Inspiration has been sparse lately. I wrote this walking to my Doog's house one day last month and I wasn't planning on posting it. As you can tell, I'm not a poet.
You poor October tree.
Withered and dry, your vitality
Stolen, once so tall and strong,
Brittle.
Tightened.
Once reaching up now recoiling.
Shivering against the cold.
Shrinking back,
Crying and creaking its tired bones.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Short Story - Haunting and Celebration
Ladies and Gentlemen! Nanowrimo is here and I haven't done a thing for it. I was looking forward to it for so long, but here it is, November 4th, and I haven't even begun. I haven't built a plot line, I haven't designed a main character, I haven't done anything. Maybe this year just isn't going to happen. Or maybe I've just become so preoccupied with blogging about women's rights that I haven't had much time to think of much else. Most likely, I am making excuses for myself and I'm just incredibly lazy.
In any case, in honour of all of the true writers out there, I'm posting my rejected short story for Asimov's Science Fiction for you all to enjoy. But let me warn you, it is a piece of work that is entirely self-gratifying and has very little literal value. But if you were a Bradbury fan, you may like it.
In any case, in honour of all of the true writers out there, I'm posting my rejected short story for Asimov's Science Fiction for you all to enjoy. But let me warn you, it is a piece of work that is entirely self-gratifying and has very little literal value. But if you were a Bradbury fan, you may like it.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Adultlescence: Let This be a Lesson to You.
Every weekday, at precisely 12:20pm, the kids from a nearby junior high school flood my restaurant like a plague. They aren't bad kids at heart. Not really. Their hour out of class for lunch is their first taste of unsupervised freedom and they don't know how to handle it yet. They yell and throw things and make a mess because no one is there to tell them not to. Sure, we have our own management hierarchy in the store, but what 12 year old is impressed by a polyester tie?
I must seem absolutely ridiculous to them. Which is fair. But little boy, when I am telling you off for grabbing a girl your age and holding her against her will, I am not scolding you as an authority figure. I am yelling at you as one pissed off person to another who has done something wrong. I don't care who you are, how old you are, who your parents are, or what colour your skin is. I am not going to stand idly by and watch a girl be physically harrassed.
"It was just a joke. We're just playing." he says to me. Oh? And what part of this is funny? No, dear child, this is no joke. What this little boy is doing is teaching this girl why it is right to be afraid. She is obviously unable to get free of him, but he is a friend, right? He wouldn't really hurt her, right? All of her friends are looking at them and laughing. Yeah, maybe it is scary, but maybe she's just being sensitive. She shouldn't cause a scene. She shouldn't speak up or tell him no. Everyone is just having a good time. She should just play along. Ha ha ha.
Maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe I'm projecting my own feelings on two completely innocent children. What what if I'm right, though? What if that little girl was afraid and needed someone to speak up for her because she felt like she couldn't?
Does that seem like a big deal to you? Two kids 'playing' in the lobby. Would you have said anything? Or would you have let kids be kids? This aggressive behavior toward women isn't something that boys are born with, it is something they learn from watching adults. (Hey, that's us!)
Men, sure, I can't hold it against you that you are the way you are. Girls are no better. In some ways we're worse, but that is a long-winded discussion for another day. You are who you are, and I don't expect you to change because a girl on the internet told you to. Just for a second, put yourself in that girl's father's shoes. Is that how you would want your daughter to be treated? Your sister? Your mother, bless that saint? And what if you are partially to blame for it happening? Monkey see, monkey do, and these little monkeys need a proper example set for them.
In my last post, I tried to call out my fellow ladies to stand up for themselves and each other, but men, this is for you. We can't do it alone. It is one thing for me to stand up to some school bully, and I can only hope it is a start in many steps that boy needs to take to understand gender equality, but I wasn't alone in that building. What about you, gentlemen? If you don't start standing up for what is right, us girls are going to have a much harder uphill battle. I'm not asking you to put yourself at risk, like jumping between a rapist and his victim or something. That's just damned crazy, don't get yourself killed. Just call the cops. But just think about it. Every time you laugh at a joke about women, you're laughing at your mother, your aunt, your sister, your niece. These are the situations where you gentlemen could save us a lot of grief. Show those jerks giving your gender a bad name what's what. Tell them it isn't funny. Or Hell, just don't laugh. Don't encourage them.
Set the example, be the gentleman. Help us to succeed.
I must seem absolutely ridiculous to them. Which is fair. But little boy, when I am telling you off for grabbing a girl your age and holding her against her will, I am not scolding you as an authority figure. I am yelling at you as one pissed off person to another who has done something wrong. I don't care who you are, how old you are, who your parents are, or what colour your skin is. I am not going to stand idly by and watch a girl be physically harrassed.
"It was just a joke. We're just playing." he says to me. Oh? And what part of this is funny? No, dear child, this is no joke. What this little boy is doing is teaching this girl why it is right to be afraid. She is obviously unable to get free of him, but he is a friend, right? He wouldn't really hurt her, right? All of her friends are looking at them and laughing. Yeah, maybe it is scary, but maybe she's just being sensitive. She shouldn't cause a scene. She shouldn't speak up or tell him no. Everyone is just having a good time. She should just play along. Ha ha ha.
Maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe I'm projecting my own feelings on two completely innocent children. What what if I'm right, though? What if that little girl was afraid and needed someone to speak up for her because she felt like she couldn't?
Does that seem like a big deal to you? Two kids 'playing' in the lobby. Would you have said anything? Or would you have let kids be kids? This aggressive behavior toward women isn't something that boys are born with, it is something they learn from watching adults. (Hey, that's us!)
Men, sure, I can't hold it against you that you are the way you are. Girls are no better. In some ways we're worse, but that is a long-winded discussion for another day. You are who you are, and I don't expect you to change because a girl on the internet told you to. Just for a second, put yourself in that girl's father's shoes. Is that how you would want your daughter to be treated? Your sister? Your mother, bless that saint? And what if you are partially to blame for it happening? Monkey see, monkey do, and these little monkeys need a proper example set for them.
In my last post, I tried to call out my fellow ladies to stand up for themselves and each other, but men, this is for you. We can't do it alone. It is one thing for me to stand up to some school bully, and I can only hope it is a start in many steps that boy needs to take to understand gender equality, but I wasn't alone in that building. What about you, gentlemen? If you don't start standing up for what is right, us girls are going to have a much harder uphill battle. I'm not asking you to put yourself at risk, like jumping between a rapist and his victim or something. That's just damned crazy, don't get yourself killed. Just call the cops. But just think about it. Every time you laugh at a joke about women, you're laughing at your mother, your aunt, your sister, your niece. These are the situations where you gentlemen could save us a lot of grief. Show those jerks giving your gender a bad name what's what. Tell them it isn't funny. Or Hell, just don't laugh. Don't encourage them.
Set the example, be the gentleman. Help us to succeed.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Adultlescence: Top Gun Reference
Today, I read this blog post. I have been debating on writing about this for a while, but I always have such a weird, backward time trying to explain my thoughts on the matter. I flip flop over insignificant details depending on my mood or the context. Some days I feel traditional, some days I'm liberal. Some days I feel like a hardcore feminazi bull dyke. Other days I can't stop fantasizing about being someone's little housewife. So you can see how it can be difficult to express my opinion. "All women should be treated like A, except in situations like B, C, or D." What I can say for certain is that yes, in my experience, every girl has felt the way the author of that post has felt. Threatened, objectified, used, powerless.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have a lot of control issues. I don't necessarily want to be in charge of everything all the time, but I need to know all of the gritty details about any plan or I am working at a high stress level. I don't need to be in command of the group, but I need to have full control on my own part. No big deal, right? Since I surround myself primarily with men, it is fairly common that I will go with the flow of whatever they want to do that day. If they want to play Rock Band all afternoon, that's no problem. I'm playing the drums and don't try to take them from me. But what about those instances where I don't have the same kind of weight as the man I'm speaking with? How many times have I, or one of my female employees had some dirty old man say something slightly sleazy and I or she would laugh uncomfortably and excuse herself from his company as quickly as possible? And what else can you do, really? Women are told very young to be agreeable, quiet, polite. Girls are told to be nice, but boys will be boys.
The problem, I think, is that right now, the feminist movement has been taking the wrong approach to making the changes they want to see happen. Women are not equal because we are better. I've always thought that was a ridiculous argument to take. Yes, childbirth (I've heard) is incredibly excruciating. A pain no man could ever really understand. Periods happen every month and there are days I think I may never be able to walk upright again, but you move on. Let's face it, girls have it pretty shitty. I know I'll never truly understand the feeling of getting kicked in the balls, but my roommate will never fathom what it's like to wake up in the morning on the first day of 'shark week' and have muscle cramps from the middle of your back down to your knees. God, just look at the difference between sexes when they have a head cold. It is a woman's role to silently persevere.
Now is the part of the blog post where I become the uppity bitch I supposedly am for thinking this in the first place and I give all the dumb little ladies a mental shake-down (sorry, boys). It is not your job to be polite when a man is making you uncomfortable. It is not right, when a guy is pressing you too hard about going on a date with him and you are uncomfortable, to give him an excuse instead of telling him straight that you don't want to. If a man is out of line, you let him know and you let him know immediately. Ladies, let's get real here for a second. Let's have a life talk. Nothing is ever going to change if you don't speak up.I'm not going to stop shaving my legs or start burning bras, that phase of the evolution of women's rights has passed. Now is the time for us to settle this matter as adults. Once and for all.
But ladies, what is it that we are asking for? If we are trying to send a message to those big, mean boys, can we first agree on what that message is? We are telling (asking) them how to behave and what is acceptable when we can't clearly decide unanimously what they can't (shouldn't) do and what is unacceptable. I can't decide which is worse for women, the Nazi man-haters who will hate on the young women who choose to explore their right to sexual freedom, or the slutty bimbos who make girls looks like objects in the eyes of all of those chauvenist pigs.
We come in all shapes, sizes and colours. We may be cis or transgendered, gay, straight, bi or asexual, but we are all women. We share each others pain and celebrate each others achievements. We're all fighting the same fight, here. We're on the same team.
I could easily get off-topic here and begin a long-winded tangent about all of the horrible things girls do to each other and how hateful we can be to one another, but that isn't the direction I want to go with this. I don't want to point fingers or dwell on the negatives. If you really want to know why girls hate each other, check out this video by Jenna Marbles. She is totally on the right page.
So this is what it has to come down to, ladies. If we want to take down the patriarch, we have to support each other. If you don't want to be promiscuous, you don't have to. If you don't want to put on make up or style your hair every day, then use those extra moments to sleep in. Enjoy it! If you want to dress up every day and wear your heels wherever you go, you rock those shoes, girl. But remember, my dear, darling girls, that is your choice to make. It is the same choice every girl makes and just because it isn't what YOU choose, she isn't wrong. We need to create a united front if we are ever going to make progress. We need to have each others backs. Honestly, if we are ever going to fight against men, we need to stop fighting over them.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have a lot of control issues. I don't necessarily want to be in charge of everything all the time, but I need to know all of the gritty details about any plan or I am working at a high stress level. I don't need to be in command of the group, but I need to have full control on my own part. No big deal, right? Since I surround myself primarily with men, it is fairly common that I will go with the flow of whatever they want to do that day. If they want to play Rock Band all afternoon, that's no problem. I'm playing the drums and don't try to take them from me. But what about those instances where I don't have the same kind of weight as the man I'm speaking with? How many times have I, or one of my female employees had some dirty old man say something slightly sleazy and I or she would laugh uncomfortably and excuse herself from his company as quickly as possible? And what else can you do, really? Women are told very young to be agreeable, quiet, polite. Girls are told to be nice, but boys will be boys.
The problem, I think, is that right now, the feminist movement has been taking the wrong approach to making the changes they want to see happen. Women are not equal because we are better. I've always thought that was a ridiculous argument to take. Yes, childbirth (I've heard) is incredibly excruciating. A pain no man could ever really understand. Periods happen every month and there are days I think I may never be able to walk upright again, but you move on. Let's face it, girls have it pretty shitty. I know I'll never truly understand the feeling of getting kicked in the balls, but my roommate will never fathom what it's like to wake up in the morning on the first day of 'shark week' and have muscle cramps from the middle of your back down to your knees. God, just look at the difference between sexes when they have a head cold. It is a woman's role to silently persevere.
Now is the part of the blog post where I become the uppity bitch I supposedly am for thinking this in the first place and I give all the dumb little ladies a mental shake-down (sorry, boys). It is not your job to be polite when a man is making you uncomfortable. It is not right, when a guy is pressing you too hard about going on a date with him and you are uncomfortable, to give him an excuse instead of telling him straight that you don't want to. If a man is out of line, you let him know and you let him know immediately. Ladies, let's get real here for a second. Let's have a life talk. Nothing is ever going to change if you don't speak up.I'm not going to stop shaving my legs or start burning bras, that phase of the evolution of women's rights has passed. Now is the time for us to settle this matter as adults. Once and for all.
But ladies, what is it that we are asking for? If we are trying to send a message to those big, mean boys, can we first agree on what that message is? We are telling (asking) them how to behave and what is acceptable when we can't clearly decide unanimously what they can't (shouldn't) do and what is unacceptable. I can't decide which is worse for women, the Nazi man-haters who will hate on the young women who choose to explore their right to sexual freedom, or the slutty bimbos who make girls looks like objects in the eyes of all of those chauvenist pigs.
We come in all shapes, sizes and colours. We may be cis or transgendered, gay, straight, bi or asexual, but we are all women. We share each others pain and celebrate each others achievements. We're all fighting the same fight, here. We're on the same team.
I could easily get off-topic here and begin a long-winded tangent about all of the horrible things girls do to each other and how hateful we can be to one another, but that isn't the direction I want to go with this. I don't want to point fingers or dwell on the negatives. If you really want to know why girls hate each other, check out this video by Jenna Marbles. She is totally on the right page.
So this is what it has to come down to, ladies. If we want to take down the patriarch, we have to support each other. If you don't want to be promiscuous, you don't have to. If you don't want to put on make up or style your hair every day, then use those extra moments to sleep in. Enjoy it! If you want to dress up every day and wear your heels wherever you go, you rock those shoes, girl. But remember, my dear, darling girls, that is your choice to make. It is the same choice every girl makes and just because it isn't what YOU choose, she isn't wrong. We need to create a united front if we are ever going to make progress. We need to have each others backs. Honestly, if we are ever going to fight against men, we need to stop fighting over them.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Adultlesence: Nerd.
Sometimes I get the odd chance to act a little recklessly. I'm not a misreable old lady every day and I love using my chances to be impulsive to their maximum extent. That's why I'm looking forward to Hal-con so much this year. I'm going to be cosplaying as Lady Deadpool which means, for those of you out there whoaren't fluent in geek speak, I'll be wearing a full face mask while I'm in costume.
Have you ever been to one of these nerd conventions? You put as many people who are genuinely passionate about the same things into a room as possible, and add caffeine. Normally, North Americans are very reserved when it comes to physical interactions, but these rules do not apply at a convention. When you're there, you should be expecting a lot of high fives, hugs, handshakes, fist bumps, and the classic awkward half-hug for pictures.You should expect to get touched. For a nerd, this is just an outlet to express their passion about their fandom. It can be overwhelming. I think that's why nerds get belittled by the rest of the world. We have no social propriety when it comes to, say, our favourite TV show (Firefly! <3). We whoop and shout and squeal like children over something most people would consider trivial. I think that they're just jealous, though. They walk with their heads held high with uptight reservation, but we skip everywhere we go and we high five strangers in the street because we like that person's X-Men t-shirt.
"I like your Jersey Shore shirt!" Said no one ever.
I don't like to wear my Green Lantern ring to work so much anymore. When random customers come in and comment on it, I feel awkward. I don't know what to say. Did you like the movie? I don't know! Its a weird interaction and I'd rather just avoid it than have it. I love my Green Lantern ring! I wear it everywhere I go, regardless of forced awkward small talk. It makes me feel like a super hero, which can be pretty uplifting when one is sitting in ones pajamas at 2:30 in the morning on a Sunday night.
Maybe, briefly, while I am disguised in full costume with my face hidden, I can be so stupefied by the things that I love so much. I don't have to make tedious small talk with a stranger for a prolonged period of time because I wanted to compliment their costume. Fuck that, they don't know me! I run over, say whatever I want to say to them, and run away. I don't have to be polite when they don't know who I am, just in case I ever meet them again. I can be completely bonkers and make an ass of myself like I always do, but on such a grander scale. Without pedantic rituals of etiquette, I can be 100% myself as I want to behave with minimal consequence. And what's more, its encouraged! This is part of the fun of being at a convention and I will be one of just many dancing, yelling jesters in the court.
If you're going to be in Halifax next weekend and want to check out what I mean, come visit me at Hal-Con!
Have you ever been to one of these nerd conventions? You put as many people who are genuinely passionate about the same things into a room as possible, and add caffeine. Normally, North Americans are very reserved when it comes to physical interactions, but these rules do not apply at a convention. When you're there, you should be expecting a lot of high fives, hugs, handshakes, fist bumps, and the classic awkward half-hug for pictures.You should expect to get touched. For a nerd, this is just an outlet to express their passion about their fandom. It can be overwhelming. I think that's why nerds get belittled by the rest of the world. We have no social propriety when it comes to, say, our favourite TV show (Firefly! <3). We whoop and shout and squeal like children over something most people would consider trivial. I think that they're just jealous, though. They walk with their heads held high with uptight reservation, but we skip everywhere we go and we high five strangers in the street because we like that person's X-Men t-shirt.
"I like your Jersey Shore shirt!" Said no one ever.
I don't like to wear my Green Lantern ring to work so much anymore. When random customers come in and comment on it, I feel awkward. I don't know what to say. Did you like the movie? I don't know! Its a weird interaction and I'd rather just avoid it than have it. I love my Green Lantern ring! I wear it everywhere I go, regardless of forced awkward small talk. It makes me feel like a super hero, which can be pretty uplifting when one is sitting in ones pajamas at 2:30 in the morning on a Sunday night.
Maybe, briefly, while I am disguised in full costume with my face hidden, I can be so stupefied by the things that I love so much. I don't have to make tedious small talk with a stranger for a prolonged period of time because I wanted to compliment their costume. Fuck that, they don't know me! I run over, say whatever I want to say to them, and run away. I don't have to be polite when they don't know who I am, just in case I ever meet them again. I can be completely bonkers and make an ass of myself like I always do, but on such a grander scale. Without pedantic rituals of etiquette, I can be 100% myself as I want to behave with minimal consequence. And what's more, its encouraged! This is part of the fun of being at a convention and I will be one of just many dancing, yelling jesters in the court.
If you're going to be in Halifax next weekend and want to check out what I mean, come visit me at Hal-Con!
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Adultlescence: My Father has Doomed Me
My father will always baby me. To him, I will always be that chubby, awkward little girl I used to be. When i was a teenager, this was a punishment for being born last. Mom understood that I was growing up, why couldn't he? He would dote on me like a child, bringing me home stuffed animals and small gifts "just because". He still does from time to time, but when I was in my teens, I was embarrassed. Doesn't that sound arrogant? I was embarrassed by my father's affection.
Now that I am officially a 'grown up' I really can't get enough of it. I relish it whenever I am visiting with my parents. I am 23 years old and my dad still cooks me breakfast. There is nothing as comforting as a grilled cheese at 8pm.
My daddy was my idol. Don't get me wrong, my mother is my best friend and I love her dearly, but she was the hand of authority in our home and dad lucked out. He got to be the fun parent. the relationship I have with him as never been tainted. To him, I am still a little fairy princess and when I'm home with him, I am one.
I am, in that when I am home, I can step back from my big girl life and see how far I've come. The buildings in my home town change, businesses open and close, but it is at the heart still the same Westville I grew up in. Faces gather lines, but the smiles are still the same. I haven't changed so much either and Westville really shows it to me. I lost 50 pounds and a tooth, but essentially I am still the same girl, just with a little alteration to the luggage.
The reason I am so comforted by this isn't because I'm scared or unwilling to grow up. On the contrary, it is the reason I want to. Some day I'll decide to get married, and I feel very sorry for the person stuck with me because they have some very big shoes to fill. My parents have given me very high expectations in what to look for in a partner, because I won't accept anything less than a love like that. I am not perfect (let's face it, who of us is?) but my flaws are a part of me and he loves everything about me as a fraction of a whole. Every time I royally fuck up (infrequent, but on a grand scale. Every time.) he never judges me. He picks me up, wipes away my tears, kisses my forehead and assures me that everything will be alright. To say that to him, I do no wrong would be inaccurate. I do get it wrong a lot. I make the wrong choices. I say or do the wrong thing. I do mess up, but it is all forgivable.
The person I am to be with forever must be, above all else, kind. If there is one thing my father has taught me, it is that kindness and generosity are their own reward. Nothing feels as good as helping someone in need. When I am asked to describe my dad to someone, the first thing that comes to mind is his big heart. He may be quiet or standoffish when he first meets a person, but he loves everyone he meets. It takes a lot to change his mind and even after he does, if that person is in a bind, my dad is the first one to offer a hand. When I was a kid, I just accepted it as a fact of humanity. If my daddy was this sweet, everyone is supposed to be. Turns out no. My father is the only person I have ever met with such an eager desire to be selfless, without want or expectation of reward.
I could fall flat on my face every day of my life, and he would still be proud of me, but he has this certain way about him that makes me want to give him good reason to be proud. Even though my parents are 100 miles away and probably have no idea what I am doing at any given time (thank God for Facebook) I still consider them in virtually every decision I make day to day. Would my dad be proud of me for doing this? What would he say if I did this? That isn't to say that in my line of work I am faced daily with dangerous or moral decisions. It is much more simplistic than that. Should I be selfish with my time, or should I use it to help a friend who needs a favour? Always go with helping a friend. Would it be a bad idea to have another beer. Probably.
No one I have ever been with since I decided dating was a cool and fun thing to do has ever been able to stand up to the ridiculously high standards my father has set for me. Kindness, loyalty, humor, unwavering optimism. Sure, my lovers will embody some or most of these qualities. It is what attracts me to them in the first place. The key, I think, is the quality of love that I expect from them. I want someone who will (because I know they will) make my blood boil the way my Dad can to Mom, and forgive them for it just like she always does because love is so much stronger than hate or anger. I need someone who understands my moods the way my father can look at my mother and know what she's feeling just by her face. Sure, he may not always do exactly the right thing, but he does it with the best of intentions. I want a love like that.
Now that I am officially a 'grown up' I really can't get enough of it. I relish it whenever I am visiting with my parents. I am 23 years old and my dad still cooks me breakfast. There is nothing as comforting as a grilled cheese at 8pm.
My daddy was my idol. Don't get me wrong, my mother is my best friend and I love her dearly, but she was the hand of authority in our home and dad lucked out. He got to be the fun parent. the relationship I have with him as never been tainted. To him, I am still a little fairy princess and when I'm home with him, I am one.
I am, in that when I am home, I can step back from my big girl life and see how far I've come. The buildings in my home town change, businesses open and close, but it is at the heart still the same Westville I grew up in. Faces gather lines, but the smiles are still the same. I haven't changed so much either and Westville really shows it to me. I lost 50 pounds and a tooth, but essentially I am still the same girl, just with a little alteration to the luggage.
The reason I am so comforted by this isn't because I'm scared or unwilling to grow up. On the contrary, it is the reason I want to. Some day I'll decide to get married, and I feel very sorry for the person stuck with me because they have some very big shoes to fill. My parents have given me very high expectations in what to look for in a partner, because I won't accept anything less than a love like that. I am not perfect (let's face it, who of us is?) but my flaws are a part of me and he loves everything about me as a fraction of a whole. Every time I royally fuck up (infrequent, but on a grand scale. Every time.) he never judges me. He picks me up, wipes away my tears, kisses my forehead and assures me that everything will be alright. To say that to him, I do no wrong would be inaccurate. I do get it wrong a lot. I make the wrong choices. I say or do the wrong thing. I do mess up, but it is all forgivable.
The person I am to be with forever must be, above all else, kind. If there is one thing my father has taught me, it is that kindness and generosity are their own reward. Nothing feels as good as helping someone in need. When I am asked to describe my dad to someone, the first thing that comes to mind is his big heart. He may be quiet or standoffish when he first meets a person, but he loves everyone he meets. It takes a lot to change his mind and even after he does, if that person is in a bind, my dad is the first one to offer a hand. When I was a kid, I just accepted it as a fact of humanity. If my daddy was this sweet, everyone is supposed to be. Turns out no. My father is the only person I have ever met with such an eager desire to be selfless, without want or expectation of reward.
I could fall flat on my face every day of my life, and he would still be proud of me, but he has this certain way about him that makes me want to give him good reason to be proud. Even though my parents are 100 miles away and probably have no idea what I am doing at any given time (thank God for Facebook) I still consider them in virtually every decision I make day to day. Would my dad be proud of me for doing this? What would he say if I did this? That isn't to say that in my line of work I am faced daily with dangerous or moral decisions. It is much more simplistic than that. Should I be selfish with my time, or should I use it to help a friend who needs a favour? Always go with helping a friend. Would it be a bad idea to have another beer. Probably.
No one I have ever been with since I decided dating was a cool and fun thing to do has ever been able to stand up to the ridiculously high standards my father has set for me. Kindness, loyalty, humor, unwavering optimism. Sure, my lovers will embody some or most of these qualities. It is what attracts me to them in the first place. The key, I think, is the quality of love that I expect from them. I want someone who will (because I know they will) make my blood boil the way my Dad can to Mom, and forgive them for it just like she always does because love is so much stronger than hate or anger. I need someone who understands my moods the way my father can look at my mother and know what she's feeling just by her face. Sure, he may not always do exactly the right thing, but he does it with the best of intentions. I want a love like that.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION
Today I received my first rejection letter. I tried to submit a very self-indulgent short story about my reaction to reading about Ray Bradbury's death to Asimov's Science Fiction thinking that if anyone would understand this kind of loneliness, it would be my people. Out there, there must exist at least a handful of awkward nerds who grew up falling in love with some little old man who saw everything with a sparkling brilliance.
No one can deny that there is a piece of the author in everything they write. Everything a person writes, even a tweet or a post-it note is a piece of them that oral conversation has a way of hiding. Speaking personally, if I'm writing, I'm verbalizing my inner monologue which is something very few people have access to. I can't say for sure that is the same for every writer, but you can feel it in their work. Bradbury, at least in my mind, is such a lovely, naive, innocent man who had the fortunate luck of being alive and writing when space adventure was still unexplored. When he wrote science fiction, he was pioneering. Like the astronauts in his story, he was colonizing a whole genre. He turned something childish into a habitable style of writing for many of his successors. but what does his style say about him? He's an adventurer! he knows it, and he's so damn excited about it!
When I read his works, I sort of became him. I would spend an hour or so of my day reading about Mars or distopian societies of the future and then spent the rest of that day with my head in the clouds. The world was suddenly new to me again. But what does that mean now that he's gone? When I first heard the news that Bradbury had passed, my first reaction was to read The Halloween Tree and cry my bitter tears. How can he still be talking to me, though? If he is gone, his voice should be gone with him, right? Here he is, plain as day in my hands. his voice hasn't muffled at all.
This is why I chose to write. Or, this is why I've chosen to try to write. As of yet it hasn't been my most successful endeavor. I am the type of person that I want to, have to, be immediately good at something or I don't want to do it anymore. I am a perfectionist and an over-achiever and to not be the best is the greatest sign of my own weakness. So why continue writing? I made my attempt and failed. The automaton rejection letter could not have made it any clearer that I didn't do well enough for them. I just can't give up on it. It isn't like learning guitar or trying to knit (both of which i have failed utterly at and tossed aside), this is a passion of mine and I can't accept failure. I need to write in the same way that i need to feel validated. My opinion must matter, even if it is just to myself.
Over time, my writing voice changes. Everyone's does. It is a fact of writing in the same way that your writing voice exists at all. It can cause a problem with bigger projects because your 'style' shall we say, changes from the beginning to the end which can produce an undesired effect on the story itself. But small things are important. Blog posts are important. Think of it as a breadcrumb trail of personal awareness that leads a writer back to who they once were.
So I failed. I knew in the back of my head as soon as I had finished the short story that I would, but I tried anyway. I don't think it was optimism that did it to me. In fact it may have even been a bit of self-loathing mixed with pessimism and masochism. I had to see myself fail at least once at it. What could possibly motivate me more to move forward? I talk and I talk and I talk about this story or that and about how harrrd it is to write and how harrrd it is to pretend to be a writer, but really i'm just a girl with a big imagination who works a shitty retail job. My failure is my own motivation. FOR ONCE.
No one can deny that there is a piece of the author in everything they write. Everything a person writes, even a tweet or a post-it note is a piece of them that oral conversation has a way of hiding. Speaking personally, if I'm writing, I'm verbalizing my inner monologue which is something very few people have access to. I can't say for sure that is the same for every writer, but you can feel it in their work. Bradbury, at least in my mind, is such a lovely, naive, innocent man who had the fortunate luck of being alive and writing when space adventure was still unexplored. When he wrote science fiction, he was pioneering. Like the astronauts in his story, he was colonizing a whole genre. He turned something childish into a habitable style of writing for many of his successors. but what does his style say about him? He's an adventurer! he knows it, and he's so damn excited about it!
When I read his works, I sort of became him. I would spend an hour or so of my day reading about Mars or distopian societies of the future and then spent the rest of that day with my head in the clouds. The world was suddenly new to me again. But what does that mean now that he's gone? When I first heard the news that Bradbury had passed, my first reaction was to read The Halloween Tree and cry my bitter tears. How can he still be talking to me, though? If he is gone, his voice should be gone with him, right? Here he is, plain as day in my hands. his voice hasn't muffled at all.
This is why I chose to write. Or, this is why I've chosen to try to write. As of yet it hasn't been my most successful endeavor. I am the type of person that I want to, have to, be immediately good at something or I don't want to do it anymore. I am a perfectionist and an over-achiever and to not be the best is the greatest sign of my own weakness. So why continue writing? I made my attempt and failed. The automaton rejection letter could not have made it any clearer that I didn't do well enough for them. I just can't give up on it. It isn't like learning guitar or trying to knit (both of which i have failed utterly at and tossed aside), this is a passion of mine and I can't accept failure. I need to write in the same way that i need to feel validated. My opinion must matter, even if it is just to myself.
Over time, my writing voice changes. Everyone's does. It is a fact of writing in the same way that your writing voice exists at all. It can cause a problem with bigger projects because your 'style' shall we say, changes from the beginning to the end which can produce an undesired effect on the story itself. But small things are important. Blog posts are important. Think of it as a breadcrumb trail of personal awareness that leads a writer back to who they once were.
So I failed. I knew in the back of my head as soon as I had finished the short story that I would, but I tried anyway. I don't think it was optimism that did it to me. In fact it may have even been a bit of self-loathing mixed with pessimism and masochism. I had to see myself fail at least once at it. What could possibly motivate me more to move forward? I talk and I talk and I talk about this story or that and about how harrrd it is to write and how harrrd it is to pretend to be a writer, but really i'm just a girl with a big imagination who works a shitty retail job. My failure is my own motivation. FOR ONCE.
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