Quill & Claw/Pen & Paw

I called another senator today. I've called so many these past years, I've realized-I can't remember who I actually called, perhaps, let alone, why. I have friends who are younger than me. Fury motivating their activism and it is absolutely awesome. I see them, straight, white, and still fighting for equality for those not in their socio-economic strata. In fact, they're blessed/cursed with white privilege and that they use to get people to listen to them. They march. They call. They stand. It's awesome. Seeing them fight so hard for people like myself and my community, I feel I have to match them on every level. But I notice that the breaks between the activism gets longer and longer. I mentioned earlier, in my previous blog post, I'm the accidental tourist here. I did not chose to be so blessed with being queer, but, garshdarnit, I'm going to be it. I will scream my pride, I will fight for my rights, and I will see my community survive. But a...

There's a story making the rounds now about an entitled employee who is a writer. In the tale ( The actual article ) where the author a particular article misspells the term "hamster" (as in 'like a hamster in a wheel') with the term "hampster." As the youth submits the article, the editor corrects it, and several other mistakes, and the young author loses composure. Literally cannot even. She cannot accept the advice she is being given. I am not that much of a schmuck. Writing for periodicals, I've developed the habit of handing works over to others and letting them edit them and tell me I'm stupid. I don't take it personally. I probably should. But, I've had several superiors look at me, "well, you're handling this well." No. I'm handling it like I'm supposed to be. Those others aren't writers. Advice, really, is for the willing, truly. And it's difficult. In accepting advice, we have to admit t...

I can see the end of the summer before and I'll being an new year of school teacher. This is a good thing, cause it'll be my 10th year at this specific district and that holds a certain weight. It means I like SOMETHING there, but sometimes it must be a bit obscure. But the summers, since moving to Florida, have taken on a new character, something I didn't experience in the wilds of the mountains of Colorado. Here? The spirit of renewal is potent, which is weird. Normally, such things are linked to the seasons, the visible, if not downright tangible, series of events that affect us on a daily basis. Here? I'm stuck seeing time pass by the school years, something most adults don't have. No seasons, there. So the summer time is when I reconnect with my identity, my spirit, and my goals in life. I decided after my Master's was completed that I was done with schooling in its traditional forms. I caught both mono and walking pneumonia those last three months and ...

Hating is such a strong word. I try my best not to. Even when things sour, I mention a dislike. Even when it comes to talking about the current government, I won't say, in particular, that I HATE it. Only because, well, that'd be what everyone else is doing at the moment! So to say I hate something is to suffer from a severe buyer's remorse. I mean, to really, well, you know, strongly dislike, would mean that I had to accept a certain amount of loss, a certain amount of dissatisfaction, to the point where I would give up, totally. I don't impulse buy. I like to think that it's an aspect of selflessness, some deep meaning, whereas I'm so connected to my faith that I askew all material existence and, truly want to give up things and live in a hovel in the woods, pooping in an outhouse and meditating. Yeah. Right. But there's a half-truth here. I'm just not one for things. My grandparents on my father's side were hoarders. As a grand kid? It was...

Another title being used, again. Has it been over a year? To my credit, I was working on a novel, and, when lightening strikes, I needed to follow through. I also have been terrific this working year to journal on a daily basis. That, alone, probably helped me ponder on the page more than usual this year. I take the daily time to list my aggravations, but, once upon the page, I see how short the list is. I have been wanting to write since I finished the novel, but, alas, inspiration has been far and few between. Strangely, I've noticed, without the book hanging over me, I'm able to read a bit more and I'm consuming media at a different rate than I normally do, watching Netflix and Hulu without the guilt that floats in the back of mind that I should, in fact, be doing something in relation to writing. As for today? I have a topic for the day on the journals, but I'll go ahead and make the comments, here, in public, to put pen to paper and to get the words a bit mor...