better I get at it.   I just keep hoping to one day get it right.

I hope your Saturday is filled with the light of Love, Readers, and that you radiate that love back out into the world around you.  Let’s light this place up!

 

 

 

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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.

 

Photo by Camille Orgel 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!

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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.

 

 

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the last stand

I haven’t really talked enough about Where Shadows Fall. I struggled a bit with getting this book done, maybe in part because I knew it would be the end of my living in that world, at least for a while.

The grand finale takes place in Washington D.C., which I think was rather inevitable, given what we know about the man pulling the strings.  I didn’t set out to have a meglomanical bad guy.  In the beginning he was just a guy who believed that Others were evil.  Clearly, I maintained some of that in the overall story however.

To me there is nothing as frightening as a person who believes without doubt, someone who fears that other for no concrete reason but because they have been told to believe. They can’t be reasoned with. No argument will penetrate the protective barrier of that belief mixed with fear and hate.

I always thought that it came from religion, from man’s need to control mankind’s access to gods and the power that came with that.  However, as we can see in America today, it doesn’t have to come from within religion.  It need only wrap itself in the cloth that resembles religion to draw people in.

I find that terrifying.  Maybe that’s why the 8th Battalion became one of the big bads in these books.  It certainly drives the character of Colonel Shallon.  Blind belief is a dangerous weapon.

That is where my thoughts are today, Readers.  I hope yours are more pleasant on this cold, January Saturday.

 

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the day after

When the chaos and uproar of opening presents is done, and the floor looks like a tornado came through and dropped colorful debris over everything, there’s a kind of quiet that settles in.  Everyone is caught up in playing with new toys and trying on new clothes, setting up new tech and even the animals have worn themselves out.

And my family is all grown adults (for some valued of adult anyway)!

Still, I think that’s some of my favorite time on Christmas day.  Before we’ve gotten up to start the clean up, while we’re still sharing our presents with family…it’s a kind of happiness that only comes there, in the family time, where we can be geeks and dorks and excited about things that make us happy.

Of course, then comes the clean up and the shift to getting Christmas dinner on the table.  Sure, we keep playing as the day goes on, maybe even break out the board games, which leads to a whole different kind of family time.  You haven’t lived until you’ve played Cards Against Humanity with your 70 year old mother and internet-raised nieces!

But, like all other good things, the time comes when the day must end and family scatters…though at this point, I’m the only one not living under that roof, and then comes the long drive home.  And the day after…

It’s a bit of a let down, I guess, for the day after.  All the waiting and anticipating and chaos is done and somehow, you’re expected to re-enter the working world as if none of it happened at all.