February 1, 2019
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Resultant of Reading Gay Fanfic

So. I decided to celebrate the start of my three-day weekend — and the end of my “beginning blog posts” period — by staying up late reading Star Trek Kirk/Spock fanfic in bed. Because I’m a dork who has lost all control over my life. Then I slept in late to make up for the fact that I’d stayed up so late reading.

Not a good idea, as it turns out. I slept in too long and now I feel tired and awful.

So, for future reference — especially if you’re bipolar like me — sleeping in too late is actually more likely to create feelings of tiredness or depression than would exist otherwise. Now I get to feel like this for the next few hours.

It is all my own fault.

Don’t be like me. Don’t stay up late reading gay fanfic on a three-day weekend and then sleep in absurdly late. 🙃😐😴

In any case, I’m off to go write fanfic this afternoon myself. There is a volume of poetry I’m working on, and I have music lessons next week, but right now I need some mind candy. Writing fanfic for an afternoon at home is like a puzzle for me; it’s comforting and relaxing.

January 31, 2019
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End of the Busy

I had a dentist’s appointment today. It was at a cozy, humble little family dentistry office, run by a close-knit family themselves. The dentist there is super friendly, and they all like my family, which is similarly close-knit complete with a younger sister that I deeply love.

It must be confessed, though: I hate going to the dentist. It’s a slight phobia, but it is there.

I walked in, and there was a loud, slightly shabby, very raucous family in there about to leave the waiting room. I smiled at their little kids, one of whom was crying, and stared politely at the wall as they had a conversation with the receptionist and dentist’s wife on the way out.

When I was called back into the office by a woman to be lowered down in one of the long chairs, the dental tech above my head was about my age, fairly young. I tend to reflexively close my mouth when I get nervous, so after the cleaning started I entered the land of ten thousand exasperated, “Open”s.

The good part was that we ended up chatting in between dentistry tasks about our former college lives and my bachelor’s degree, which is in writing and business marketing. I also didn’t have a single thing wrong in my mouth. My Mom used to be a dental tech, so all I had was some buildup and a stain on one tooth.

“We’re being picky,” both the tech and later the dentist admitted to me, “because we can afford to be.”

So that was good news. I’m completely clean and healthy and all checked up, and I don’t have to go back for quite a while.

That actually marks the end of the busy-ness to my first work week blogging. I finished a private book of personal memoirs on Monday, started this blog and went out to brunch on Tuesday, had a business meeting on Wednesday, and had a dentist’s appointment today on Thursday.

But now I have a whole three-day weekend to relax until next week…

I consider my first few days of blogging to now be over.

January 30, 2019
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Sharon Van Etten’s Remind Me Tomorrow

This is my latest musical album purchase, so I’m leaving a review. Sharon Van Etten is a new listen for me, and I was interested to try her.

This was a wonderful soft-listening album. Very surreal with woozy electronics and lots of quiet second soprano singing. At the same time, the lyrics are sharp, dark, and right on point. Only if one doesn’t pay attention to the words does one mistake this for easy listening.

The same person worked on this album who has worked on a lot of St Vincent, and I definitely can see the comparison. Janelle Monáe is another one Van Etten sounds a lot like.

This is not a “stunning blow you over” album. It’s a quiet, sharp, and intelligent album, the kind of listen that requires more than one trip through to really get everything Van Etten is trying to say.

On a lyrical level, “I Told You Everything”, “No One’s Easy to Love”, “Comeback Kid”, and “Seventeen” struck my really strongly. But my absolute favorites were “Malibu” and “You Shadow”, which had a killer combination of both excellent lyrics and excellent music.

A good purchase if you’re a lyric-heavy listener who likes music that’s woozy, surreal, dark and intelligent. I fall under that category pretty heavily, so this was a great musical album for me.

January 30, 2019
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Never Never Land and Heroin Abuse

I read an article today about the death from heroin abuse of former child actor Bobby Driscoll. For those who don’t know, Bobby Driscoll was Disney’s original Peter Pan. Cast out by Disney halfway through being an adorable child actor, he admitted later that he’d felt alienated from everyone even before the sudden throw-out, and he never got his life back on track. In and out of prison, odd jobs, and a dysfunctional marriage, he spent some time in Andy Warhol’s circle before being found dead of a heroin overdose in an apartment in New York.

Needless to say, it was a very dark end to Never Never Land.

What I want to talk about, though, is how Driscoll’s friends to this day can be quoted as talking about his heroin addiction: “He was smart and he should have known better, but he made a mistake and it cost him.” Seemingly every quote from an old celebrity friend in the article fell along these lines.

I do not feel comfortable yet talking on this blog about my own life’s personal encounters with addiction. That is a part of my history; it was once but is no longer a part of my life, but nothing else about it will be explained for now at this early point and for this essay. I am not even telling my readers whether the past addiction was my own or someone else’s. Those stories will probably come at a later date. But my larger point is that I shouldn’t have to talk about my personal experiences with addiction. It is frustrating that in today’s modern society, with all the information and technology available, most of us still don’t seem to understand that addiction is not a choice — it’s something compulsive that happens to people who feel socially disconnected.

This is where all addiction of any kind stems from. Usually, people get a rush of happy chemicals in their brain from the feeling of authentic human connection. When they don’t feel authentic human connection, they turn to a false and cruel, addictive way of getting that same rush of happy chemicals in their brain. The problem is that the method is false, and so the addict never has enough, and so the addict keeps having to take more to get that same resultant rush of brief, false, synthetic human connection.

In Driscoll’s case, an isolated child star later thrown unceremoniously out of Hollywood, he chose heroin. But he didn’t choose to be an addict. All he picked was his method of addiction — and nobody ever tried to help him out of it.

This is the part almost all of the interview quotes I read left out. Perhaps no one wants to admit to themselves that by providing authentic human connection, by trying to help and be there for Driscoll, they might actually have been able to do something about his problems with addiction.

I realize this is a harsh way of looking at the interviewees, that being there for an addict is extremely difficult. As I said, I have past life history experiences with addiction myself. But being there for the addict is also the only thing that might potentially save the addict’s life. Compassion and human connection is not only healing, but is sometimes the only way into getting an addict to want to help themselves.

I also realize it doesn’t always work out that way. My point is that it can, and that nobody ever tried that with Driscoll.

Driscoll’s story is a tragedy. But even the modern reactions to it are almost just as tragic, and just as symptomatic of a larger problem in our society. In everyone else’s mind, Driscoll seemingly is simply an idiot who did something he shouldn’t have, like walking out in front of a line of moving cars.

No one seems to want to address the real problem, the compulsiveness stemming from a lack of authentic human connection.

And until we start to see addiction of all forms in this more compassionate way, and until we stop punishing addicts and stop calling them stupid for feeling socially isolated… we will never be able to solve the very wide and diverse array of social problems that addiction creates.

January 30, 2019
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Businesswoman and Coffee Shop Aesthetic

I had a business meeting with my web designer and consultant today. I am starting up my own small virtual business, editing everything from college papers to books for publication. I have the actual business setup and can theoretically start taking clients immediately.

But today’s meeting was to brainstorm some ideas for how to begin promoting and advertising for my business.

I have a plan for the next couple of weeks, and we brainstormed some really good ideas! My business consultant and web designer is a Vietnamese refugee with a large family who regularly bikes in Iron Man competitions and does triathlons, and he puts so much of himself into everything he does. So we just sat at his conference table and brainstormed ideas together.

But mostly I loved today because it was a Major Aesthetic.

I decided to forego putting on makeup, take a long shower and make my hair nice and neat, and dress casual but fairly professional and feminine. I want to leave a good impression even in the minor aspects of starting my entrepreneurship and my business. We sat at the conference table and discussed, I penciled our ideas into my calendar, and the meeting ended fairly successfully.

Afterwards, I went to a coffee shop for a while to relax and celebrate my success. I got a very good peppermint mocha, and sat amid the colorful sofas and armchairs in front of the tiny row of miniature potted cacti on the main table.

Like I said, Major Aesthetic.

It was a very successful and surprisingly enjoyable afternoon of entrepreneurship — and coffee!

January 29, 2019
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A Soft Murmur (Meditation Tool to Fall Asleep)

Confession: As a bipolar person — type two, prone more to depression than to mania — sometimes I feel lowest and most moody at night, when I’m tired. When I feel low, I start thinking about dark, sad things. And as I’m lying in bed, I start to feel very lonely.

This is very hard and puzzling for me, because while it is true I am single currently, it is also true that I have had an almost alarmingly good number of boyfriends, am comfortable being single most of my life, currently live with family, and have a good best friend.

The problem is, depression doesn’t think like that. Depression tells me that my demisexuality — my sexual inclination to fall in love more slowly and to only be able to be physically intimate with people I love — has chased away most meaningful romantic relationships. Depression tells me that I’ll probably never find anyone at all, and I’ll feel like this forever. And I’ll know rationally that it’s not true, but that doesn’t help the downward spiral of my ever-present thoughts.

It’s not a serious problem, but it is a problem, one that combines loneliness with ruminating. And when I get like this, I have insomnia. So when I have this problem, I need to turn to different forms of meditation to help me relax and fall asleep.

Sometimes actual healing meditation will do it — just sitting and existing inside my feelings to a guided audio without trying to do anything about them. Sometimes a cognitive behavioral therapy technique called self intimacy works — pretending I’m cuddling with someone and saying nice things to myself, as a form of positive self talk.

Sometimes I try highly meditative websites. I listen to ASMR and self hypnosis basically every night.

But when all that doesn’t work, I’ve found a new and seemingly simple tool to add to my repertoire. It’s a website called A Soft Murmur.

For as long as you need to, this website will give you a background noise combination mix of relaxing, meditative, healing audio sounds. What do I mean by combination? They have a large selection to choose from and multiple background sounds can be chosen at once, all perfectly overlapping each other in your ideal mix, and as long as my computer is plugged in, those noises can last for as long as I want and I can fall asleep to them.

You really have to try it gently to get the full effect, but it’s extremely helpful because I can tailor all the sounds that best suit my needs and fit them all together. Here is a mix I made tonight.

I chose fire crackling and wave sounds to simulate beloved childhood memories of growing up near a Southern California beach and going to events like bonfires less than an hour’s drive away from my tiny Southwestern childhood hometown. That is the relaxing and peaceful part. Then I added in coffee shop sounds that remind me of the artsy parts of college to simulate feeling less alone, as an experiment, and strangely enough? The sounds are gentle enough that it actually works! Part background ambient, part ASMR, part meditation, part actual therapeutic technique, so far A Soft Murmur has been working wonders for my mood tonight. I feel warm, whole, and full.

I will be using this to fall asleep tonight, and so I thought I’d share. If you need something to meditate and fall asleep to as well, and even to feel less low and alone like I do, here is a great tool I have found. This is my particular mix on the website:

https://asoftmurmur.com/?m=wve44fre44pep46

January 29, 2019
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The Good Place, Season Three

I know, I know, I’m finishing the last episode of the third season several days after everyone else. Sorry. But hey! I watched it!

And it was SAD!

For those who aren’t watching… why not? You’re, like, the only person who isn’t. It’s the cool thing to do. It’s a network show that’s also on Netflix, you really don’t have any excuse.

Also for those who aren’t watching, The Good Place is hard to explain. It’s kind of about the afterlife. It’s kind of a philosophical social and thought experiment. It’s kind of a romantic comedy friend drama filled with life lessons. It’s kind of an ongoing epic and quest, with everything at stake. It’s kind of about the struggle of how to be a good person in the modern age. It’s also completely a coherent fictional storyline. It will definitely make you both laugh and cry. Bonus points for all the political and pop culture references.

If any of that sounds like your thing, The Good Place is for you.

I am continually amazed by how The Good Place reinvents itself with every single season, but season three was so far the ultimate in constant reinvention. When I think of where the season started out and where it finished, and the way it never felt rushed, I am absolutely wowed.

The character development is hard to keep up with, for complicated plot-related reasons that are highly unconventional, but the acting is absolutely fantastic in spite of all the convolutions. D’Arcy Carden’s star episode where she somehow played every single character majorly featured in the episode (also hard to explain) was more than a little incredible, but the acting in general is stupendous.

I love the imaginativeness to the entire series. It somehow manages to make everything seem ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. This combined with how thoughtful it is with its messages and social issues is a big flash point of the series for me.

And finally, after all these imaginative and adventurous convolutions — I have never quite seen a show like this on television before — we had this episode. Started out innocuous enough, ended tragically sad, and through a twist and a return character I honestly wasn’t expecting.

I’m accustomed enough to tragic mystery twists that I’m frankly impressed.

Of course, The Good Place never leaves things on one note, so I’m excited to see what happens at the beginning of next season. If there is one thing this show does not do, it is dwell on one plot point for very long. So mostly I just can’t wait to see what comes next! Bonus points for the new Janet-Eleanor girlfriend connection.

It was a great ending to a great season! Can’t wait for the next!

The Good Place is a master-class in writing, so I am tagging this as a writing post. Writers, take note.

January 29, 2019
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Abortion, Feminism, and Spirituality

Here I am, about to jump right into the fires of a very controversial subject. All I would ask is that my reader read my whole essay, and try to take in every point I have made, before responding — because I believe that either I am about to foster more compassionate understanding between peoples, or I am about to make both sides of the abortion debate somewhat unhappy. The entire point I have to make here… is a complex one.

I knew that I was a feminist from a very early age, and I also knew that I was torn on the issue of abortion.

The problem was that I am also spiritual, and I always have been. I currently self-identify, here in my mid-twenties, as a witch and a Wiccan. Witches are not Satan-worshippers and are actually closer to a blend of Protestant Christianity, Zen Buddhism, and modern progressive politics. We believe that the God we worship is both male and female and is inside each and every single living person — which is where the idea of the Goddess comes from.

I was torn, therefore, on the issue of abortion. I knew as a feminist that no woman went out in life wanting to get an abortion, and that most abortions represented the lives of women in dire straits. But I also knew that I saw unborn babies as having souls.

For a long time I thought this meant that I had to see abortion as murder. But I was conflicted, because I also knew that this kind of murder often inflicted trauma on the potential mother, who viewed the procedure as a necessity because of sometimes very terrible circumstances.

The truth, when I finally realized it, was far stranger. There are many other cultures where religion and souls are believed in and abortion is still seen as perfectly fine. The question from there should not be, How do those people reconcile these two things for themselves? The question should be, What is the difference between how many other cultures view death and how we view death in the West?

I came to see the West as very illiterate surrounding death — as being unusually fearful of it, in the context of the world. We are so illiterate and fearful concerning the subject of death that all of us automatically assume abortion is murder.

None of us think to see abortion as something closer to what happens in an instance of physical lack of circumstance leading to miscarriage, or as something closer to what happens in hospice treatment. In other words, none of us take the view of the death that involves abortion compassionately, as something traumatic for both the mother and the child brought on by circumstances.

Death so terrifies us in the West that when we see an abortion practice happening, we see a murderer with a knife in the street about to stab someone. We don’t see a medical procedure filled with grief and despair that is something closer to what happens in hospice — even though I would argue that is closer to what abortion literally looks like.

There is no blood. There is no screaming. There is no prolonged period. And usually, there is no baby. Women who are close to birth are far less likely, even when it is legal, to have an abortion procedure done.

Usually what an abortion procedure is filled with is traumatized feelings, silence, and a relatively quick, clean medical procedure that involves few of the usual signs of life. In other words, in reality, abortion looks a lot like what happens in hospice, or in the hospital.

What I am saying is that this is how many other cultures see it, and this is the difference between them and us. They see abortion as something to be regretted, a death brought on by circumstances, but they don’t view this kind of death with terror and fury as a kind of murder.

Abortion is not a good thing, in many other cultures. But it is a medical, terrible death. It is not murder to them.

Interestingly, and perhaps fittingly, these are also the cultures who talk about death a lot. These are the cultures that see life and death fully as one round circle, as a cyclical process. These are the death-literate cultures.

Once I realized this, it was an entirely new way of seeing my spirituality in conjunction with feminism and abortion. Because this death-literacy is very close to how Wiccans actually view life and death. Wiccan beliefs teach that life and death are a constant cycle, a round circle of death, reincarnation, and birth, complete with an afterlife we visit and leave an imprint of ourselves with in between lives and a constant connection we feel towards each other and towards our world. 

If I tried to put aside my anger, I realized that it stemmed largely from a horror and terror of any kind of death, this quiet medical kind included. If I put aside that fear, and started looking at both myself and others with compassion, I began to view these mothers as having to go through a horrible kind of trauma — not being able to keep their baby because of circumstances, having to give it up to a tragic death, and then being told by the horror and terror of their society (the same horror and terror I used to fall for) that they were murderers.

But murder indicates a willing desire to end another’s life. And I would argue therefore that in the case of abortion, the accusation of murder stands on very murky ground. No mother voluntarily wants to end the life of the child being carried around inside her. The mothers who seek abortions — legally or illegally — simply feel forced to.

Would I get an abortion myself to this day? No. Then again, it is easy for me to say that, because in comparison to someone living in horrible poverty and an abusive situation, for example, I have a relatively easy life. And in that circumstance, would I want someone to treat me with compassion? Absolutely.

Abortion is terrible. But so, argues feminism, are usually the circumstances surrounding it. At some point, I began to realize that this was a form of compassion, the kind of compassion that spirituality also teaches. Compassion is an important part of Wicca, because karma is a very real part of the religion, and in karma both our good deeds and our bad deeds eventually come back to us. 

I guess my shortest explanation is that both my feminism and my spiritualism are constant works in progress. But I was faced with a choice: Either I can look at someone in an abusive and poverty-stricken situation having to traumatically give a child up by medical procedure, and call them a murderer.

Or I can look at the same person, and tell them I am sorry they have had to face a tragic death.

In the end, I have discovered, the choice is mine. This is an entirely new way of seeing abortion for me, one borrowed from other cultures that are not as filled with the West’s anger and hatred towards the issue, and so I thought I’d share.

January 29, 2019
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A Rustic Diner Brunch and Scenes of Social Awkwardness

I went out to brunch with my family this morning. We were celebrating my Mom overcoming a health problem, and we decided to celebrate with brunch.

We ended up at a cozy little rustic wood diner. It was covered in country-style art like wagon wheels and old rocking chairs. Classic rock played on the loudspeakers overhead, and I watched logging trucks pass by outside the diner window from our booth. I had coffee and French toast and chatted with my family. I quietly people watched the passersby that crossed through the diner, because people watching is one of my favorite things to do out in public.

There were a couple of tiny old women in a booth near us that I could have sworn were giving funny looks in our direction all the way through the meal, no matter how much I smiled at them. I was becoming very uncertain, even defensive, but then as we were getting up to leave my Dad made an effort to give them a big smile and wish them good morning in a cheerful tone of voice.

They ended up smiling, seeming really happy and grateful, and thanking us. It turned out that they just had trouble focusing their eyes and hadn’t been able to see our table very well. They appreciated the fact that we’d been trying to be kind to them. So what could have been awkward and uncomfortable actually turned into a really sweet moment.

Something else funny happened while we were at the diner. I was staring out the window, daydreaming, trying to plan a piece of writing I was going to do later. Mom asked me uncertainly if I was bored or upset and I wanted to go home.

I told her no. It’s an INTJ personality type thing. We frown and can even look deadpan and bored, when really we are happy concentrating and trying to solve a problem. Even INFJs, my other personality type, to a certain extent are like this. So I ended up having to laughingly tell my family that no, I wasn’t bored or annoyed, I was just thinking.

It’s almost a twist on the Resting Bitch Face thing.

Listening to music on the drive home, I had a good, serene time watching the fantastic sceneries of snow pass by outside the window. Me and my sister took pictures of each other from the back seat, making weird faces at each other for our phone cameras and giggling ourselves silly.

I had a really nice time and it was good to get out with my family for a brunch-time treat.