Thursday, December 29, 2011

why voting for gay rights is stupid

Voting for gay rights is stupid because we shouldn't have to vote on them at all.  In the Constitution is says the we are all entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It doesn't say, "except for gays." In the Bible it says love your fellow man. It doesn't say, "except for gays."  When I look at my college contract, it says treat all students with respect.  It doesn't say "except for gays."

When I served in the armed forces, the paper I signed didn't say you can talk about everything with your unit except your sexuality, even though as a woman I didn't really.  These people who have your back in emergency situations can be trusted. Not once did I think that Hans, the medic, who I knew was gay, didn't have my back, and I didn't have his.  Not once.  It simply did not occur to me.  We did talk about dates, but only slightly, as in, I had one, or Hans was busy on a given night.  No names and no sex talk.  Maybe the guys did amongst themselves, but I was never a part of it.  I did get asked for a lot of advice about girls.  (Boys are dum).

I will say that Will, our part time Lt. was kind of an ass, and none of us wanted to hear anything about any part of his life.  I am pretty sure he was straight.  Nobody asked.  Nobody cared, not because we thought it was such a big stinking secret, but because we just didn't give a toss.  When the Don't Ask, Don't Tell thing came along suddenly we began looking around a bit, but nothing really changed.  We still needed to get each others backs, that was the only thing we wanted to know.

Less than half of all adults in the US are married, and those who are married wait to get married until they are a bit older.  No one rushes to get married at the age of 20 anymore.  We wait until 30 if we get married at all. Yet, we tell a given portion of the population that they can't marry ever.

I love some of the far Christian right, who tell me that God doesn't make mistakes, and we have evidence that being gay is not a choice, so God did not make the mistake if a person was born gay.  the choice comes when you act on your desire.  Well, that is true regards of sexuality, so, okay, I will buy that.  There is no "except for"

So why are we voting on what seems to already be law, in church, in state, in our hearts?  It seems stupid to vote on a given.  Hey, everybody, let's vote on whether or not there is gravity.

What a waste of time.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Col. Barbie

On Facebook there have been a couple of photos posted of children happily opening toy rifles, toy Berrettas and toy assault rifles.

First, why are these things "toys?"

Second, why are we giving them to children who are not able to cognitively understand why they are dangerous to the psyche.  Maybe the people who are giving them do not have a psyche, baring that, have not been in real combat.  Maybe they are just the idiots who shoot yellow road signs.

Third, why is there not a protest by the feminist body to prevent the forced masculinity training propagated by the issuance of the guns to little boys.  We protest Barbies for little girls and make up kits, arguing that they hyper-sexualize the idea of women as objects of adornment.  Why not guns and GI Joes for little boys arguing them as ways to hyper-aggression in men?  This seems a bit one sided.

Many supporters of Barbie argue that it is an adult role playing doll, and the action figure (doll) of GI Joe are examples of possibilities for adult roles that children can imagine themselves in.  I'd buy this, except I don't see any male action figures (dolls) that are lawyers or doctors or tech guys.   I have seen celebrity dolls, but no Mark Zuckerberg Action Figure.

I can hear Mattel whispering in my ear now telling me, "That won't sell. Those guys are boring."

Is that it?  Do we need our toys to be action packed, rather than mind candy? I am kind of hurt by this, really.  I suddenly want a sudoko book in every stocking.

I guess we could create an AK47 that Barbie wears with  a cute little camo outfit to represent all the women in the armed forces. But see, the thing is, that I don't want to teach our little girls to be violent either.

There are plenty of toys that promote the idea of boys as aggressive and violent.  Guns seem to be at the top of the list, and I wonder why the outrage is not louder over this.  It might be because we seem to associate the types of people who give their children toys as the ignorant hillbilly rednecks, and it is hard to argue with those folks.

Coming from that part of the country, and knowing my share of hillbillies, I am here to tell you that those those folks use guns to eat with.  They are not toys.  And I have seen more than one rifle from the turn of the century that protects the wimminfolk when the men are off shooting dinner.  It is considered a rite of passage when the child learns to shoot, and it isn't gender restrictive.

I return to my original question:  Why are these "toys?"  Boys will pick up a stick and shoot you with it.  Girls will use jam as lipstick.  It is just a game.  Let's not provide adult versions of either danger.  Sooner or later the boys will put down the sticks, and the girls will wash their face.  No need to make toys out of these things.

E Cards

Really?  for Christmas??

I am so not a fan.  Please don't bother to send me an ecard. 
It clearly shows that you don't know me at all, and the thought that went into sending it, was really, not a thought at all.

I love paper.  I know people think that paper and cards are redundant or obsolete, but not me.  As long as there is colored  designed paper and wonderful pens to write with in this world, I will be happy.

One blogger even wrote that the image of women gluing shit onto other shit is a way for them to be occupied and not claiming their own power in business.  (Occupy the Paper?) Um.  Okay.  A little angry and sarcastic and clearly not the girl who liked art.  Or whose art projects just ended up looking like a blob of glue and some torn up construction paper.  Sad.  A dear friend owns a business that does just that, and she is doing well, thanks.  (Maybe I can hook the two of them up to release Angry Girl's inner artist)

And then I get a Jacquie Lawson card in the inbox.  I LOVE these.  This woman is creative, sweet and clearly puts thoughts into her cards.  These I don't mind.  But I secretly think that they are vestiges of my Scottish Grandmother from Heaven reminding me of my heritage, and telling me in gaelic that I had better remember the true things.

The point of all of this is that if you are a writer and you love books and the written language, you don't want anything but a paper and pen card in the mail.  There is something about a person's handwriting that it truly and uniquely "them" and they don't even know it.  It is heart puller when I get one from a friend and Christmas is supposed to be all about and only about Love, so as insipid as it sounds, I feel both Love and loved when I get a handwritten card.

And yes, okay, I know it isn't very "green of me".  I recycle the fronts and use them as Tags, okay? Back off.

A bigwig tech CEO told me once that we will soon be a paperless society.  Not if I can help it.  I plan to send Christmas cards until I face down in my pudding.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Get the Fuck Up!

Okay so here is the thing.  I don't know if I am ever going to get published (but I hope I am) and I don't know if I will ever get a job again where I LOVE going to work and feel creative and as if I am not working with a bunch of douche bags who just don't get it and say racist things, but I gotta believe that I will.  Maybe I am just a half full type of person (although saying that is like saying that Charlie Sheen is ready to party).  But it feels like I have to live as if both of those things are true.

When I first started teaching I loved my job.  I mean, I LOVED it.  I said that the day I began to hate coming to work was the day i would stop doing the job.  And i did.  I began to hate my Dean and my chair, and began to dread coming to work.  My students continued to be wonderful and I continued to love them.  But the administration could choke and die.

I have been out of the classroom and off formal work situations for almost half a year, and have finally come to the realization that I need to live graciously and be as kind to myself as I can.  It is kind of liberating to know that I can get up, shower, make coffee and go to work as I write at my own desk and take myself out to lunch if i like.    It is the routine of it that I need to stick to, and when I do, I am incredibly productive.

it is the sticking to it that is hard.  I have to remember that it is not free time.  It is work time, and no I can't go read a book outside, or run to Trader Joe's because I am out of peppermint cookies.  Don't call me expecting to chat over the latest crap that came out of your co worker's mouth, or how your mom hates you today.  I can't go to the sale, but I can work in the garden as a coffee break, or have a purr session with His Orangeness Mr. Max, and all is right with the world.

But I have to get up.  And I have to get dressed as if I am going somewhere, and a shower is a good idea.  Oh and feeding Max.  Pets play better when they are fed.  And I smell better when showered and coffeed.

And this, this is the trick.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Blatent Plug

please follow me by clicking the button to your right.  The more followers I have when it comes time to shop my novel out to publishers, the more likely I am to get it published.

The writers' life is not easy, often financially hard (coupons are your best friend) and the promise of publication can keep us going for a long time.  Keep hope alive, follow me.

Buckle Up

I was all set to hate the ABC show Pan Am, except for the clothes.  I am a closet sixties girl in style, and wish those styles were back (without the girdles, of course).  I thought Pan Am was going to be another Playboy Club (Playboy Club? Really?) with all the caricatures of the sixties, and a flimsy premise to show off scantily clad girls.  Either that or a Mad Men WannaBe.

But it isn’t.

The characters are fleshed out, each with his or her own backstory that makes you like them and feel sympathy for them.  The episodes are well written, well acted and are not over blown.  The scenes that have sexism in them are exposing the sexism for what it is, and it isn’t underhanded or covert.  It is right there, exposed as stupid, and ridiculous.  In one episode, Christina Ricci’s character, Maggie, is groped by a drunk passenger, who thinks he has the right to do so simply because she is nice to him.  That is, after all her job.  She responds by telling him that she “is not included in the price of your (his) ticket,” and pokes him with the carving fork, drawing blood.

The audience and the other stewardesses are on her side immediately, and we see the dilemma as they keep the story from the pilots.  Alas, the jerk wants her fired, and complains to the co-pilot, who offers him a free whiskey and tells him she will be talked to.  Unfortunately, during the sixties, the scenario that played out in the script was probably a pretty real situation, and happened more than once to more than one girl.  Due to the magic of Hollywood, however, Christina Ricci gets to have her say, and points out the sexism for what it is, and how the consequences play out when she replies to the co-pilot, “What you just did was give that jerk permission to grope someone else, and feel as if he is entitled to it.” 

There it is.  Right there.  The sexism is pointed to, named, and the consequences of his actions exposed.  The co-pilot is responsible because he colluded in the oppression inherent in those times.  It could have been stopped if he had just stuck up for Maggie.  But, due to male privilege, it does not occur to him to do so until after she says it.

Another episode, set in Berlin, shows the backstory of the French Stewardess Collette.  She was three when the Nazi’s came for her parents.  They were killed with other Jews in one of the internment camps.  She was forced to learn German and years later, still hates the Germans.  Ironically, is it her trilingualism that earns her the job with Pan Am.  This displays not sexism, but the awful racism of the times in Europe and how much backlash remained, even in those who did not want to feel that way.  She says, “I came back to Berlin to forgive.  But I found that I still hate them. And I don’t know how to stop.”

Still a third story takes place in Paris.  In this episode the Pilot searches for his lost love through a male friend in famous Parisian nightclub.  He brings along Collette to help translate for him.  She asks the maitre’d, who owns the place along with his boyfriend, for information about the lost love.  He replies that the lost love “like me, Bridget likes her boyfriends, but loves her husband more.”  Aha.  The Pilot is just a boyfriend and the sexual tables are turned.  Sexuality is now brought in, and the casual affair considered normal, but still clandestine.  We see this again in episode four, when Katie (another stewardess) is shown sleeping with a lover, and in the first scenes of episode one when Colette sleeps with a lover she does not know is married.  This is definitely a showing of how it was but how it wasn’t in the sixties.

The sixties were a time when sexism and racism were rampant. Pan Am does a good job of showing the times as they were, as well as the times as they changed.  Young women only had so many options, white or otherwise, and this show still points to the weigh-ins and girdles as silly, and mentions the guideline that Stewardess needed to be single.  Even going so far as to make an issue out of all three.

There is a Pilot of color, and Indian man named Sanjay.  We have not seen his backstory yet, although we have with the other two men in the cockpit. It will be interesting to see what they do with Sanjay, and the rest of the storylines.  The other remarkable part is when looking up the writers and the fact checkers one discovers that many of these storylines are taken from the real lives of the people who worked for Pan Am.  So the realization of sexism and racism was taking place in a very real way.  Normally when we think of the sixties and racism/sexism we think about the civil rights movement, not the upper class white privilege of PanAm.

It is important to separate the historic moment from the sensibilities of today.  You can’t show what wasn’t in the historic moment, but you can point to and expose what was. In Pan Am, sexism is pointed to, shown and discussed within the confines of the show.  This is a pretty neat trick.  Is it perfect?  No television show is the feminist paragon we would like it to be.  And so the question becomes, do we deny and turn up our noses at a historic moment that contains the things we are now fighting against, or do we recognize it for what it is, what it was and learn from our history.

Is there a difference between sexy and sexism?  HELL yes. This sexy show shows sexism to be abhorrent.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Not the kind of equality I am fighting for

Late night television is still making fat jokes.  It seems that the only thing that is consistently funny, and the one thing the comedians fall back on is how someone looks.  There is a small twist this time though.  This time they are doing it to Christopher Christie, the New Jersey Governor, as well as to Jessica Simpson.

This is not the kind of equality I am fighting for.

If the only way to create something as funny is to remark on a politician/celebrity’s appearance, then I think we live in a heartless world who does not understand the meaning of character or when someone is in distress.  Once again we are fighting a lipstick war and not one of compassion.  Attacks on Charlie Sheen and his recent very public breakdown are nothing short of heartless, and display the type of competition that is usually reserved for how women talk to each other.  And it worries me.

This is not the kind of equality I am fighting for either.

What I mean why are celebrities reduced to the kind of treatment we normally reserve just for women.  We comment on their appearance, their intelligence (usually the lack of), their latest scandal, their fashion, their hair, their love life etc.  We feel that we have a right to it, turning to each other and saying things like “Well, if they didn’t want the public to comment, they shouldn’t have become a public figure.”  As if this justifies our own judgmental behavior.  We also seem to think that there is something that the person can do about it.  It is their fault, after all.

An additional argument here is that many of the self esteem and self image issues that celebrities walk around with we also impose on our young girls.  Man have a tendency to manifest these issue through the use of alcohol, sex and drugs, while women focus internally and use food as their tools of choice.  Make no mistake; I am not arguing either form of coping as gender specific, just as a tendency.

Young women are subject to the same kind of scrutiny that celebrities are.  They are attacked at a stage of development in which they are sure there is an imaginary audience watching them all the time, and so become concerned with the smallest of details.  The trouble is we have created a society in which they are partially right, there are people out there who comment on their appearance, and it is usually other women. Very often it is their peer group.  I found myself commenting about a woman wearing pajamas into the local Chipoltle. (They were bright yellow and had SpongeBob faces on them.  And it was 4 pm on a Wednesday).

Part of the problem is that we as a society do in fact attribute characteristics based on how someone looks. It is called the Halo effect.  We give jobs, dates, and better deals to those who we think are attractive.  We want those things for ourselves too, so we primp and curl, and when we don’t, jokes are made.

Awareness is the first way to fight this, but I spent some time thinking about the source of this meanness, and can only come up with . . .nothing.  Sure some jealousy is there, but jealousy of what? I think we should fight this, because I don’t think it is okay to victimize or dehumanize someone based on their weight or their gender.  I also find myself becoming derisive about SpongeBob pajamas in public.

So I am throwing open the doors for discussion.  How do you think we should fight this kind of judgment to help prevent young women from “image-ing” themselves into an eating disorder?

Monday, October 10, 2011


I live in Los Altos/ Palo Alto.  This means that i am near many of the movers and shakers who make our world what it is.  Last Thursday night I was lucky enough to get an invitation to preview the new documentary Miss Representation by Jennifer Siebel Newsom.  I dragged my 17 year old filmmaker friend along, and was delighted to catch up to another feminist friend from a womens organization I belong to.

For the next hour and a half or so I watched images and commentary about  women in America and how we are consistently and constantly subjagated, objectified, put down, dismissed, invalidated, infantalized, and ridiculed for our power.

I didn't disagree with any of it.

I have seen such documentaries before.  Killing Us Softly by Jean Kilbourne and Tough Guise by Jackson Katz, but both of these stopped at the gender role representations and body images within media only.  Jen's went to politics, economics, and even to a personal place.   She spoke of her struggle with an eating disorder.  Her situation is her own in regards to this, but the struggle is one that we all know, whether or not the eating disorder became full blown.  We all struggle with self comfort vs the fear of rejection.

In the audience, I hesitated to ask my question, and let a couple of other people go first.  I finally just asked.  Where?  I want to know, does the fear come from?  And have we named it?  Because it seems to me that until we can name this fear of women in power, we cannot address it completely.

It has been nibbled at, chewed on, provided fodder for conversation and yet, and yet, it is not yet named.

How do we name this thing?

I sent Jen an email beginning the conversation around this question. If you want to join in, then please watch Miss Representation on the OWN Network on October 19th with this question in mind, and chime into the conversation.  Jen and I are interested.

And if, like my 17 year old friend, you think you somehow don't have the chops or experience to chime in, I have one question for you: do you have a vagina?  If THAT answer is yes, then you have something to say simply by virtue of living the life you have lived.  If that answer is no, chime in anyway.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Gross Point Romy and Michelle

Final thoughts on my high school reunion.  There are no friends like the ones you grew up with.  The ones who saw you cry when you fell out of the tree, knew that your brother played the trumpet badly,  that your mom was the one who would give us all cookies, or that your dad was the one who was killed by a semi truck.  The playground friends, the ones who picked you on your ability to play dodgeball, or solve math problems.  Mostly they picked you cuz' they liked you and accepted who you were.

I remember these people as if they were clear jewels in my childhood.  Kevin Carter's crystal blue eyes. Kim's smoker laugh even at age 8, and Wendy who lived next door and how absolutely funny she was (and still is).  Michele who lived on the corner who had to wear a back brace and oh so much more.  Mostly I remember how much I loved them then, and still do now.

We remember these people and things more clearly thean we remember the high school slights, the mean girls, the keggers that were supposed to be "so fun" that weren't.  They just ended in drama, all the time.  I, very luckily, seem to have had a lobotomy about most of those people.  I don't remember them, and when I remember them, I will forget them very quickly.  Again.

The ones I do remember were already friends on Facebook, because we had always been friends.  A few were friends of friends, and a few I made friends with in High School and immediately shared a sense of humor with.  One woman I was friends with solely on Facebook even though we went to high school together, and I think she is the funniest person alive.  Some I am friends with now, because it took me so long to be person I am now that I CAN be friends with them.

We all have had grief, broken hearts, bad decisions, and joy filled moments.  When we remember this, and gravitate towards those who also have humor and love in their everyday actions, we are just fine, and it does not take a reunion to know that.

 But it took one to remind me.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Top Six Things VoldeMouse Teaches Children

I am not a fan of the Mouse Who Shall Not Be Named (for fear of defamation lawsuit - think I am kidding, read this). I think the Children's programming is anything but. I think the stories teach hate and subjagation. Strong words? Maybe.

1. There are no Black People in Africa.
Best Example: Tarzan. Is there a SINGLE African in the movie? Where are they? Why are all the people white. Africa is a pretty big country and the jungle isn't so small either. Surely there must be ONE. Instead we have all white characters and primitive animals who talk as comic relief.

2. Domestic Violence is the way to True Love
Best Example: Beauty and the Beast. Belle has to trade herself for her father (nothing sexist there) and tolerate being imprisoned, yelled at, watch her father be physically thrown out into the snow and cut off from all she loves. And the message? If she can just love the Beast enough, he will change.

3. Women are Secondary.
Best example: every single movie. All love interests are incapable of getting themselves out of a jam. They are they to provide justification for the directors and producers that they are catering to little girls. Because all little girls want that (not).

4. Dark people are bad. White people are heroes.
Best example(s): Jafar in Alladin, Scar in the Lion King, Cap'n Hook in Peter Pan, all the Huns and Ghengis Khan in Mulan, and my very favorite, Malificent in Sleeping Beauty. There is a list of movies on the Disney Movie Guide. I counted three protagonists of color in the last five years. Out of 81 movies. 81.

5. Older women are Ugly and Jealous.
Best examples: Urseala in The Little Mermaid, The Evil Queen in Snow White, Everyone in Cinderella, Cruella deVille in 101 Dalmations, The Witch in Tangled, and my very favorite (she truly is magnificent) Malificent in Sleeping Beauty.

6. Mothers are not necessary.
Best examples: Snow White, The Little Mermaid, Peter Pan, Bambi, Cinderella, Mulan, Finding Nemo, Tarzan, and oh, so many others.

You get it.

I want to point out that is is the animated side of That Company, who appears to have bought out a couple of other people based on the movies they are claiming in their list.

When they teamed up with Pixar, things got better, although the formula didn't change much with the buddy movie, Toy Story. It did with the Incredibles and the kick ass Elastigirl ("Leave the saving of the world to the men? I don't THINK so.") Finding Nemo (neurotic dad searches everywhere for disabled son) and Lilo and Stitch (A broken home, but one filled with love- and how do you NOT love Cobra Bubbles?).

When it is just Disney on their own, they still crank out the popular pretty girls as desirable, and the ugly old women as lacking in worth. The white people are always in the forefront, and no moms are real characters.

With Pixar, we at least see the upcoming Brave, in which Merida a Scottish Princess is required to save her people. She fights with her mom, and has to fix it. she is also a bad ass archer.


Let's hope that a love interest, if any, is secondary to her, and she doesn't give up anything cool to be with him.

All the little girls with skinned knees and messy ponytails need this one.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Glass Heel: New site

So first, love the name. It is a play on the idea of the glass ceiling. How do we break the ceiling? By being female, and wearing a glass heel that can spike through the ceiling. Is it possible to be both female, nice, and successful. It is, and I suspect this site is set to show us how. I am looking for some good things from these folks. Molly seems llke a sister, one who gets it. (Hear me, girl?)

Also Cinderella might have worn a Glass Heel rather than a glass slipper. Maybe Cinderella could be pretty and still have it all with or without the Prince.

As I have said before, I have Southern roots, I was a debutante, and like Julia Sugarbaker, I use my intellect as a rapier sharp weapon, but only when someone has been ugly to me first. And then, without using foul language (mostly) I take them down, but only to the point where they need it. I am sometimes called a bitch, but mostly that is from men who are not expecting me to as smart as I am. As you get older, you get used to it, but the anger over being criticized for your intelligence never quite goes away.

I find it disconcerting that women cannot be both nice and powerful. There are a lot of reasons for this, and I can talk about them all. I also want solutions. I have a feeling this site will deliver both to us.

Hope so.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Peg Aloi is not a Bas Ass Feminist

Peg Aloi is a freelance writer who published an article in the Huffington Post entitled “Tough Gals: Do They Still Exist?”

Dear Peg.

(where to start)

First, not a fan.

Second, lemme get this straight: I can’t knit and be a feminist. I can’t like cupcakes or sitting in a garden and think that my vagina is not the point of my life. I can’t be educated and like to be pretty, too. Do I have it?

You ask know what happened to our bad-assery while making fun of the choices women have made. Maybe you didn’t get the memo: feminism is about choices.

That means that as a Riotgrrl from way back I wrote zines and played music and fought and shouted and said what I needed to say in my Third Wave way so that some idiot can come along and have her say. And have her say is that I am no longer a bad ass because I knit.

Actually, this is one of the reasons WHY I am a bad ass. I am not embarrassed by women like you. The bullies who need to put down the choices of other women, because you see them as “too girly.” I fought for the right to make choices, and I am making them. Because you don’t like the choices I am making does not make you more of a bad ass. It just makes you a Mean Girl.

And let us be very, very clear here. Being a Mean Girl in NO WAY makes you a feminist. Ever. It just makes you mean.

I am reminded of a panel I was once on consisting of Second Wave (Civil Rights Leaders) and Third Wave Feminists. I was, of course, on the side wearing Blue nail polish, Doc Martens and a BITCH t-shirt. I didn’t say much during the conversation until the end.

Many of the Second Wavers were telling us how hard they had it so we could have it easy. And they wanted to know why we didn’t understand that. They dismissed us as “not getting it” and we were living (in your words) “in a silly fantasy.” I finally spoke up.

I asked them then and I ask you now. “But isn’t that the point? Didn’t we have the fighters who created a world where I have the right to make my own choices instead of having them made for me? I was told it was my right to have choices. Now you are telling me I need to THANK you. Well, which is it? A right? Or a gift?”

Ms. Aloi, do you not see that you are doing the same thing by demanding that women not like cupcakes because it isn’t violent enough? I am not fighting a nail polish war here, just one for equality. I notice that you do not bust on the male blogs who talk about cupcakes or knitting. And they are out there. I can direct you to them if you like. No, you just bust on the women. This behavior, in case you were unaware (and I suspect you are) is SEXIST.

And then (and this is the best part) you cite women on television. You really didn’t get the memo. Most of us who are feminists don’t buy into media and the male gaze, or in your case, the female gaze of what and or who is bas ass. Because frankly, I don’t think you have ever seen an ass that is bad. I can turn around and show you mine if you want.

I want my children, both male and female, to be able to eat cupcakes, play baseball, wear sparkly nail polish, like flowers and most importantly, not be held accountable for their genitalia by women like you.

Just sayin’

learning curve

Wow. Lots going on this week:

School is back in session so I have a three o'clock pick up time again.

But not all schools so I am still coaching and teaching swim lessons

All the over-achieving kids who want their early decision and early actions for next year are asking for extra sessions before September first. One guy who wants West Point hadn't even started his essays.

I started blogging for and had to learn an entirely new desktop publishing tool as quickly as possible, PLUS how to deal with photos in this not so great or likeable tool. (not fun or intuitive). Read the guidelines wrong, thinking I had to post on the Deb WITHIN a certain time, and not AFTER a certain time (oops), so had to take down three posts. (Don’t worry; they will be back up as soon as I can put them back up).

Most of shops have placed their initial knitting orders for fall, so my hands are moving constantly,

And, I have been rediagnosed with walking pneumonia. And the antibiotics are kickin’ my ass, so the one thing I was doing for myself (working out with a personal trainer), I have been told not to do this week.

And Away we go.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

when an angel gets her wings

Today was a good day. After all the usual meeting with clients and cleaning the kitchen, I went to a wine and cheese party to celebrate the publishing of a friend's book. And I found out, her second in the series has also been done gone and published. The Author's name is Heather Haven, and her books are murder mysteries.

She is hilarious. Both in print and real life.

If that were not enough, many of my writer buddies whom I have not seen in a while were there. I am so happy to be a part of a system that is so supportive of one another. We all bought books from her, and had her sign them. We all drank her wine (writers are good at that) and ate her cheese (that too), talked about writing, and books and laughed a lot. It was all very civilized, and I thought to myself, Academics and scientists don't do this. We don't support one another's work and applaud like we mean it when another person wins something. No, no, we want to cut their throats. Or at the very least shoot a poisoned dart in their eye. The left one.

Writers seem to realize that there are tons of books and tons of writers and ultimately, Heather's success is not my failure. It is Heather's success, and she worked damn hard for it. So clap your hands, and know that when it is your turn, she will be there for you too, clapping just as hard. And knowing Heather, probably harder.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


So I will be blogging for Care2 which I am pretty excited about. Not only will my readers be able to enjoy my snarky little self here at The Deb, but also about real world issues over at Care2. For those of you have not discovered Care2, it is the largest online community for healthy and green living, human rights and animal welfare. For those of you who know me personally, this is not such a huge surprise. These are all things I rant about on a regular basis. Well now, I will be getting paid to do so. It isn't much, but my voice gets heard, and what is the point of having a mind if you can't speak it?

Sunday, August 14, 2011

up and running

A blog is generally for the person who is writing it. Hopefully the readers get something out of it too, but if they don't, the blog will still have served its' purpose for the writer. This blog is a grown up incarnation of one that I had three years ago, same name, and a zine I started in college, and then picked up again later in grad school. All with the same name. so if you have read me somewhere before, then welcome back, and if you never have and are only here because i am your friend somewhere on the web, rock on, It is delightful to be writing again, and this time, I am hoping to establish something called a platform.

Evidently, in the publishing world these days, you need to establish a readership consisting of blogs, twitters (my twitter name is mhaire - follow me), FB and other social media. Since I am writing a novel (I am almost done, thanks for asking) and love social media, I got pretty excited about this. It is a form of self promotion, which I am not into - (I mean, who wants to be all Timothy Ferris about it), but one I can get behind. The bottom line is that if you don't like how I write or what I have to say, then you won't read or follow me. Fine. Cool. That is the beauty of this type of self-promotion. It is self-selected.

But I hope you do. I hope you do like what I have to say and I hope you do follow me.

Wander around. What else should I have up? What would you like to see?