R.B. O'Brien's Blog, page 4

GRIT

Every wants it. And everyone wants it now. The quick fix. The fast sale. The get-rich quick scheme. The lose weight by some miraculous drug. What ever happened to hard work? Patience? Paying dues? Why is everyone is such a rush to “be” the future when the present is being completely ignored?

Every day when I open social media, I am bombarded with something. I feel like I’m living in Brave New World. The pill that will cheer me up. The drink that will make me skinny overnight. The scheme that will really sell my books. Ads upon ads upon ads. And it’s eating us alive until we are dead shells. The pressure. The noise. The friends grabbing the gold rings really made of straw.

We want to be the best. We want to look good. We want to succeed. But let’s work for it.
Sweat. Grab the yoga mat and get to the gym. Put on some sneakers and hike.

Eat what we wish to be. Grab an apple. Put color in your diet, green especially.

Work hard. Get up with work ethic.  Set goals. Write them down if you have to. Check them off as you go. And don’t cut down people or corners.

Feed your mental health with reading and writing and healthy habits.

Surround yourself with friends who are there and stop worrying about those who always go absent.

Be alone too. And learn to like it.

Breathe.
There is no such thing as a quick fix. Not unless you want the huge crash afterwards. It won’t last. Angela Duckworth’s noteworthy book and philosophy GRIT lays out what really fosters success. And it’s not the most intelligent. “Grit is the perseverance and passion to achieve long–term goals” and “is a strong predictor of success and ability to reach one's goals.” In fact, “When comparing two people who are the same age but have different levels of education, grit (and not intelligence) more accurately predicts which one will be better educated” (https://jamesclear.com/grit). Grit isn’t talent. Grit isn’t luck. Grit isn’t how intensely, for the moment, you want something.

I recommend the book if you’re finding yourself in a constant downward spiral of chasing the quick fix. We are becoming, no HAVE BECOME, a nation of laziness. That is what’s killing our spirit. And I refuse to live that way. 

Reversing Roe v. Wade Is Catastrophic

Okay. Deep breath. Politics. No one wants to talk about it and everyone is. No one wants to get into debate, because we don’t know how. Everyone is always right and nobody is, because NO ONE is everyone, and no one can put themselves into anyone else’s shoes the way Atticus Finch wishes we could. We say we do. We say we don’t judge. We say one thing but do another. That’s the problem. Reversing Roe v. Wade is catastrophic. Period. (NYTimes article if you’ve been living in a cave https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/14/us/abortion-law-alabama.html).
 
But before I give my opinion, and that is what my blogs are, so move right past this one if you don’t want to roll your sleeves up and get a little dirty,  I want to point out a couple points of fact. “Mr. Johnston, who drafted the Alabama bill…” Problem #1. MR. Johnston. I’m not even arguing that point.What state has the worst schools? You guessed it. While Lousianna is the worst, Alabama ranks 44. Alabama’s math scores ranked 50th, one shy of the bottom of the list. Alabama came in 43rd when it came to reading scores. Alabama came in 43rd when it came to reading scores. Alabama ranked 36th when it comes to state spending on education. (https://www.al.com/news/2017/08/alabamas_schools_ranked_8th_wo.html)Alabama’s history is a painful one and it keeps on keeping on. Let’s not pretend we don’t know that. The publisher of a small local newspaper in Alabama penned an editorial calling for the Ku Klux Klan to "ride again" is a prime example (NPR.org). Read full article here: https://www.npr.org/2019/02/25/697694443/alabama-publisher-who-called-for-kkk-to-ride-again-is-replaced-by-black-woman.Further, Alabama ranks low in almost every category we care about: Health Care #46 Education #50 Economy #45 Opportunity #45 Crime #46. (USNews.com)And sadly, too, Alabama is the sixth poorest state in the U.S. (BirminghamTimes.com)
Are you making the connections?

The topic of abortion is never an easy one. No one advocates excitedly, spiritedly and with great glee and happiness for such a thing. No one is excited about abortion. No one cheers for it. NO ONE. It’s messy. It’s ugly. It’s leveled with nuances and grey spots and circumstances and a myriad of factors, and nothing about it is black or white. Can we not agree on that?

What we differ on is what constitutes life. The embryo, the fetus, a baby…all that is debatable, but science has pretty much proven that too. So let me point out something else. Non-Christian faiths make up only 1% of Alabama by every consensus out there. Making another connection? I hope so. No religion should guide political or human rights decisions. That is yet another fact. The biggest thing I want people to think about today is that what comes with these facts I’ve outlined above. If you say ‘they’ have no voice in the womb and we must protect them, then the flip of that is true as well once they are actually a living, breathing person. Children being born into these circumstances is ALSO of no will of their own, and their chances are not great--possible, of course, I will concede--but shall I list the facts regarding unwanted children, overflow of adoption clinics, and how poverty and lack of education ranks into these chances?

Let’s put it more succinctly then: They have no voice against child abuse. They have no voice against poverty. They have no voice against hunger. They have no voice against racism. They have no voice against poor education. They have no voice against health. They have no voice against violence. They have no voice against homelessness. They have no voice to be unwanted or loved. They. Have. No. Voice.
​
You tell me which is worse? Let’s THINK about that.

Narcissism

​Lately, I hear a lot people use the word “narcissist” to describe someone. It’s particularly common in the writing community. At times, it seems to be used loosely, when someone in a person’s life doesn’t behave in a way that makes any true sense. They are basically assholes and then narcissistic seems to be the only explanation.

Do you believe this term is losing its meaning? Are we all basically narcissists in ways but on a sliding scale? So many of the traits seem embedded in so many people these days. Kindness is overlooked and a trend of entitlement and self-aggrandizing seems to be an accepted norm. So when does it become apparent that a person with strong tendencies for narcissism is really just a toxic person in your life? And when do you stop trying to change them?

You can’t. You can NOT change them. And they won’t EVER see it. So is it time to simply expunge these types of people from your life? To the non-narcissistic person, it’s very hard to swallow that this person won’t “see the light” at some point, if we just try a little harder to “talk” to them, especially when they have moments of warmth and seeming compassion.
The only treatment for this disorder is therapy—but can a narcissist be open to therapy? Seems counter-intuitive. Here are some traits I’m sure you’re aware of. You’re probably going to read them and say: Who in this whole world doesn’t have some of these traits and then ask the obvious: Am I a narcissist??

As listed from the Mayo Clinic:Struggle with their emotions of anger and interpersonal relationships, often reacting with rage or contempt where they try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superiorAn exaggerated sense of self-importance, exaggerating achievements and talentsFeel depressed and moody because they fall short of perfection but have secret issues of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliationHave a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admirationExpect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it and don’t think they should associate with those “below” themAre preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mateDon’t ever really listen but monopolize conversationsExpect everyone to do things for them because they are so special but rarely do in return if ever and become angry when these “favors” are not doneTake advantage of others to get what they wantHave an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of othersAre envious but believe the world envies themBehave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious Seems like some of these contradict each other, huh? Maybe that is why it’s so hard to determine if a person causing you angst has this personality disorder or not.
​
I am not psychologist or doctor, (I just play one in my blogs

Make A Wish...

When I saw pollen floating down from the sky today outside the window in this ethereal way like tiny feathers, I couldn’t help but think of wishes. And then I remembered the scene I recently watched in the Michael Fassbender version of Macbeth, where Lady Macbeth, played by Marion Cotillard, is sitting to perform her “madness” scene, and at first, I thought it a little dull, except that she is magnificent. Her facial expressions, alone, tell everything.

But the floating dust, the pollen, those feather-like things we often think of when blowing a dandelion not yet mature to make a wish, said something in this scene. It wasn’t a distraction as one might think at first, but an enhancement. And I think it led to the symbolism of the moment, the symbolism of how we lead our lives. Maybe I’m thinking too deeply about it. Maybe it was purely accidental, and the director marveled: "Oh wow. How fortunate." Maybe they did it on purpose to create a dream-like sequence, a sort of ghostly allusion, specters in the air, omens. Maybe they, themselves, didn’t even notice.

It might make sense if you really stop to think about it. We make wishes. We certainly did as children, running freely, playing in fields, picking up the flowers and blowing them into the wind as we wished for silly things like later bedtimes or ice cream cones or beach days and sunny days or to be kissed for the first time. But wishes are what we make them, aren’t they? And sometimes, perhaps, what we wish for can become a regret. “Be careful what you wish for.” It certainly became that way for Lady Macbeth. Oftentimes, when we wish, it’s because we WANT something. We want fame or love or more money or…just plain--more. The adage less is more seems appropriate in this light. It seems the moment our wishes come true, we begin to think of the next wish, a bigger wish, a better wish, a wish that gets us what we want all over again. When we get it, sometimes these wishes can come at big costs. Can you think of a time this was so in your life? I wish I had—or I wish to be—or I wish he would—But at what cost? Are we not living but instead wishing away moments?

Perhaps the wish should be just this. Just now. To just live in the right-now moments we are almost always missing, wishing, wishing away, because we’re not recognizing any present moments fully. Maybe the flowers truly know more than us. By blowing them away and wishing, we are spreading their seeds all around, some would even say to make more weeds, rather than letting them be what they could be by staying. Still. In their moment to blossom naturally. Just as we will, in our due time. We have much we can learn from nature. Let’s be still. And listen.

Humanity First?

In one of my classes yesterday, we discussed the idea of UBI-Universal Basic Income. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a philosophical proposal one of the US presidential candidates is proposing, Andrew Yang:

“Universal Basic Income (UBI) is a form of social security that guarantees a certain amount of money to every citizen within a given governed population, without having to pass a test or fulfill a work requirement. Every Universal Basic Income plan can be different in terms of amount or design. 

Andrew Yang is running for President as Democrat in 2020 on the platform of Universal Basic Income. The UBI he is proposing for the United States is a set of guaranteed payments of $1,000 per month, or $12,000 per year, to all U.S. citizens over the age of 18. Yes, that means you and everyone you know would get another $1,000/month every month from the U.S. government, no questions asked.”
 
I am no expert on this. And I don’t pretend to be. I’m a writer. A poet. A teacher. But I am human first. And I am a thinker. I’m trying to learn more about it. Do some research. Read.
 ​ The debate ran the gamut in the classroom. It was split pretty 50/50. What was most startling, however, were the responses to Yang’s slogan: “Humanity first.” Many, though not outright stating it, basically said: No. Me first. 

Is that the type of society we’re living in? Is that what capitalism really is? Do people really care about humanity? About the welfare of others? Do most just blame and say: Not my problem? Does it come down to what economic class you may fall into?
 
I, myself, work hard. Every day. But I don’t pretend I didn’t have a lot of help to get where I am financially. I had good parents. I had parents who worked hard their whole lives just so I could have a head start. I went to private college and I came out with little loans. I know I’m fortunate and lucky. My cards were dealt with lots of kings and queens. But I see daily that so many are not fortunate that way, even those working day in and day out--hard. And though they are trying, they are way behind the 8 ball to make it. If it comes down to feeding themselves or their children or going to college, they don’t have the resources to choose the latter. Decisions, opportunities—they aren’t plentiful for many.
 
I’m not sure how I feel about Yang yet. Of course, theoretically, his proposal seems wonderfully human. And my god do we need to remember that! It’s that outside-of-the-box thinking I admire and respect. What I do know for sure is this. We have people who live paycheck to paycheck. We have people who can’t find their next meals. We have people homeless. We have children in dire conditions due to poverty of no choice of their own. And at the same time, we have people with private jets and more money than any one person could possibly ever need in 10 lifetimes. If you don’t see a problem with that disparity, you probably won’t give UBI a second look.
But I know I do my best when I can actually feel my shoulders untucking from my ears, when the strain of just simply breathing becomes less labored, how simple love from another human being can actually DO things. Imagine having some stress alleviated to be the best we can be. To follow some dreams. To foster our talents. Now exhale and get started.

R.B. O'Brien...on Intuition

Do you believe intuition really exists? Some days I do. Somedays I don’t. Even as I write this I’m all over the map! But I think I’ve discovered something about it.

We tend to wish it away when it doesn’t suit us. We get into relationships or do things we knew we shouldn’t have, do it anyway, and then put out blame. If we had just listened from the get-go to our gut, we would see that.

Ever ask yourself why you can’t open up fully to someone, even after a very long time? We usually say: “Oh, that’s just how I am. I don’t open easily. It takes me a long time to trust.” But those are excuses we use. We know damn well why we don’t. Whether we’ve been burned before or not, those of us who do take our time, discover just why we didn’t open to that person. The truth eventually presents itself. I’m slowly coming to that realization.

Maybe it’s that the person shows brief moments of the person they really are early on but quickly put the mask back up, and we accept that. We see what we want. We see what we hope is there oftentimes, not what is really there.

So my advice you didn’t ask for: Never make excuses for the way you behave or feel. There is a reason. And that reason is usually, if not always, correct. 

In Wake of Notre Dame

Question: In light of what happened, sadly, to Notre Dame, my question today asks:
Should writers use real places and things in their novels or will it date it? 

In wake of the tragedy of Notre Dame. My book "Edge of Torment" takes place partially there, on the banks of the Seine...and I'm reminded of a passage:

"We found a spot on the south side of the river, with a spectacular view of Notre Dame. I couldn’t help but notice the ominous look of it with the gray color and gargoyles. Still, something about it, the stained-glass windows and overall grandeur of the building and its architecture, perhaps, put into perspective my life. I needed to be in the moment. Embrace why I had come to Paris in the first place. That my problems were pretty mundane and insignificant juxtaposed next to the history surrounding me. I was but a speck, and I laughed, thinking about Dr. Seuss. “A person’s a person no matter how small.”
This couldn't be more true today. :( 

But should I remove it from the story? It is mentioned a total of four times in the novel, which some of you may have already read, and it is a romantic element in the story. I could write a little foreword and update the novel, take it out altogether, or just leave things the way there are. What say you?

I'm inclined to say: Some things are meant to simply stay preserved, like a memory, exactly as we want it to be. The story of Annabelle and Michael will change...and so, too, does history. But our fiction doesn't have to. Because, after all, isn't that what reading is for?
​
Edge of Torment https://buff.ly/2Uk0ql8

If you could be the opposite sex...?

I was asked a question yesterday that I thought would be so easy to answer: If I woke up as the opposite sex, what would be the first thing I would want to do? For a moment, traditional ideas of careers and roles popped into my head. And I shook my head. "No. No. No." That is no longer true! I exclaimed to myself. Then the even more obvious answers jumped into my head: run around with no shirt, grow a beard, pee standing up, kiss a girl, make a girl climax perfectly, sing baritone, and on and on.

But besides growing a beard (which frankly, I wouldn’t really care to), there is absolutely NOTHING I cannot do as a woman if I want to. And that was a revelation. Gender roles are no longer stuffed into tight, tiny boxes like pointe shoes. And I’m proud of the progress humanity is making. Being the opposite sex, however, for a day, would certainly enlighten us and give us more empathy towards one another.

We still hear how unequal our world is when it comes to gender equality. But frankly, I, personally, don’t feel that way. I don’t think I’ve ever truly felt that way, even with a mother who wished it so. I not only enjoy being a woman, but further, there is absolutely nothing I can’t do if I want to work at it. I truly believe that. And in a society now being open more and more to sexual identity and gender reversals, I can kiss a girl any damn time I want! (I should probably get on that!

Listen to the Birds: Spring Is Coming!

I’m looking at a nest precariously sitting in a tall tree, and the birds look like floating leaves in the clear, blue spaces between the branches. And hear them, even with my windows shut. Spring is coming! And it demands to be noticed. It feels…different. It’s as if your whole body reacts to the change, and something shifts. That heavy winter, the one that made you drag your feet every morning in the dark cold, where coffee wasn’t hot enough, now shifts to hope, like those floating leaves, and something says, deep inside you—Clean up. Get it together. Shake that baggage.  Simplify. Become lighter!

It makes me want to strap on my Converse and walk and notice and breathe. That’s what spring is. BREATH. It’s the conscious inhaling and exhaling of breath. And that does more for our psyche than any drug or substance. It is a physical and mental warmth. It’s a meditation, if you let it be. You put your head to the sun and let it warm you, and FEEL it, not superficially. You feel less harried. Less stressed. You don’t want to rush the way you do in winter. There is no longer a need to rush from house to car to car to building to car again to get anywhere but the cold, running to get out of the pelts of snow or wind. Instead, you feel your neck removing itself from your ears. You let your arms hang in a natural rhythm by your side. You’re no longer freezing. It’s quite fascinating when you stop and really think about it. That tension of pulling coats close and tucking scarves into necks so they don’t move as you walk is gone. You don’t even mind standing in one place. You feel each muscle unfurling, the tension and aches--gone. You can…think. That blue is brighter than any color you’ve ever seen.
So what will you do to stop and breathe? What baggage will you leave behind? Sit for a bit. Watch the birds-- for they are "the secrets of living”—and hear them, even if it’s the first time.

Head-Hopping. What Say You? What Is the Difference Between Omniscient POV and Head-Hopping?

I'm having a dang time with my latest novel, which I love, let me tell you! It's my first foray into Third Person, Omniscient (I've done limited before), and I fear the dreaded swear word: "Head-Hopping." How does an author get into the heads of her characters without jarring the reader out of the groove? 

I've come across two blog articles I share with you here, and there seems to be no definitive answers! I'll share them with you here: WHAT MAKES OMNISCIENT POV DIFFERENT FROM HEAD-HOPPING and THE OFFICIAL RULES ON HEAD-HOPPING.

So because this argument runs the gamut, I'd like to ask you to read a short excerpt and provide your opinion. Can I head-hop within the same scene? Or is that a big no-no? Do I need to only switch perspectives from chapter to chapter? (Oh. That will really fuck things up!). Did you even notice? If Nora Roberts can do it, why can't I? (Don't answer that. I realize the obvious answer. LOL!)

I welcome your comments. Please! Constructive. Brutal. Honest. Just Feedback PLEASE! I'm so close to finishing this story...Thank you for your help! UNEDITED EXCERPT:

​“Okay.” She started to comb her hair and realized how snarled it was, as she hadn’t left the conditioner in long enough, fretting over Colton in her dorm room, alone, doing who knows what.

“You can come sit on the bed with me. I don’t bite, Princess,” Colton offered.

She was petrified. Petrified that he would see how affected she was by his presence. She had this wet discomforting ache between her thighs just by being in the room with him, so close, and yet she didn’t want to let on.

“I know that.” She walked over and sat down.

“So…we left off pretty early. I think we have seven questions to go.” He looked for the handout in his book bag as she tried to yank the comb out of her hair, realizing it was stuck.

“Fuck,” she grumbled.

Colton started laughing. “Need help?”

“No. I’m fine.” She pulled the comb in vain.

“Come here.” He scooted over to her, leaving little to no room between them. She held her breath as Colton tangled his fingers in her hair, trying to free the rogue comb.

His hand accidentally brushed her breast and she gasped, not knowing if he even realized it.

She thought she might actually hyperventilate. “Do you have it?” she asked, barely audible.

“You have so much hair, Lauren,” he spoke softly back to her, and she felt her body trembling. He was rarely kind to her. Her face was only inches from his. She could smell a mixture of chocolate and something else, something she was dying to taste on his breath. He looked into her eyes, smoldering her, igniting her in such a way that she had to suppress every urge, every instinct, every desire not to beg him to kiss her. She almost just blurted it out.

It felt like they were frozen like that, stuck in the moment, both desiring one another and not being able to act or move.

He got closer, if that was even possible, trying to remove the tangled hair from the comb. He didn’t let go of her eyes. “Why were you crying today, Lauren?” His voice was husky, low.

She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to wreck whatever moment they were having.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

She shut her eyes. Squeezed them tight. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to admit that he had affected her, was affecting her. She didn’t want to tell him her whole, horrible past.

His fingers danced in her hair and she stifled a moan. It felt so good.

He grabbed her face in his hands. “Look at me.” He spoke so tenderly. She didn’t understand him, what he was doing with her. One minute cold. The next, hot. “Please,” he said. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes as he held her face in place. He wanted to kiss her, desperately. He knew she wanted him to, at least in that moment. He knew she did. Her eyes told him everything. And right then, they were a brilliant blue.
​
“Colton.” Her tone was greedy, begging for something.

“I don’t want you to cry.” And what he said next was not what he had planned. “I want to make it better.”

She couldn’t breathe. It was all-consuming. He was all consuming. It was a pleasurable suffocation, but it would kill her if he didn’t do something, kiss her, tell her he cared, something, anything. Her whole body pulsed. Her lower belly tightened into something she had never felt as warmth spread out between her thighs. She felt like she'd never be able to catch her breath.

“What the…” Beth froze upon opening the door.

Colton let go and Lauren pushed herself away from him as quickly as she could, letting all the air escape her lungs that she had been holding in, as he left her there, wobbling, unsure of what had just happened.

Lauren tried to find composure, embarrassed, searching Colton’s eyes again, but he was gone, distant, holding the questionnaire, as if they hadn’t just shared a tender, close moment.

“What’s going on Masters?” Beth probed. “Are you okay, Lauren?”

“Yeah of course…I…we…”

“She’s fine, Beth. We were just catching up on some homework. I was just leaving.”

“Homework? Really, Colton? You must think I’m stupid or blind or something.”

“I got my comb stuck in my hair,” Lauren explained, pointing to the virtual bird’s nest stuck in her hair. “Colton was helping me to get it out.”

“Oh shit.” Beth couldn’t help but start laughing. “Let me.”

Beth sat next to them on the bed, taking up the space between them that had appeared the moment she opened the door and ruined the moment.

Colton stood up. “Later,” he said as he made his way to the door. His white t-shirt was dripping wet from Lauren’s hair. She couldn’t believe how close he had been to her. She didn’t want him to leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” Lauren offered and got up as Colton was already exiting the room.
​
“No need, Lauren. I’ve got stuff to do.”