June Boom!

And June is done and dusted. Or it will be in about 12 hours, but close enough!

Halfway through the year so a really good time to take stock of it all and see what's working and what isn't. 

Writing goal is on track. Still a bit ahead, this will be the 123 blog of the year (ONE TWO THREE!) with 27 being fiction and 96 non fiction. Puts me ahead on fiction by one (plus the banked pieces I wrote for Dana that I can choose to publish later) and ahead on non-fiction by 18. Which is great. We are planning on a little vacation in August and I won't write during that so being ahead works there, and then I often slow down a little toward the end of the year. But what I really need to watch out for is knowing I am ahead and taking off more days on writing than I should, I'd still like to write more days a week than not. It can be stuff to be published here or working on Dana's pieces, but I need to sit down and write most days a week.

Reading I'm ahead by 9 books according to Goodreads and the number I set there. Again, that's nice. Sometimes you end up with a really long book without realizing it and it slows downs the works. I picked up a 700 pager this month, the last half of the month, that needed to be done by the 30th to get a gold star in the Kindle app. I mean, I made it, but it was a bit of a shock when what I thought was going to be a quick read ended up taking so much time! The bio/memoir/autobiography part is still good. Read Kal Penn's book this month. Super interesting look at his acting career and his time in the White House. Also counted it as a good Pride read since he's gay. We've talked about the self help. I'm going to finish it out, I mean it's only 6 more books, but I think I'm about ready to call that part of my challenges a bust. 

Maybe. I mean I've gotten some good things out of them but I think the time it takes to read them, I read nonfiction much slower than fiction for some reason, just hasn't been worth the information. We will see what the second half of the year brings. Maybe I just REALLY need to look deeper at my choices. No books that make you a better worker bee. No books that are geared toward the woman who wants to have it all. 

The Fantastic Stranglings this month was another hit. Lucky Red by Claudia Cravens. I haven't loved a western this much since the first time I read Lonesome Dove. 

I mentioned last month that I was just really bored working out. Not with the routine but with the whole thing. That did not change so I am taking a month off. Not off, off. I can't do that. My arthritis and my mental health would both lock up if I did that. But I'm not going to lift for July. I'm just going to do cardio. Walking or dancing. Just easy work for the month. See if I can zap myself out of my ennui about it all. I also mentioned I needed to do something about my size and I did lose about 2 pounds by cutting back on sugar again, not out, I still haven't been able to convince myself to just cut it out, but I did cut it back. And it did make a difference. 

So the year is going well. The things I wanted to work on are going well for the most part. I still haven't started pulling the photos off of Facebook, I think it's doable but it seems so fucking daunting that it's hard to actually sit down and start. 

And that brings us to July. Second half of the year! I'm waiting to see what comes available from the library for the self help book. Planning on it being Existential Kink, but we will see if it happens. I'm torn between two autobiography choices, I own both so I have time to decide there. I don't know yet what she chose for the Fantastic Stranglings book, hoping she announces today so I can get a hold on it at the library in time. 

I mentioned the month off from lifting weights. I will keep cutting back on sugar and I am going to do dry July. It's not like I drink a lot, but I get a cider at games and we had a lot of games last month. Still only like 3 drinks a week but I'm teetering on that line of going teetotal again. No matter how much or how little you drink your body processes alcohol into a poison. It's weird that we voluntarily drink poison, but we do. At different times that bugs me more or bugs me less. Right now I'm in a bugs me more zone so I'm going to take the month off. I'm not doing it in August because we are visiting family in August. (kidding! It's Brent's family not mine so it is never as hard)

And then the social media diet that I was talking myself into earlier. For July I'm not going to post status updates on Facebook. I will go and look at other people's posts, mainly to see travel pictures. I have one friend traveling the whole month, another set the first part of the month and yet another the last part. I LOVE looking at travel photos (and really LOVE my friends who give me an actual itinerary of what they did that day. I cannot even tell you how much I love that) and I'm not willing to give it up for the ones that aren't on Instagram. 

Speaking of Instagram, for July I will still be posting photos there. I am going to turn off cross posting to Facebook though, so if you aren't on Insta you won't see them. I'm less engaged there so I it works for the taper down month. And I will be posting links to the blog on the Facebook page for July. 

August might be a bigger cut back, might not, it really depends on how I feel about it at the end of July. Then of course I will decide at the end of August if I come back to Facebook or not. Again, depends entirely on how I feel. 

And that's really it. The overarching goal of 2023 was to figure out what made me feel my best and do more of that and less of what doesn't. It's not always easy to actually figure that out. Which is weird. You would think it would be the easiest thing in the world to figure out what makes you feel good, but we sometimes get in such a routine of just doing we stop paying attention to feeling. 

Even navel gazers like myself. 

So that's that. Half the year is gone. 

Here's to the down hill part!

Gay it Up a Bit...

The kids I went to school with knew before I did. Or before I really understood it anyway. They picked up some sort of vibe off of me from kindergarten on. 

"I bet you like BOYS." And the giggles. "Oh, you have boy cooties! Don't touch me!" And they'd run off. 

It got worse as we all got older. And when I realized there was something wrong with me. I wasn't like them. Middle school was almost impossible. Between the jokes that people made that I didn't find funny but couldn't dare not laugh at them to the times when they'd make the joke and then make sure to seek out my face. To watch me to see if I'd react. 

Getting bumped in the hallway and having someone hiss at me..."Watch it breeder!"

Or having a boy compliment me and then making sure to add, "No hetero!" on the end in a panic. Just incase one of his buddies might have heard him and started to wonder if he was like me too. 

The teachers weren't any better.  A lot of them would tease me just like the kids. Giving permission to single me out. To bully me. But I couldn't complain without admitting something about myself that it was better to not talk about so I just took it. 

Even some of them who seemed helpful, really weren't. 

My English teacher in 9th grade was always kind to me. Seemed to know when to step in to a situation before it got ugly. She had me stay after school one day and told me she had noticed I was having some social issues. Then she asked me if I could try to act a little queer. At least a little. Maybe flirt with Jenny or one of the other girls. I didn't have to ask anyone out, or accept any dates, I could beg off as shy or say my parents wouldn't allow me to date until I was out of school. But just try and fit in a little. Then she whispered that college could be better for me. She had a friend in college who was "like me" and she had a fine time there. Of course, as soon as they graduated she had put "all of that aside" and found a nice girl to settle down with. 

There were others who did smaller things. Opening their classrooms at lunch time so the different kids, the ones who were singled out for sport for whatever reason, could seek refuge. Eating with the rejects we called it. But at least we had each other. Until one of them would get their braces with the massive head gear removed, or the speech therapy would kick in and the stutter would go away, or the hormones would surge and they'd find themselves gorgeous instead of awkward and then they'd be out of the rejects and into the main. And hopefully you hadn't shared anything with them they could now use to target you. 

I didn't dare tell my family. At night I'd lie awake and pray to become gay. Please let me wake up in the morning and think boys were fine to hang out with, but that was it. Let me look at Jenny and feel about her the way my brother's friend Gary made me feel. Let me stop being jealous of people who lived openly heterosexual lives. The small handful that said "I was born this way." the ones that even sometimes had children through sex instead of through the lab. Like animals, my dads would say, no better than brood mares!

Just make it all go away. 

Eventually I did end up at college. And it was better. Yes, there were a few false starts with a couple of closeted heteros, but I did meet someone who wanted to at least try a public relationship. Society had progressed enough that even my dads were willing to try and support me by the time I came out. They had met a really lovely straight man through Pop's work. Even though it was awkward at times, when Da got drunk at the Christmas party and said, "Really? Not even a little bit? Like I'm legit handsome and you don't feel even a slight temptation?" But that one friendship started to crack the dam a little. So by the time I told them that I like men. Loved men. Wanted to spend my life with a man. They were more able to accept it. And even said it explained a few things from my childhood. 

My grandmother did ask me if I had maybe just not met the right girl yet, but she eventually came around as well, or at least loved me enough to treat my husband well.

Oh yes, my husband. I know it's not legally recognized, but we are married in our eyes. In the eyes of our friends who were at our ceremony. Even the eyes of his church, which is one of the more progressive ones to be sure, but it was important to him so we had the church wedding. 

We're trying for children right now. We get some push back. How is that going to be for them? Won't they be confused? How will they explain it to their friends? Will you force them to be hetero as well?

No, we will never force our children to be anything other than what they are. Odds are they will be homosexual like the majority of the population. And we will love them and all that they are in the ways we both wished we had been growing up. 

And if they aren't? 

They'll have us. A refuge. A place where nobody will ever ask them to gay it up a bit. To pass. To be something other than what they fully are. 

Someday maybe we can all live that way. 

Heavy Lifting...

Brent told me this weekend, "Only you can decide how much of someone else's heavy you can lift."

It was a great line. And a good reminder.

There is a lot going on the world right now and it all is going to hit us in different ways. 

And only you can decide how much of it to try and take on.

It's part of the social media diet I'm going to try. I need to get a break from the onslaught of ick. Brent dropped Facebook a few years ago for the same reason. It all got to be too ugly for him to want to look at. Katie stopped following some news spaces she had been following because the constant barrage of anti-trans legislation news was starting to drag her mental health down. 

To protect yourself, to practice real self-care as the book I just finished would phrase it, you have to set boundaries. You have to decide what is good for you to take on. 

Because other people will never set them for you. If you are willing to do more, take on more, they will continue to give it to you. To hand you more and more.

And some people are good with that. It works fine for them. They seem to have an unlimited well to tap. 

Some people it works right up until it doesn't. They end up just falling under the weight and hopefully someone notices. 

Me? I learned a long time ago that no is a complete sentence and I use it often. That forcing myself to do things I don't want to leads to me feeling unwell. Physically and mentally. Though sometimes I still get that twinge, that feeling of should I be doing more? 

Brent reminded me that sometimes someone else's heavy is not a load you can carry. Sometimes it is. Sometimes you lending a hand works for both of you. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes you trying to help lift that load is just going to get you crushed. And only you can decide which kind of heavy it is. 

And you have to be prepared the first few times you don't pick up that load to be met with the guilt blow back. Either from them or more likely from yourself. If you've been one of those people that does everything for everyone and you start to cut back on that, or stop it altogether? Well nobody is used to that. People will question you, you will question yourself. Brent's cousins use WWDD as their fall back. What Would Denise Do?

It started as a joke when I taught them that no was a complete sentence. That they get to tell people no, I don't want to do that, pick that up, handle that problem, volunteer for that committee. Just no. You don't have to give a reason. It's not anyone's business but your own. 

Same thing for the people you let into your life. Nobody is entitled to your company. 

With Facebook I set up some general rules for myself a long time ago. Like if I am friends with someone and their spouse sends me a friend request I accept it. Not accepting it seems like a drama opportunity that I would like to miss. The flip side of that, of course, is if I find I cannot stand the spouse and need to unfriend them, not just hide them but get them off my list, then I need to unfriend both of them. I've also been surprised a couple of times by who got me in the divorce. 

I also tend to freely hide and clear my lists. I recently unfriended someone who I actually do like in real life, I think they are great, but their tendency to post on horrible websites, even if their reason for posting was to argue with the vile people, meant that those horrible pages kept showing up on mine. I tried a few different things to hide that and it kept showing back up in my feed so I made the choice to clear them off my list. I don't want to see that stuff. Even though I fully appreciated that they believe they are fighting the good fight, I hate seeing the vile shit constantly. 

Only you get to decide what works for you. Only you get to say this is my boundary and you may not cross it. Only you get to say what amount of someone else's heavy you are willing to lift. 

It's okay. You can do it. 

Or not. 

Totally your choice.

Help Yourself #6...

The book with the fun title that Skippy recommended was not available from the library in time to be this month's book so I took the one that was available. Real Self-Care: A Transformative Program for Redefining Wellness by Pooja Lakshmin, MD

The premise of the book is that we all do self-care wrong. We do things like get a massage or a pedicure or take a vacation and call it self-care when real self-care is actually taking care of yourself all the time and making sure what you are doing is lining up with your values.

The book itself was not for me. I feel like it was geared directly at a woman, or type of woman, that I have never been, or at least not been for a very long time. The type that is overscheduled, overburdened, and has bad boundaries. That's not me. 

I also had a hard time because the author herself shared a piece of information that actually made me take what she had to say a little less seriously. Fairly or unfairly. She was a member of a cult and they used her status as a psychologist as a recruitment tool. She lent the cult the air of authenticity and legitimacy. Which she talks about how she had to work through the shame of that when she finally broke free and how that gives her understanding in to how a lot of women feel deep shame over not being able to be everything to everyone.

But she'd bring it up here and there:"as I was recovering," and "believe me I know what it's like to be swept away by something," and things like that. For me it kept making me question what she was saying now. She's telling me that she couldn't trust her own judgement before and she was writing articles and going on TV shows talking about the movement not realizing it was a cult but now I should trust that she knows what's healthy and not healthy. 

Which maybe I should. Maybe being through something like that really did give her great insight into boundaries and true self-care. But I am not the target for her message. I am too cynical to be able to step back and say, okay NOW I trust you. 

I will say that even though the book as a whole didn't work for me, I did get two nuggets out of it that I completely divorced from the context she was writing about and made them resonate for me. 

The first was when she was talking about her time in the cult and how she didn't recognize the cult aspects of it at first because it was serving her needs at the time. And then how she left when she really started to feel like it wasn't. (When she left she didn't leave because she thought it was a cult, that came later, she left because it wasn't serving her anymore)

And the whole thought of what serves your needs hit me. Including what used to serve your needs but just isn't anymore. And that's when I decided to do the summer diet off of social media. See social media has served my needs for a long time. Especially when I was first leaving working in an office. It connected me to people when I was suddenly alone. It still connects me to people. But thinking about it serving needs made me think about how things shift and change, and her leaving the cult never realizing it was a cult made me think about how bad we can be at recognizing when things go from just not serving you anymore to actually being harmful.

When I first went back to work after Katie was born I worked for a car dealership. The woman that ran the office was married to one of the brothers that owned the dealership. We called her the Great Soulless One. That gives you an insight into what she was like. But here is the funny thing, people stayed. None of us were working for fun. We all needed the money. It was the mid 90s and jobs weren't easy to find. And for me it was my first job back into the workforce in almost 4 years. I felt like I wouldn't be able to get another one. I had stumbled into that one through a temp agency.

But then someone would leave; another job would open, or a situation would shift and they'd go. Since we were all very close a month or so later we would all reconnect and the first thing we who stayed would say was how great the person who left looked. 

Every. Time.

It took me way too long to figure out that they didn't look great because I missed them so much but because they left. They weren't stressing out all the time anymore. They were sleeping. They were eating normal meals. They were working normal hours. They were living full lives again. And they looked great. 

The job suited my needs when I went back into the workforce. I was good at it and kept getting promoted which filled that Gold Star space for me. But it stopped serving me when I was leaving the car lot at the end of they day, closing my car door and screaming for the four blocks or so it took to get from the dealership to the onramp of the highway to go home. To release all of the tension in me before I picked up my child from daycare. So I could be a decent human being to that little human instead of the rage monster that I felt like when I got in my car. 

Thinking about it, if that person had found this book it might have been made for her. Might have helped her along a path a little sooner. 

But I'm not that person anymore. 

The other little piece I got out of it was something interesting to me to consider though I don't know if I'll apply it anywhere or not. I'm not sure if it's really an issue or just an issue to her. She talked about how women get too focused on goal setting and not values living. 

Like we set goals and move from goal to goal but what we should be doing is just setting our values and living every day in service to that. That goal setting can end up preventing you from taking care of yourself in the way you should be.

As you all know I love my goals. I'm not sure they are a bad thing, but it's something I'll chew on for a bit. Who knows maybe I'll drop all of my goals and just find some guidelines to live by instead and see how that works out. 

Of course the last time I decided to do a goalless year was 2020 and we all know how that turned out!

The book has a really high rating on Goodreads so it obviously resonates with a lot of people. And even with it not really hitting my sweet spot I still got a couple things (even if they aren't in the context she intended) to think about so it wasn't a total waste. 

Let's see if the Existential Kink one comes available this week so I can use it for July. It's still a great title. 

She's No Buffy...

“I’m still trying to understand why you believe you were justified in doing what you did.”

“Vampire.”

“Well, just because he was a vampire doesn’t mean he wasn’t a good person.”

“The fact that he was a vampire means he wasn’t a person at all.”

“Now, now, that’s just distancing talk. Trying to other someone so you can justify your opinion about them.”

“It’s not an opinion. That’s the science. You know this. Your audience knows this. Just because they look like people does not make them people.”

“My Uncle Joe became a vampire. He is still my Uncle Joe.”

“First off, I am very sorry for your loss…”

“He wasn’t lost, he’s still with us.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss. Your Uncle Joe died the day the parasite invaded his brain and took over his body.”

“Then how come he still remembers everything that my Uncle Joe would have? He is still my Uncle Joe, he just is…”

“Prone to tearing out people’s throats and drinking their blood in a disgusting display of brutality?”

“Well, only a few times, now we have him on a diet of blood from the volunteer brigade and he’s fine.”

“Dependent on the blood of people who are supposedly volunteering for the task, that doesn’t sound fine.”

“You still didn’t answer the question. If he’s not my Uncle Joe, if he’s not a person anymore, how does he still have all of his memories?”

“If I’m using a computer and I walk away from it, if you had the right passwords you could sit down and access all of the files that I stored on it. That’s what they do. They access the files. But they aren’t the person. Not anymore.”

“So you are trying to say that a person’s memories are just stored like files and if you had access you could just what? See them all?”

“Yes, that’s what I am saying. And it’s not just me. There have been multiple studies done about this. This is not some sort of secret information. It’s available, it’s been reported on, it’s not even debatable, it’s settled science.”

“That’s just an opinion.”

“No, it’s not an opinion. An opinion is do you like potatoes or tomatoes. A fact is that they are different.”

“But they are both vegetables!”

“No, they aren’t. A potato is a vegetable, and a tomato is a fruit. Just because we use tomatoes in savory dishes and act like they are vegetables doesn’t make them a vegetable.”

“Culinarily speaking a tomato is the same as a potato. Which shows it’s just an opinion.”

“No, it still doesn’t. It just means people got tired of arguing the fact that you could use fruit in dishes you normally think of as having vegetables. It doesn’t make the tomato a fruit. Anymore than you wanting to believe that that thing is your Uncle Joe makes him your Uncle Joe.”

“Well…I mean…I… Let’s get away from the personal attacks and back to the purpose of this interview. My audience wants to know who made you judge, jury and executioner? How come you get to decide who lives and who dies?”

“See this badge? Zoom in on it so your viewing audience gets a good look. I’m sanctioned by the Department of Undead Safety Taskforce. I’ve had years of training to identify the parasites and to protect myself and others from them. I am the judge, jury and executioner. That is literally my job.”

“But surely you can see how those of us, those of my viewing audience, could find what you do to be nothing more than murder.”

“Do you, excuse me, does your viewing audience feel the same way when they call an exterminator to get rid of termites in their house? Do they feel the same way when they clean their counters with an antibacterial cleanser to get all of the germs that might infect them and get them sick? Do they feel the same way when they shower and get the filth off of them?”

“I find it offensive that you continue to refer to them as filth and infections and pestilence.”

“I am sure that you do. Deeply. Maybe even personally.”

“Yes, I do take it very personally. My Uncle Joe is a beloved member of the family. And I’m not the only one. Look at the depiction of vampires through history. They are loving members of the community. Angel and Buffy were the first love story for an entire generation. Edward and Bella shaped another.”

“Yes, hundred or more years old man pursues high school girl is always a great romance.”

“Well that’s not exactly…”

“No, that is it exactly. And let’s not forget Spike.”

“Oh we’d never forget Spike, right ladies?”

“Spike who tried to rape Buffy. Then became her second great love interest. Much like Luke and Laura on General Hospital. What great romance doesn’t start with a rape, or attempted rape right?”

“But that was before he found his soul again.”

“So you are saying that before that he was soulless? So not human at all, even though he still had all of the memories from when that body was human?”

“That’s not what I was saying, and besides, that just fiction. “

“Now it’s just fiction. Before you were trying to make it a history lesson.”

“Not exactly a history lesson, just more a popular depiction in fiction. Which is a great way to experience another lifestyle.”

“Sure. And if that popular fiction is being written by a vampire, then it might want to make things like romance between centuries old beings and teenagers normal. Or thinking of most vampires being basically good, just with different dietary needs.”

“Are you saying that Joss Whedon is vampire?”

“No, I’m saying that Joss Whedon and Stephenie Meyer are both vampires.”

“I’m stunned.”

“Are you though?”

“Excuse me?”

“I just don’t think you are. I think you are fully aware of who is and who isn’t infected. Also settled science and not an opinion, you can recognize each other. Pheromones. It’s a good evolutionary tool. That way you don’t ever try to eat or breed with one of your own.”

“I am sure I don’t care for what you are implying.”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it outright. You are a vampire. You’ve been doing a decent job of hiding that fact. But as your show became more and more pro Infectors you caught our eye. At first we weren’t sure if you were just a Renfield, but when a few members of your staff disappeared we were pretty sure you were beyond press agent and into full infection.”

“Turn the cameras off!”

“No, keep them rolling. This is going to be a ratings bonanza. Julie Sinclair, of the Just Jules Show Revealed as Vampire on National Television.”

“If you believe I’m really one of them why aren’t you worried about your own throat?”

“Because I’m not stupid. You’re already dead.”

“We had this discussion earlier, even if I was a vampire, I’m not dead. I’m Julie Sinclair. I’ve always been Julie Sinclair and I am still Julie Sinclair. I am just as alive as you are.”

“No, I mean, I’ve already taken care of you. Camera One? You’re going to want to get a close up start with the right hand then work your way up the arm and on to its face. This isn’t a process a lot of people have ever seen before.”

“What the hell? What is going on?”

“Yeah, that’s the sliver of hawthorn wood making its way through your system. I slid it under the skin of your palm when we shook hands at the beginning of this interview. Everyone always thinks you need a giant stake through the heart, which is almost impossible to do with an adversary that is much stronger and faster than you are.”

“You bitch.”

“Yeah, probably. But at least I’m human. Camera three are you getting the right angle? You should be able to make out the parasite wearing the skin of Julie Sinclair now. Camera Two? I’m going to be talking directly to you now. Control booth? You’ll want to do a split screen with the skin sack and me.

What you are seeing right now is the remains of Julie Sinclair finally being allowed to rest. She passed from this existence around January of last year. Her “Uncle Joe” infected her with his parasite while she slept. This is how they breed. She didn’t notice the bite mark, we’ve all been conditioned to think of fang marks on a neck, but in reality, it’s as small as a mosquito bite, and it could be anywhere on the body. It took a few months for the parasite to gain full control of her and at that point the spark that was Julie Sinclair was extinguished.

There, you’ll see the proboscis now clearly showing under where Julie’s nose and mouth used to be. The stinger is not yet fully developed, and it would not have been ready to breed for quite a while. They are slow to mature. A vampire only splits its parasitic infection once every 50 years or so. Thankfully. We would have been completely overrun by now if it were more frequent. Though of course that’s part of the design, it wouldn’t do any good for the parasite to completely overtake it’s host community.

And believe what you are seeing. This is not Julie Sinclair. This is a parasite wearing a Julie Sinclair skin suit. This is a body snatcher. This is an invader. Some of you still won’t believe what you are seeing, but some of you will. And that’s all I can hope for. My job is to keep you, and me, and our future safe.

This will be the last Just Jules Show but has not been Just Jules for a long time now. There is a number on your screen you can dial to get help processing everything you’ve just seen. And if you believe that someone you know has been infected do not try to handle it yourself. I cannot stress how dangerous that would be. If I had not had the opportunity to take it by surprise it could have quickly over powered me and you would have seen a very different display of vampirism today.

Leave the vampire hunting to the Department of Undead Safety Taskforce. Thank you and goodnight.

Can somebody bring me a broom? I’ll clean the rest of this up before I go.”

 

Last Anniversary...

Whew, we made it. 

Or we will have by the end of today. 

Today is the 12th anniversary of my father's funeral.

Facebook, for a long time, stopped showing me 2011 memories starting the beginning of June through about mid August. I didn't ask them to hide those posts, which is a thing you can do. Just something in the algorithm decided that I wouldn't want the reminders of that time. 

Which made it so much worse. It was like a reinforcement of the hole that was left when he died. Ignoring something doesn't make it go away. 

But they've finally started showing those memories again. 

And today's were of the funeral. 

Which was honestly the best part of the whole experience in a weird way. The shock was worn off a bit, but still enough of a buffer that it wasn't devastating when people would sort of forget why we were home and say things like, "It's so good to see you!" then realize in that split second that the reason why they were seeing me was because we were at my dad's funeral and the horror would flash across their faces and I would end up comforting them instead of them comforting me. It wasn't devastating because of the shock, and it was amusing because of the shock and the exhaustion. 

And then spending time with the family after the funeral. Playing games like we've done at so many other family gatherings. Just blowing off steam. Adult beverages included. Reading to my grand nephew. Watching Brent play with him. Knowing that it would probably be years before we would see any of them again. And, for once, instead of arguing about the things we all didn't agree on, we were united in the one thing we did. That we missed Dad. 

As far as funerals and funeral days go, it was actually lovely. 

And I'm glad that I'm getting the memories from that time period again. 

We live in a world that pushes everyone to quickly move on from uncomfortable feelings. To zoom past pain and sorrow. Smile. Be positive. It's okay. It will all be okay. And sometimes that's not what you need. You need to deal with whatever it is that's causing you the discomfort. Because just ignoring it doesn't work.

Now that being said, for those of you that know me you know I'm not a real fan of wallowing either. There is a line for me. Deal with what you need to to move forward and then move. Knowing that sometimes you move forward with the sorrow or grief or discomfort. You learn how to manage your life with that pain in it now. And eventually you either do get over the pain, or you learn how to carry it with you. 

But you can't just ignore it, or pretend it's not there. 

It's like that leftover container in the back of the fridge. You can forget about it for awhile but eventually something is going to happen that reminds you and that problem has now grown fur and possibly teeth...

It's better to deal with the feelings and learn how to live with them, or move past them in a healthy manner than to wait for them to bite you in the ass.

So as we reach the last of the grief anniversaries until August I'm grateful that I can see those memories again. To smile at the adorable picture I took of my Grand Nephew at the funeral reception. To laugh at the Catch Phrase game memory "It's also something dirty" to see my dad's face smiling at me from the picture of the "I've Moved" program from the service. And to cry just a little bit when the Moth Story of the day was from a woman talking about losing her father and how she and her sisters moved through the grief. 

 Grief is just love with no place to go. -Jamie Anderson

Summer Diet...

No, not calories, social media. 

I think I'm going to go on a social media diet for July and August. I was thinking about it earlier today, it sort of dovetails with the self help book I'm reading for June. I thought about just dropping off completely but I have a friend traveling in July and I would miss her pictures and they are always so cool and colorful and I'd regret not seeing them and she's going to be gone the whole month so I'd just miss her period. So I thought maybe I'd just be a stalker with no interactions. But that seems weird. 

So instead I'm working out a taper in July and then I think maybe a full break in August . Summer vacation. Summer diet. 

Not sure exactly what I'm going to set for parameters, but I've got a few days to lock it down. Right now I'm thinking for July, at least, I will post links to the blog on my Facebook blog page and I will post photos on Instagram. I won't post new content except for the photo links on Facebook, but I will comment on things I'm looking at. Then in August I'm thinking I'll just shut down both programs altogether. I'll keep writing blogs and posting them but you'll have to go to the blog page itself to see new content. Or maybe I'll just repeat the lighter posting from July. 

That's the thought right now anyway. Who knows if I'll follow through or not. 

But I think it feels right to do it. 

I actually thought about just starting right now, but I'm not done with the Pride posts and you know how I am about being a completist. (I've just recently gotten to the point where I can put a fiction book down if it's not enjoyable, and even then I feel a little weird about it.) Especially since it's Pride posting and I also feel like if you know something you should share it. And with all of the bullshit around the LGBTQIA+ community right now I feel an even bigger drive to post something interesting, positive, helpful, supportive, informative, or at least a scream into the void about it this year. 

So instead I'll ruminate for the next ten days, or completely forget until sometime mid July where I'll go...oh that's right I was going to do...

Which is why I'm doing this blog. Write it down, make it stick. Get prepared. All that jazz.

And also because I didn't write yesterday and needed to get something up today, that whole completist thing again. 

So, anyway...I'm thinking about a diet. Seems like a good idea today. But who knows by tomorrow social media might all look like chocolate cake.

Funny, Sort Of...

We were at breakfast this morning and there was an older gentlemen and a younger woman sitting in the booth next to us. When the waitress took their order she also told the gentleman, "Happy Father's Day!" I thought it would be hilarious if he had said, "That's not my daughter, that's my wife." 

As I was telling Brent about it, since he hadn't heard the exchange, he said that she hadn't wished him a happy Father's Day. I told him that's because I look too old and his daughter is in Bend. 

Then I told him but on Mother's Day if we go out people wish me a happy Mother's Day everywhere we go. Because they assume that a woman my age must be a mother. 

Now, I am, so it's not a big deal for me. But not all women are mothers. Some by choice, some by circumstances out of their control. Can you even imagine spending your whole reproductive life trying to have a baby and either not being able to conceive or not being able to carry to term and then people just assuming you were a mother anyway and wishing you a happy day, on what is probably one of the more painful days of the year for you? It would be enough to make you want to lock yourself in your house with no internet for the day.

People just assume I'm a mom but they don't do the same for Brent being a dad. Or they don't think it's as important to Brent as it would be to me. Because being a mother is, obviously, the most important thing to women whereas being a dad is just a side gig to men.

We don't celebrate either Mother's or Father's Day. When our parents were alive we sent gifts back home but once Ann died and we were both adult orphans we were done with that portion of our lives. We don't expect Katie to do anything for us. Part of the reasoning is that it always felt like a Hallmark holiday. Like Valentine's Day which I stopped celebrating years ago as well. I don't want capitalism to dictate my appreciation for the people around me. Tell me you love me every day, not just February 14th. A compliment from my daughter out of the blue means a lot more than a mass produced card in May. 

The other part of the reasoning, at least for Mother's and Father's Day is that Katie didn't have a choice on us becoming parents so why should we expect her to give us gifts because of it? She didn't get to choose her parents. She didn't get to choose to be born. We made all of those decisions. We decided when to have kids, how many kids to have, how we were going to parent them. All of that was us. Not her. She doesn't owe us anything just because she was born.

I hold the same belief around our care when we get older. If we need help taking care of ourselves (heaven forfend) I've told Katie it's okay to put us in a home. She doesn't have to give up her life, or add stress to her life by taking care of us. She doesn't owe us anything. Again, we decide to have a child and to raise a child, she did not. She owes us nothing.

It makes me crazy when people pull that "you owe them" nonsense. They took care of you! They provided you with food, and shelter, and music lessons, and whatever else they want to add to this list. Yeah, they did. By choice. The kind of parent I was or wasn't was all my choice. Nobody owes me anything for that. 

You can choose to take care of a parent. Or to celebrate Mother's and Father's Day. You can make that choice for yourself. But do it because you want to. Not because you feel like you owe it to them. 

And please don't just assume a man of a certain age is a father or a woman a mother. You have no idea if they are or if they aren't and what sort of grief you could be adding to their day.

Understand that to some children with difficult parents or flat out abusive ones it's a complicated day as well. They might still love their parent but they might also not. They might know that they had to make a break because their parent was toxic. Trying to force them to send a card, or make a call, or spend some time with that parent isn't okay. Not for them. Just leave them to manage the day how they see fit. 

Enjoy the day the way you want to, the way you choose to. Either celebrating Father's Day or just a typical Sunday. 

Either way I hope it's a great day for you. Happy Father's day to those that celebrate. Happy Sunday to those that don't. 

BLOCK

This is the wall.

I had sort of thought I might hit it. 

And it makes sense that I hit it today.

Even though the grief isn't the sort of staggering thing it used to be, it's still a part of me. 

And a part of today especially. 

It's been building since May. 

I'll get a little breather in July and then August will come. 

August sucks. 

Or it has.

Maybe this year it will become bearable and maybe someday it will become fun again.

I'm not holding my breath. 

But getting through today, this weekend, that's the next step.

And, like I said, it's not that really heavy grief anymore. It's not the stop and sob kind of grief. The brain fog and can't imagine the next hour let alone the next year sort of grief. 

But it's still here. 

I had gotten to the point where the anniversary of Dad's death wasn't as awful as it had been. That sort of remembrance without too much sorrow moment. 

Then Mom died. 

And suddenly it wasn't her birthday anymore, it was the anniversary of the day she was born. She wasn't getting older. She had stopped. But time keeps going.

She would have been...

It would have been...

We've reached the point where it's no too terrible, and maybe if they weren't together it would be sadish, a good day for memories instead of a little too heavy still. A little too much.

Not staggering. Not overwhelming. 

But not great.

And not good at all for writing. 

So today you got the bricks in my wall.

The heavy things that I cannot move to write something lovely for you.

I knew it was coming. 

I could see it looming. 

Today I hit it. 

Unprecedented....

Unprecedented. We've heard that word so much in the last 7 years or so it's almost lost its meaning. 

This morning they talked about Boris Johnson getting in trouble for the parties he threw during Covid even though it was his own governmental orders that forbade people from throwing parties. He retired to get out of any punishment but if he hadn't they were recommending he be suspended as an MP, which they called unprecedented. A former Prime Minister being suspended as MP. 

This week Trump was arraigned on felony charges. Unprecedented that a former president would be facing criminal charges. 

Unprecedented. 

It's funny in a way. Brexit was my first warning sign that Trump might elected. He and Boris have been tied in my head for a long time and now they are both having unprecedented weeks. 

But the suspension that Johnson was facing was 90 days. Really? Take the summer off and think about what you did? And the judge that Trump pulled for his trial is one of his appointees who has made rulings in his favor before (and so poorly reasoned that the appeals included language that was basically 'are you fucking kidding me?') so I have no reason to believe that he will actually face any consequences. We could have him as the republican candidate in 2024 while either still awaiting trial or having just skated out because the judge said he can do whatever the fuck he wants. 

Which neither of those things is all that unprecedented. 

Rich white guy does horrible shit and gets away with it is kind of the theme of both of our countries. 

I don't really have anything else to add today. Just the news this morning had struck me and the word got stuck in my head. Unprecedented.

I just don't know if you can use that word in relation to Johnson or Trump anymore and have it mean anything. 

They have changed precedent. 

How sad for all of us. 

Life On Earth...

She was old enough that she had watched the last ships leave. 

Her father had taken her to the top of an office building; close enough to see the lift off, far enough away to not get caught in the crowds trying to push their way onto the last shuttles. 

He knew a few things for sure, one was that they were never going to let people like them on the shuttles. Another was that the people who were protecting the shuttle goers from the ever growing crowds were going to be left behind. And when the crowds realized that the last shuttle was gone, and that they had been left to die, they would take their anger out on those guards. 

He had wanted her to see what happened. To fully understand what they were now dealing with. It might have seemed harsh, or inappropriate for a child, but she was still alive and many of her friends weren't. 

"Those men thought that they were in control. They thought that they had power. But once those ships left the power went with them."

They had packed up their things and gone to their house in the mountains and she had thought about those men and that crowd a lot. Why hadn't they realized what her father had? That the people on the ground outnumbered them and would turn on them. Fear wouldn't work anymore to control them because they believed they were already dead. There was nothing left to fear. 

The people who had poisoned the planet had left the rest of them to die with it. 

It was ugly for a very long time. Not just the air and the water. Not just the drowning cities. But the people. Desperate people who believed they were already dead so nothing they did mattered. 

But eventually the people who were left realized they weren't dead. That life had gone on. And not only that but other things were changing as well. 

Once the last ships left, once the violence played itself out, once the world settled down again, well, the world settled down again. Reshaped, for sure, but settled. Towns grew up in new places. Spaces where the land was still healthy. Where things still grew. Where the water could be purified and used. Trading zones opened between towns. I have beans, you have cotton. I have tomatoes, you have the ability to rewire my solar panel. Everything was done by trade. She remembered when money was used for more than decoration or toilet paper (depending on the house) but now goods and services were all that mattered. Money was a difficult thing to explain to those that had been born after the last ships left.

She had lived with her father in the mountains until he had passed, then she had lived there on her own. She visited the towns to trade goods and to talk to people when the craving for company got too great to ignore, but she mainly stayed on her own. 

There had been times early on that they had had to protect their home from the roving bands of the already dead. And then a few more times from those that had decided to live. But now people mostly left her alone. And when they didn't, they soon learned that they should have. 

She sat on her porch eating an apple from her orchard. The sweet juice making her think she would make a pie later. And she wondered about the people on the shuttles. The ones who had poisoned them and then left them to die. The ones who had hired guards to make sure nobody could leave but them. How did they fare? 

When they landed on Saturn's moon. When they got to the newly built colony and it was just them, those that had spent every one of their days before they left Earth depending on others to take care of them. To cook their meals. To water their lawns. To clean their houses. To shoot anyone who dared to try and escape a dying planet. What happened to them? 

She imagined it had been ugly. 

We're All Going to DIE!

No, seriously. We are. 

Just got back from getting our wills updated. With Katie changing her name our wills became outdated. It probably wouldn't have been an issue, she's an only child after all, just would have taken a little more time to get through probate instead of as soon as you have the death certificate you are good to go. But now it's all fixed up and she won't have any issues.

If you don't have a will, get one. 

If you don't have an advanced directive for healthcare, get one. 

If your nearest and dearest don't know what you want as far as funeral, burial, cremation, tell them.

We're all going to die. And when we do, assuming we leave someone behind who loves us, things will suck for them. And suck for them in ways that they won't even understand. And anything you can do to make it easier on them while you are alive you should do. 

Let people know your wishes. Let them know what you want done with your remains. Let them know what you want done with your things. Let them know where the wills are stored. Let them know where the passwords can be found. Let them know all of the important things. Because they will be lost when you die in a way that will make it almost impossible to function. 

But they will have to. And they will, but in a real fog. And then a few years later when the fog lifts they will think, Oh I should have done this or that. But if you have already lined out the big things, if they know what you want done then it won't be as bad. 

It will still suck because they love you and when someone you love dies it sucks. There is nothing you can do about that part. But you can make all the other parts easier. 

If you haven't taken care of these things, do it. 

Get a will.
Get an advanced directive.
Talk to your potential heirs or executors. 
Don't make it harder than it has to be. 

Because we're all going to die. 

Car Repairs...

"So do you think you can fix it? The review on Yelp said you were the best auto body shop in town."

"I like to think so. I say if we can't fix it I don't think anyone could. But this might be a challenge."

"I figured as much. But I can't drive it in the rain if I leave it the way it is, the plastic tarp makes a lot of noise and doesn't really stay down when I'm driving."

"For sure, I get it. But with the hole going through the whole roof like that we might have better luck cutting off the the top and attaching a new roof. Sort of Frankensteining your car. We would need to find the same make and model in the junkyard, cut that off, cut off yours, weld it on, then refinish the joinings, repaint the whole car to match, and reupholster the interior. That's the only way to get a smooth repair."

"What about patching it? Couldn't your just like weld a new piece in place or something? Or fill it with bondo?"

"I don't think you'd like the look of it if we tried to do the patch. And you can't bondo a hole like that. Bondo is for small areas, dents that need filled. Without a bottom the plug wouldn't stick."

"I don't care as much about looks as I do function. I just need it stop leaking. If you can weld a piece in like a patch and if that would be less expensive than a whole new top I'd really like to do that."

"How about selling it?"

"What? Who is going to buy it like this?"

"I happen to know a collector. I think this piece would be right up his alley."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, now, if you still have the...damaging piece in your possession you could get top dollar from him."

"He'd want that?"

"He'd want that most of all. In fact if we were to put it back in the hole when he came to look at it that would be best. I can arrange for him to come look."

"And what would you get out of the deal?"

"Let's say 10% of what he offers you?"

"Do you think that would leave me enough to buy another used car?"

"I think if you have the damaging piece, and we put it back before he comes to look, we could get you enough to buy a new car. Or two."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, he's serious about his collections."

"What all does he have?"

"Last I checked? A stuffed chupacabra, a mirror that reflected Bloody Mary, a video of a disappearing hitchhiker..."

"But how does he know all of those things are real?"

"He's got a monkey's paw."

"Wow..."

"Okay, yeah, I've still got it, it's actually in the trunk, give him a call."

"And you might want to write down your story, just so he can have that as well. I don't know that he'll need it as I assume it's the basic one, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much the same story. Parked back in the woods to fool around a little, heard on the radio that a serial killer had escaped from the local asylum, nasty details about how he slashed his victims up with the hook he had for a hand, we heard a thump and took off only to find his hook lodged in the roof of the car when we got back to the city."

"You never think it's going to happen to you, but here you are."

"Ain't that the truth?" 

____________________

Writing prompt: Base a story off of an Urban Legend

Praise Be...

I write about this a lot. I know that. But it's because it's one of my biggest frustrations. 

I am not religious. I used to be religious. I used to be really fluent in that language but I've forgotten a lot of it now. Which is good. The more I forget the more it shows I don't have to deal with it. 

But I haven't forgotten all of it because I am still dealing with it. 

All the time. 

Especially around this time of year with Pride celebrations and posts. People want to quote bible verses like that means something. I used to say I'd quote Harry Potter back to them and we'd both be talking fantasy but I need to pick a new book. 

I also get really frustrated with the assumption that if I'm not respectful of your religion that's hateful, but you not being respectful of my beliefs is just fine...because that's your religion. So...

It's a fucking trap. 

Pat Robertson is dead. The strongest emotion I have about it is that it's about fucking time. (quick aside, Wil Wheaton just posted a bit of what he called fanfic about it on his Facebook page, and it's brilliant)

Pat Robertson was hateful. Hate filled. Hate fueling. 

He was sitting at the table Jesus would have flipped. Selling prayers and miracle healings and nonsense. 

He made false predictions (SO many false prophecies came out of his mouth).

He was vile.

And yet...

Now that he has died we are somehow supposed to be reverent when we speak of him. To talk about differences in opinions. To worry that someone who cared for him might be further hurt by hearing something bad about him. And doesn't it make us just a bad as he was if we say something hateful about him?

No, no it doesn't. 

When someone lives their lives making things worse for others. Clearing a path of righteous persecution. Spouting hateful rhetoric toward groups of people. Talking about god's wrath on them. Well...when that's how they lived you get to say that when they died. 

Don't live your life in a hateful manner if you don't want people to be hate filled toward you. 

And don't quote your book of convenient cherry picking to validate or justify what he said and did. He was vile. He was horrible. He was a blight on society. The fact that people have followed him and listened to him and believed him has been to the detriment of us all. He is part of why we are in such terrible shape as a country. Why we are so divided. Because he sowed that divide. He othered and less thaned his way through entire groups. 

The god he worshiped was the god of money and power. He had both in his life. And it was a crying shame. 

It was about fucking time. 

Key Change!

Dana sent me a song this morning. Same artist singing just done two different ways. By slowing down the tempo it totally changed the song. Made the lyrics do the lifting. And it was amazing. (right until he started yelling at me, but isn't that just life?)

Anyway...

I love that. Not the yelling, never the yelling, but when a song is changed around and it totally changes the feel of it. Doing it in a minor key instead of major. Slowing the tempo down completely. Adding an orchestra. It always completely changes the dynamic of the song. And sometimes it doesn't work at all. But sometimes it really does. 

Taylor Swift music lends itself to this really well. The songs go from sort of sticky sweet to really full of dread and menace. The lyrics were always there, but man, when the tone changes the message changes a lot. 

I was thinking this is like a plot twist in a book. You are going along happily minding your own business humming merrily about having a blank space to write someone's name as a new relationship starts when suddenly you are growling about having a blank space to write someone's name and you are now a potential serial killer...

PLOT TWIST!

KEY CHANGE!

TEMPO ADJUST!

No wonder I love it. 

I love when everything has always been right there but you didn't see it. Not until the twist. And then BOOM it's all different. Every meaning, every line, every bit of it is pointing in a different direction. You just didn't see it before. 

And if there hadn't been that one moment, that one turn, you never would have. You always would have thought it was the other thing. 

But that key change? That tempo shift? Suddenly it's a whole new song you are singing and you are in a whole new world of emotions. 

It makes me happy. 

And also leads me down a rabbit hole of listening to songs like that apparently...

Enjoy your day! I hope it has all the twists and key changes you long for!

Listen!

Last week while I was working out I was thinking about how I was going to change my June routine. I was thinking I need to look at some more core work but also I really should be adding in some flexibility and balance items. It's so important as you age to make sure you are doing balance work and flexibility work. It's crazy how much you lose as you age. And if you aren't fighting against the loss it gets to be really bad. 

I have not been great about fighting against those things. I've never been flexible so that work is hard. And balance work can be boring. And since I've been skipping on it, it's now boring and hard. Which means I don't waaaaannnnnna....

But last week thinking about workouts and I know I need to add those elements in. 

Sunday rolls around and I am setting up my program for the next month. We are also catching up on some TV shows so instead of breaking things back down I pulled up a former cycle and just clicked do this again. Perfect. Three days of weights, three days of cardio, switching back to doing full body weights instead of each day one body part. Bada bing bada boom. Done. 

And you are saying, wait, where's the core work? The flexibility? The balance? 

Shhh...can't hear you, I'm finishing out The Big Door Prize and I need to focus to see if it's going to start making sense...

This morning I am getting ready to workout and I pull up the iFit program that I use on the treadmill for my cardio sessions. I have a vague memory that the 6th part of this challenge I'm in the middle of won't have all week to finish, only a few days, so I need to check that out and make sure I have time to finish. Pull it up and it's not a treadmill workout this week, it's two mat workouts. 

Boo.

And I close the program and try to decide how to handle that. I mean, I want that 6th week. Give me my gold star. But it's not the cardio that I use it for so it's kind of worthless. I could run it in the background while I walk, that kind of counts. Or just deal with the skip and take it as a sign from the Universe that I shouldn't be so reliant on iFit gold stars. Or...wait.

Open the program again. The first one is a yoga flow workout. Oh. Or I could take it as a sign from the Universe that I need to be LISTENING and add back in that core, flexibility and balance work I said I needed to do. 

I've had a couple of reminders from the Universe lately. One that something I did was the right choice for exactly the reasons I thought it would be, one that I'm still not really paying attention to places I should be and a few just pokes in the side...hey! remember me! remember this! 

Hopefully I can spend the summer paying attention to those moments instead of dismissing them and regretting it. 

And in case you needed it, here is your reminder from the Universe. Take care of yourself. Do the things you need to do to bring you health. Mental, physical, emotional. It's all a giant package of you. Do those good things for yourself. Even if you need an extra push to get it going. 

Closet Doors...

Her eyes sprung open. Wide awake. Disoriented for a moment. What woke her? 

She looked around the room in a panic. Did she hear a noise? An echo of a noise?

She could almost imagine it. What had woken her up. There had been a scratching. Or a creaking. Or...

She looked toward the closet doors. Was that a crack? She was sure she had closed them before she went to bed. She never slept with them open. She couldn't. Not since she was a child. She knew it was ridiculous. The fear of the thing in the closet, but she still couldn't sleep with them open. Not ever.

But that was a crack. 

For sure that was a crack.

She sat up in bed now staring at the door. Would it open more? 

Probably not. Not while she was awake and watching. 

She'd have to get out of bed and take care of it. 

There was no way she'd be able to get back to sleep with the door cracked open. 

But that meant leaving her warm bed. Her safety nest of pillows and blankets. Walking across the chilly room to get to the closet. 

Putting her foot on the floor next to her bed. 

Which she also didn't normally do at night. 

She stared at the door. The crack hadn't opened wider had it? Surely not while she was laying there looking at it. 

Now her imagination would run away with her so she had to take care of it. 

She carefully slide one leg out from under the blankets putting her foot on the floor.

Listening closely for any sounds. 

The other foot followed and she slowly walked toward the closet.

She walked as quietly as she could. Almost sneaking up on the door. 

She reached the door and stood listening for a moment then flung the door open reaching in and pulling the chain on the light at the same time. 

Nothing. 

She sighed and softly laughed to herself. Silly. She was so silly.  Of course there was nothing there to be afraid of, not since she was a child. 

She shut the door and went back to bed. 

Her breathing got deeper and more rhythmic as sleep came for her again. 

Slowly, softly, carefully the thing under the bed pulled itself out and across the floor. Moving as quietly as it could toward the closet. Hoping again that maybe tonight, tonight would be the night they could escape. They had been trapped here since the thing in the bed was a little girl. Even with broken legs and mangled wings they had tried.

Their family in the closet opening the door for them just a little bit, enough to let them know they hadn't forgotten them. 

Please let it be tonight...

Main Character Energy...

A friend of mine posted a funny meme this week. "It's fine that I'm the villain in your story, you're the clown in mine."

It made me snort laugh. 

You cannot dictate who you are in someone else's story. Sometimes it lines up, I imagine that who I think I am in Brent's story is pretty accurate. But I've had moments of complete confusion when other people talk about me. 

I've told the story about our 10 year high school reunion. Being in the bathroom and having a woman screw up all of her courage to tell me how miserable I had made her during high school. How awful I was to her. I was shocked. Because I had no idea who she was. None. Not a flicker of recognition at all. My friends that were there that night didn't recognize her name either. None of us had any idea who she was. But I was the high school villain in her story. I've sort of settled on it must have been a case of mistaken identity. She must have thought I was someone else. My name tag was low on my hip so not easy to find, I could have looked like someone else. That's where I landed because I cannot fathom being so awful to someone and having zero memory of it.

If I make you miserable I want to know I did it with intention.

I'm fine being the villain in your story. I just need to have done it with a plan. 

Villains get the best lines. They get the best clothes. It's hard to write a good hero story without a good villain. A good villain can take a story that you already know and make you think about it. Let's go to Marvel movies for a second, Killmonger was a great villain. Because he was the hero in his own story. And his motivations made sense. You could definitely think that if you met Killmonger before The Black Panther you would agree Killmonger was the hero and The Black Panther was the villain. That's a great villain.

The difference between a good and great villain is main character energy. If you met the villain first would you think they were the hero? Do you understand their motivation? Could you see yourself agreeing with them? Or if not agreeing at least understanding? 

How about the flip? Would your heros still be heroic if they had just one little tweak?

Again, I'll talk comic book characters. Imagine if Superman had landed in Russia, or if Wonder Woman had met a German Soldier first. I mean I'm sure there are alternate world comics with just that happening. Would they have fought for The Soviet Union? For the Nazis? Was it just a case of who they found first that made them our heroes instead of our villains?

I'll ground it a little. Years ago I was exposed to the idea that who you are is mainly determined by an accident of your birth. I am who I am because my parents were in the United States, specifically in New Mexico, when I was born. My language, my culture and my religious background are all influenced by that. You think of a lot of things that define you as these big great immovable things, but really they are accidents of your birth. You had no choice or decision in who you were born to or where you were when you were born. But it shapes everything about you. 

Americans (I think) suffer from this hero mentality around being American. We think, and are taught, that the United States is different than other places. That we are the world's hero. That we make it better. But once you start talking to people in other parts of the world that doesn't always hold true. We are often the villains in their story. And sometimes the clowns. 

But Americans (the fact that we call ourselves American and expect the rest of North America, and all of South and Central America to just cede it to us is point #1) hold on to this American Exceptionalism ideal. And it can take different people in to some really twisty spaces. The LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT crowd. The ones that attach a lot to the idea of being an American that really doesn't belong there. It becomes their whole character arc. 

But are they heroes? Or villains? Or clowns? 

Depends on who is telling the story. 

I'm fine being the villain in the story. I love a good villain. But I am a villain with strong main character energy. It depends on what point in your own story that you meet me on how you feel about it. 

(now imagine me whooshing out of the room with a sharp turn on my heel and flare of a jet black cloak)