R.C. Johansen's Blog, page 2

New and Old Beginnings

Earlier this summer I made the decision to finally go back to school and dedicate myself to finishing my degree. It isn't just because I have struggled on and off about whether I should bite the bullet and be a doctor, but I also recognize that this year I am 28 and it's time for a stable career with a 401k and a future. Writing is wonderful, and I know so many doctors that are also writers, so I have no fear for my future in that field. However, it is unreliable. How likely is it that I am going to become a best seller? Probably not terribly likely, although with hard work I could make it happen, probably. The issue is: the job I am doing now, while in the field of medicine, is not a job I want to be doing even one year down the line. It was a stop-gap. A way to bridge the world of EMS with the world of hospital medicine. A way to make the same amount of money--or more--than I did as an EMT and for literally half the hours a week. It was always meant as a stepping stone to getting into school and continuing on to be a doctor. And, while I have struggled with that decision because I have been afraid of committing myself to a lifelong education in medicine that I may one day regret, I know that I cannot continue in my life happy and healthy if I am not challenged every day. My current job doesn't challenge my mind, and I find myself bored almost every hour I continue to do this job. I need more, and I want more.I have learned many things in the ten years since I first left home for college. The main one being--nothing is a mistake, everything is worth it, and there are no regrets if you don't allow there to be. So, I'm going to do it. I'm going to finish my degree and hopefully move on to medicine. I have a plan B and C of course, but the dream is to be a physician and I will never be satisfied until I try.Unfortunately, I am having to put off my return to school for a year. Another damn year. I have a lot of debts built up and pretty crappy credit. I need to correct those problems so that I can move on full-speed. So, I am going to take this year and work at a job that pays me very well to be bored ninety percent of the time. I'm going to take a lot of call and make money so I can pay off a bunch of shit and stop regretting my past. And I am going to read--oh my god, am I going to read. I'm going to read everything. And I'm going to try to come here and share what I have read with you.This is much more than just the book I have written or the book I have read. This is a journey in education. A 28-year-old heading back to college to be a 32-year-old first-year med student. But, it's important to me that I accomplish this, that I move beyond the rut I am currently occupying. And so, let it begin.I'm currently reading Contact. I will be sure to post a reaction as soon as I finish it, hopefully before the end of the week. :)

OJ Did It. (What, you thought he didn't?)

So, I started Without a Doubt, Marcia Clark's memoir of the Orenthal James Simpson murder trial, kind of thinking I had an idea of what went down. But, damn it, I was so, so wrong.First of all, let's address the negative media attention Marcia got throughout the trial. Oh, I'm sorry, a woman prosecutor is hard to swallow? What, can't comment on her questioning but oh, god, she changed her hair?! 
Yeah, America. DEAL WITH IT.

The most sickening part of all is that nothing has changed (see: media reaction to Hillary's pantsuits). It is unbelievable to me that something so benign as the reproductive organs of a particular person can completely paint the way the media portrays them. I guess it shouldn't be unbelievable. It's been happening this way for centuries. But, c'mon, aren't we all a little bit grossed-out by now? She is more than her hair or her clothes or her goddamn vagina. Get. Over. It.
Anyway, moving on. HOLY SHIT OJ KILLED NICOLE AND THAT OTHER GUY! (this is seriously how the media reacted. Nicole and "that other guy." Very few people ever discussed the murder of Ron Goldman, despite the fact that it was incredibly brutal and happened literally feet from the murder of Nicole Brown.)But, seriously dawg? OJ guilty. How could people not see how guilty he was? A glove with Nicole's and Ron's blood was found on his property. Ron's blood was found in his Bronco. They even found bloody clothes at his house.The thing is, this investigation was a cluster fuck.The persons in charge of collecting evidence missed more trace than they collected. Bloody socks and sweats? Nah, dawg, leave 'em. Bloody fingerprint on the gate? Eh, could be anything. The incompetence in the crime scene department was appalling and now I know why Assistant Chief Pope was all about starting up a Priority Murder Squad. 

Brenda Leigh Johnson is my spirit animal.*

Along with the failure to collect all of the glaring evidence against dear old Orenthal, the cop that collected the huge piece of evidence--that notorious glove--was seriously racist. Like, actually racist. Do I think he planted that glove? Hell, no. There is even photographic evidence supporting the fact that he didn't plant the glove. But, seriously, how are we supposed to take his testimony at face value when he lies about his past and has a history of racist behavior? Maybe as a cop he was fair--actually, he let OJ off once on a domestic call when Nicole was still living at Rockingham--but as a person, I don't think any of us would have trusted that dude. 
"Uh...so, there's this thing that might hinder people believing me when I'm on the stand.""Oh, yeah? What's that?""I like calling black dudes ni**er.""Yeah...that's gonna be a small problem there, friend."
Fucking unbelievable. Or, is it? SMDHThere is so much to this story that is absolutely insane. It truly is no wonder that it completely captured the imaginations of nearly all Americans for 134 days. 134 DAYS. It is no small wonder that Marcia retired from prosecuting pretty much the day after the verdict. HOW COULD YOU NOT? Also, I should mention, during the trial Marcia was going through a divorce and child custody hearings. I'm surprised she had any hair left after this case, because god knows I'd be pulling mine out Chris Turk style.There is so, so much nuance to this trial, I can only really give you my reaction, and that is HOLY SHIT. Let's take the jury. It was practically impossible for them to find a non-biased jury, and that bias leaned heavily toward OJ because of his celebrity in the Black community and the Rodney King trial's recent wrap up where those involved in his beating were completely acquitted. Then, let's take Lance Ito. He used to be a prosecutor, and while it shouldn't affect the way he behaves as an objective judge, it does. He goes easy on the defense when they clearly step over the lines of the law and appropriate courtroom etiquette. He wants to be Johnnie Cochran's friend. The impression I got from Johnnie was that he was everyone's friend until he didn't need them anymore. This is also true in regards to Shapiro. Just not cool dudes. Both of them wanted to be the star of the show, and that just wasn't happening. But, instead of keeping the huge legal team Simpson hired in line, Ito just sort of let them shit all over.

Dude, you can't try on an already form-fitting glove with latex ones on beneath and expect it to fit. Chris Darden, that shit's on you, bro.

Basically, what I took from this book is this: when you are a disenfranchised, poorly treated community and one of your heroes does something despicable, it's really hard to allow yourself to not be biased. Against the police who brutalize your community and constantly work to keep you down. And against someone like OJ, who came from the bottom and made a name for himself. As with many idolized men and women, their actions at home are typically overlooked for the good they do for the greater community. It's unfortunate, but try taking away or diminishing someone's hero and see how well they react to it. It won't go well.Even though there was more evidence than they needed to convict OJ, the perspective was that the law enforcement system was attacking a prominent Black hero, and that is ultimately why OJ walked.And, you know, if the LAPD--and many, many other law enforcement agencies--would have treated those members of the Black community as equal and as humans, that bias might not have existed. I think we should all be glad OJ got himself locked up before he killed again. 

So inappropriate. And, yet, so fucking funny.

This book...read this book. If you know all about the trial and followed it on TV or if you've only just heard about OJ thanks to the FX docudrama with Cuba Gooding, Jr. If only just to get a new perspective on Marcia Clark herself, read this book. I do not think you will regret it. I know that I don't.
*also: if you have never watched The Closer, you, friend, are seriously missing out!

More Deaths by Dino

So, once again, I am behind. Blogging is something that I enjoy, but rarely make time for, and I am really going to try and rectify that for the rest of the year. I whittled down my reading list to sixty-eight books--I've read twenty-five so far--again, still hopelessly behind--which makes for about two books a week until New Years Day. I have plenty of books in my house to accomplish this, I just desperately need to make the time. I spent a lot of time at the beginning of the year chastising myself for not writing. And a lot of time in the middle of the year trying to find the motivation to write. Gonna be honest, friends, it isn't coming to me this time around. I have the whole book plotted out,  but when it comes to writing it, there is a lack of inspiration. It falls flat, and so I am thinking of setting it aside for a moment and focusing on my other great love--reading.Last time, I reacted to reading Jurassic Park. I seriously enjoyed reading Jurassic Park. If you haven't read Jurassic Park yet, go do so. I'll totes lend you my copy--maybe. It is definitely a book that is worth reading, not just for the thrills and excitement of real-life dinosaurs tormenting terrified humans, but for the theories put forth by Crichton throughout the book. Evolution and extinction, the two points on a revolving cycle of life and death. If you have any interest in such things, you'll enjoy Jurassic Park for more than just the anticipation of every character being brutally eaten by a genetically engineered dino. Although, of course, that part is fun, too.


Can you blame him?

Following along with this theme of evolution and extinction, Crichton dives into the world of behavior and adaptation in book two, The Lost World.

RAAWWRR!ahem

Unlike the first book, this one took me much longer to finish. Granted, there were some things going on outside of reading that caused me to put off consuming this book, but I felt slightly less compelled by the catalyst of the story. Richard Levine wants to prove that extinction doesn't happen the way we think, he believes that there is such thing as a truly lost world, where ancient creatures still roam the earth. Of course, what he stumbles upon isn't a society of dinos that have been around for millennia, but an island of hopelessly instinct-less dinos that behave somewhat like you might imagine a group of rowdy teenage carnivores might. So, that makes for exciting reading. But, I didn't like Richard. I really love Ian Malcolm, who is back and annoying as ever with his theory and a constant need to explain that theory to literally any human with ears. And the wonderful Sarah Harding, who doesn't have any fucks to give and will go up against any carnivore in the ecosystem. It was great to see such a wonderful female character kicking ass and showing the boys what it means to be brave and selfless. And, along with that, there is yet another little girl on the island--Crichton loves making us worry about children--who benefits greatly from the presence and confidence of Dr. Harding. Win one for the ladies!There is a little boy on the island, too, but much like the other boys on the island--I'm looking at you, Richard Levine!--he's a little chicken. But, damn good on the computer. However, in the end, the true saviors of the day are the ladies, and I appreciate that.There is Doc Thorne, who is very much a badass himself. Along with Harding, he manages to save as many as he can and get them the holy living fuck off the island. He has a wonderful way of summing up existence and the very end of the book and I highly recommend listening to his advice.Again, as I said with the first book, I am glad that I read this book. Crichton's perspective is eerily prophetic and one that is worth hearing, especially as we careen toward our own extinction. It isn't so much about a catastrophic event anymore as it is about our behavior and the way we interact with the world around us. Definitely a lesson to take home and apply to one's life. It will be interesting to see how the sixth extinction comes along and even more interesting to put Ian Malcolm's extinction theory to the test.



By the way, the book is completely different from the movie, so, there's that reason to read it.

I am currently reading Contact by the wonderful Carl Sagan--another sadly dead dude. :( I will live tweet it as I read it, though tweets are kind of rare unless something truly insane happens. Refer to my live tweets of Marcia Clark's memoir of the OJ trial. (twitter handle: @Skeleton_Friend)
Speaking of! I will be posting about that wonderful book as well. Pretty much immediately after I wrap this up.
See you then!

Applied Chaos Theory

Just got home from a very long road trip following two months in Boise. I think I may have slept for twelve hours straight. Now, I am having carrot cake for breakfast--leftover from last night's pizza delivery--and amusedly watching my dog's holy-shit-we're-home, early morning shenanigans. My espresso machine is still in the car, but the whole thing is a moot point without milk, and I have none in my fridge. I have nothing in my fridge, except a large jug of purified water and probably some horseradish sauce.Before I left Boise and went on an insane road trip--Boise to Canton, Canton to Seattle, in six days or else because I had a job interview yesterday afternoon--I was thinking about starting to review--and when I say "review" I mostly mean "react"--the books I am reading here on this blog. Like I said, they would be reactions, more than anything. I am terrible at reviews. Usually, I don't do them at all, but the books I have been reading this year are books I consider highly important to the last century. Not necessarily classics, per se, but books that had an impact on the last 100 years. I started with Jurassic Park.


Now, it has probably been two solid decades since I saw the movie. Which would, FYI, have put me at around seven or eight. I believe this to be true. I know we rented it. That's about the best I can do.So when I picked up this book, I had an idea of what I was getting into. I remember pretty vividly the tyrannosaur throwing the SUVs around like playthings and the raptors in the kitchen, but other than a few vivid snaps of Ellie crouching by a downed herbivore and that same T-rex blasting through foliage, I didn't remember much. They, like, grew dinosaurs, yeah?So, I set out to read it.I had never before read anything by Crichton, and for that, I am ashamed. I am so sad to learn that he died in 2008. I absolutely loved this book and I can't wait to keep reading more of his stuff.More than enjoying the book, he inspired me as a writer. Read his bio, it is fascinating and fantastic. Definitely an excellent role model for aspiring best-sellers out there.The book was so much more science-based than I was expecting. I knew it was about cloning giant extinct animals, but I wasn't expecting the heavy inhabitance of chaos theory. I absolutely loved the character of Ian Malcolm--although it could have been pretty reliant on my imagining him as Jeff Goldblum. 


The book isn't about dinosaurs come back to life, or the sudden need to adapt as a species to their onslaught. No, it is about how mankind treats science and the Earth. We are setting ourselves up for the end, selfishly pursuing new scientific advancements that don't actually benefit the planet as an ecosystem. We are setting ourselves up for our own extinction, but worry not, for the Earth has endured worse and will endure again.


"You were so preoccupied with whether or not you could, you didn't stop to think if you should."
I should have written this blog last week when the book was fresh in my mind, but circumstances and whathaveyou. Know that it was a remarkably philosophical piece--along with all the thrills of running from twenty-ton monsters--and well, well worth the read. It is a little long, but the writing is enjoyable and easy to put away so you don't feel bogged down by the immense amount of science that is necessary to pull off such an idea. I really, truly enjoyed this book and I think you will, too. I haven't gone back to watch the movie yet--I am waiting until after I finish reading The Lost World--but don't just watch the movie. Read the book. It will be worth it.Overall, when I set the book down at the very end of it, I said--and still feel, "I am so glad I read this book."
Next up, I will react to Marcia Clark's memoir of the O.J. Simpson trial. EXCELLENT. Just putting that out there. 
Now, I am currently reading The Lost World and live-tweeting my reactions. I don't tweet them constantly, just as they come. If you want to follow along, you can catch me on Twitter under the name Skeleton_Friend.
In final news, I bought a book about the main scientific basis for Book Two aka The Skeleton Girls. However, despite changing my address, it was delivered to Boise. So, I am still waiting for it. In the meantime, I am perusing Forensic Magazine. I have a bunch of articles I want to share with you, so hopefully I will get around to that soon. I promise, fans, friends, and readers, I will try harder to put out more blog entries. I have things to say, I just never find the time. I will do everything I can to rectify that. And as far as writing goes, chapter one is done and I am on track to complete the first draft by the first of November. I am planning on releasing the first edition of The Skeleton Girls on January 3, 2017.
Go read Jurassic Park!!! You will not regret it. :)

The Skeleton Girls Comes to Life!

I have officially started Book Two! It feels great to have a chapter down, but honestly, I am still feeling really overwhelmed. What if I can't do it again? What if I am taking on too much this time? Even though I have successfully written one good book that people are really responding to, I am still terrified that this little dream of mine--becoming a full-time, well-selling author--is just a fantasy. As much as I like having the freedom to create my own look and run my own social media, I worry that if I don't ever get a publishing company interested in me I will never make it. I want so much to do it on my own--well, with the help of some wonderful friends. But will success come my way? Clearly I worry and think too much. Maybe that is why I am a writer.I am excited about the story I want to tell. There are a lot of elements that I have yet to really hash out, but as with TSF, I know most of that will come along as I write. I'm going to be focusing on isotope analysis for the main science in this book. Of course, there will still be plenty of anthropology--we will have a lot of skeletons to contend with--but isotope analysis is going to help Carly identify where these skeleton girls all came from and how they ended up dead in two cities, two thousand miles apart.If you haven't read Unidentified, you should do so before this book comes out. It is not only a prequel to TSF, but to this book as well. There is some interesting info in there that will give you an idea as to what Carly will be up against this time around.It will be a dual-city setting, with the first of the murders taking place in Seattle and the new murders taking place in Carly's new home of Chicago. Of course, Charlie will be back! But, there might also be someone else sneaking into Carly's life. You'll have to read to find out! Writing a book is thrilling and I am excited to be back at it. I really think this is going to be a fun story to tell. I will definitely keep up the work on getting out new stories for fans, but right now I am sorry to say I am blocked on what to do with those other ideas floating around in my head. Maybe soon I can knock one out. The book, though, I think is more important right now. It's already almost May and I am hoping for a January 3 release date.Eek! It's exciting, but I think I'm also getting an ulcer.

Book Two!!!

So, here is a little snippet of what I have written so far of book two. It's short and my first draft, but I am finally getting started. Let me know what you think!

The Skeleton Girls
Sometimes I still dream about sirens. The echo of them—bouncing against houses, reverberating off of sidewalks and asphalt streets—a melody on repeat. The corresponding colors, the memory of them dancing, penetrating the black city sky, play like a series of disjointed home movies on the insides of my eyelids, haunting my sleep with the weight of melancholic nostalgia. I usually wake with a cool sweat dappling my forehead, names of lost friends on my lips, the vision of blood spatter dancing in my head. But, not tonight. Tonight there will be little sleep. And the sound of sirens will be reality, police and emergency vehicles rushing to another scene of another crime in this city. The blood spatter that will stain the streets will be fresh and fragrant, the body it came from still very much warm. This city is full of homicide—gunshot wounds and ruthless beatings, initiations and executions. And I am deployed into the fray to point out how these killings happen, whether the cops should add another name in red to the long list of names filling their murder room murder boards. I am a medico-legal investigator—a woman charged with the responsibility of the dead. I’ve abandoned the world of the living and spend my days studying liver, rigor, bloating, and blood. I observe their bodies, assist in their autopsies, and inform their families of their passing. Often, I have to track down who they were. Often, there isn’t a straight answer to that question. In this city, this bloodied city, I am the conduit between the living and the dead. I wonder sometimes if my view of this city from my position in the morgue has tainted my opinion of this place. It’s a new city to me, still, though I’ve been here more than two years. It remains unfamiliar in many ways, uncomfortable and unfitted to my personality. I keep waiting for Chicago to grow on me and, as much as I like the snow, the city hangs around me daunting and heavy. Death comes every night, haunts every neighborhood, stalking with his scythe, his hood pulled tight against the cold. Tonight is no different. It’s past midnight in Chicago and the war is on.

Just a Heads Up, Really

I have always loved politics. Okay, that isn't true. When I was like, seven, I had no idea what they were. I knew Clinton was president, but I could not have told you what that meant. My life was small, don't judge, I wrote stories and hung out at home with my dog. Literally nothing has changed.Except that I really love politics.For this, I can blame Jon Stewart. When I was fifteen--three days after my birthday, actually--my parents began the official process of splitting up. I was never very close with my father to begin with, but this divorce would create a giant, Doctor Who-like time/space rift between us that I feel will probably never be repaired. I'm not crying over this anymore, but it is a sad part of my life. Anyway, that was the same year that I took a Civil War history elective pretty much because I am a nerd. My teacher, a very liberal man living in a very conservative state, was a HUGE Daily Show fan, and I admit I started watching just so I could participate in the discussions he and some of the older students had about politics and current events. Before 9/11, I really didn't understand how large the world is. Yes, on a universal scale we are completely infinitesimal, but in regards to this planet, we are great. Massive. I understood geography. I understood that I was an American. But, I did not understand the scale of the world we live in. I'm not even sure that I knew what the Twin Towers were. Yeah, that's pretty depressing. I was thirteen, man! Boy bands and shit!So, I started watching The Daily Show in a post-9/11 world and, I swear it on my life, the whole of who I am as a person was shaped in those moments. My ideologies, my thought processes, my passion--all of that stems from my Daily Show education. In a lot of ways, as my biological father began to walk out of my life, Jon Stewart became my surrogate father. I am a different person today because of that. Yeah, that's probably cheesy and weird and very millennial-esque. But, it's also true.You may yourself dislike politics, so this news isn't going to excite you, and for that I am sorry. But, I can't deny that I have a passion for the subject. I love understanding and learning about culture; I am fascinated by international affairs. For a long while, I was going to be the next Anderson Cooper--before the talk show--or Peter Bergen--the one that met Osama. I wanted to combine my love of writing with my love of the socio-political world. But, instead, I dropped out of college. Then, I was like, "I should be a doctor."Don't ask me why.Eventually, I came back around to writing. I was able to merge my newest passion--forensic anthropology and forensic sciences--with the very first passion and write a book. (Yeah, I still cannot believe it.) Now, I want to take it a step further and merge my second passion with the others. I want to comment on politics. And society. And have a voice beyond just writing books.But, I'm still totally going to write books.If you just want to be a fan of the books, that is great. I will happily have you in the family and supply you with as much as you can read--as fast as I can churn it out anyway. But, if you've read my book, you know that there is a much deeper message in the story. One that is dear to my heart. One that I am staunchly passionate about. And it isn't the only issue these days that I feel so strongly about. I want to talk about those things, too.It's going to be a long road, but I want to build a career for myself not just as an author, but as a voice. Of course, anything related to forensics, anthropology, or murder investigations that I find fascinating, I'm going to comment on those things, too. My dream, when I was six, was to be an author. My dream, when I was eighteen, was to be a securities expert and political commentator. My dream now is to find the perfect combination. And, finally, after all these years, I feel like I have the strength to raise my voice. So, keep an eye out friends. I'm going to be working on some pretty neat things here in the near future. I have to get around this major convention before I can really sit and focus--I literally cannot sit and focus. I can't even sleep. But, they are coming!FYI, you can now download The Skeleton Friend for iBooks if you have an Apple device. Some people don't have Kindle, and that is no real surprise, so I gave you another option. Shortly, hopefully, it will be available on Nook, we are just working out some issues with my vendor account. I dunno, some bank thing. I'm not really an economist.;)

Puzzle-Piece Furniture

Well, I'm still insanely and upsettingly exhausted. I have a feeling that isn't going to change for a while.Yesterday morning I was up--I kid you not--at two. In the morning. Twointhemorning.And I didn't go back to sleep.My lovely friend had emailed me the formatted version of The Skeleton Friend, so early yesterday morning, I put it up on Amazon. And that was it. It was official. I wrote a book, and now you can buy it and read it and it's a real thing. It's something I actually did. Not just something I would talk about doing for years, not just something I would dream about at night while I waited for sleep--nope; it's a real goddamn thing. A real thing that I did. I just--honestly, I cannot. I cannot believe it. I wrote a book. And you can go read the book I wrote! It's so crazy. I don't even know what to say about it, anymore. It's just fucking crazy.So, yesterday I was up well before the crack of dawn. I took Zoscha to the dog park as early as I could, coffee in tow, and we played for a good, long while under the fall of a light, sprinkling rain. I really love playing with the dog in the rain. There is something insanely captivating about hot, steamy breath billowing out into the cool air, getting chopped up by the falling rain. I was definitely made for the Pacific Northwest.After the park, I went to Ikea for the first time ever. I've purchased items from there before, but never lived in a city where one was so easily accessible, so I always had to have my puzzle-piece furniture delivered. Not yesterday! Yesterday, I experienced Ikea. And almost killed myself trying to finagle the box onto the flat cart all by myself. I managed it, but I'm honestly surprised I didn't bloody my nose or black an eye. I bought a desk! I needed one; I haven't had one in a year! I know, a writer without a desk. Up until yesterday, I did all of my writing at coffee shops and diners, but no more! Now I can write from the comfort of my own home with my dog at my feet and as much coffee as I can make.Speaking of coffee--to ensure that I can never leave home again, I bought myself an espresso machine with my tax return. I will literally spend the rest of existence in my house.So, I set everything up. I have boxes for receipts and plenty of space to work from home. And, the best part is, since I did all of this to set up a home office, I think I can write all of that off for my taxes next year. Or, at least, a portion. That will be helpful because next year will be the first year I will file as self-employed along with my W2 job. Meaning, next year's taxes are going to be a bitch. I have, up until this tax year, had a fairly easy time with my taxes. Yet again, I say, "no more!"So many changes. So little sleep.But, all of it is well worth it. I have three goals for this year:- Write Book Two: The Skeleton Girls- Publish a short story a month on Kindle and submit others to magazines.- Save enough to live for a whole year, so that I can take some time off and really focus on being a writer next year. (If it doesn't work out--Mom--I can always go back to scrubbing. But, I will tell you, my motivation to do this is skyrocketing. I am just, honestly, made for this and not for standing in an OR for twelve hours on my feet watching other people do surgery and handing them instruments every now and then. I am not saying what I do isn't important, because it is very important and very necessary. What I am saying is, I am bored and feeling little passion for the OR these days. I am a writer, I always have been, it's just taken me a while to remember that.)

Blue Lips Sink Ships--New Story Snippit

Something new I am working on, just a little short story that I will have available for download before the end of February!


Blue Lips

My hands are cold. Freezing. The beds of my nails are purple, tiny vessels constricted. The blood is being drawn away from my limbs, being kept for the survival of my most important organs. My body reacts without context, and my fingers are chilled to an aching point while the rest of me is wrapped up tight in my coat. The rain is relentless; the city lights shining reflections in slick streets.There has been a death, on this Pacific Northwest night, and I have been called out to the scene; but, for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I haven’t been a cop for two years now, and my pathology residency is still just in the hospitalist phase—just an intern in the lab, looking through the magnifying eyepieces of microscopes, trying to discern one type of tissue from the next. Every day I leave work with a neck ache and the soreness of strained eyes. One year in and I’m absolutely certain I won’t make it through the next three. But, I gave up law enforcement for a reason—an excellent and valid reason. Going back would break more than one promise.I became a doctor before I became a cop, but something stopped me from entering into residency at the usual time after graduation. Something about it wasn’t right; something about the way in which my life was heading. To this day, I don’t know why I did it, but after medical school, I joined the police department. It’s where, until two years ago, I had spent the last five years of my life. It was an identity; one that had to be shed. I cannot go back.Yet, here I stand, hair soaked from the downpour, fingers purple from the cold, staring down without feeling at the body of a dead man, blood already washed away with the rain.Why am I here?Cenk Ataseven stands across the street, hidden under a plain black umbrella as he gathers report from a uniform on crowd duty keeping the sidewalk clear. Cenk and I know each other from what surely was another life. He started at the academy the same year I did, but within three years had transferred far west following family to the progressive lands. Here, he recycles nearly every item he can and keeps a compost heap in his modest backyard. Anytime I cross his path, he chides me for the paper cup in which I carry my coffee or the bad habit I have of ignoring the signs and throwing every scrap of garbage in the trash can. We didn’t get along when we were academy cadets. Still don’t. There is a permanent rift between us two, something I don’t think either of us could put a finger on and pinpoint in order to stitch it up. I don’t think either of us cares that much; but, still, when I moved to the city I looked him up nearly first thing. I came out here to erase my past, but the second my feet hit the ground, I was already trying to connect my new life to my old. I regretted it nearly immediately; definitely after he invited me to dinner. I am just not the kind of person that gets along with Cenk Ataseven.And, yet, here I stand, looking down at the body he’s caught as the lead homicide detective on this beat. He called me here, to look down at this dead body, and I cannot fathom why.The black umbrella bobs hurriedly toward me. Cenk is dark and somber beneath it.“I’m sorry to call you out here,” he says without sounding sorry at all.“What’s up, Cenk?” I ask through the waterfall that has become my face. Cenk is standing just far enough away to keep me on the perimeter of the umbrella cover. He stays high and dry, but I never minded a little rain.“Do you recognize this guy?” He asks stiffly, jerking his shoulders toward the body on the ground at my feet.“I can’t see his face,” I state plainly, staring my alive companion down with what I hope is a terribly irritated expression.“Right,” Cenk says as if the world suddenly makes absolute sense. He turns and with one hand cupping his mouth he yells over to the uniform, “hey, come help me with this body!”“Shouldn’t you wait for the Medical Examiner?” I ask with boredom. “Nah, it’s fine. This is important and all the evidence is washed away anyway.”“Right,” I answer, but it’s a mutter and Cenk is already handing me the umbrella so he can manhandle a dead man.“Hold the damn thing over me! This suit was a gift!”“Jesus,” I mutter, holding my arm out farther so the umbrella shades the detective from wetting his suit.With a huff and a grunt, the two cops flip the body onto his back. Cenk straightens, smoothing out his jacket before reclaiming the umbrella.“So?” He asks, his eyes impatient.“Cenk, half of his fucking face is gone.”The detective sighs. “Just look, would you. He still has his eyes—that’s what counts.”I blink the water from my eyes and hold Cenk’s gaze for a long moment. Then, with jaw-clenched, I kneel next to the body and tilt my head so that I can look into his glazed eyes.After a long moment—I’m honestly just trying to annoy my old co-worker more than I am studying this man’s face—I lift myself back to standing and address the detective again.“No idea who he is. Why? What does this mean?”“He had your card,” Cenk says simply, pulling a small, crumpled paper from his pocket. “Found it in his wallet, your old number’s on the back—your home one.” I haven’t had a landline in years, and the only time I carried a business card was that last year I was a cop—a detective myself, special victims, rapes and worse.“I don’t understand,” I say though I do. “It’s gotta be a coincidence. Someone gave it to him; I don’t know. I’ve never seen him.” “You sure?” Cenk asks again, this time producing the dead man’s license.“You couldn’t seriously just show me this?” I ask, brandishing the ID.Cenk shrugs. “Might look different.”I sigh and study the face on the card. Scraggly for sure, a fairly long beard and wavy hair all in a mess, but clean enough. He looks healthy in the picture, well-fed. On the ground, he is a shadow of this man, skin and bones, pock-marked skin.“No, Cenk, sorry,” I say, feeling more defeated than maybe I should. I had back the license and tuck away my hands in the pockets of my trench.“It’s an old address. I think he’s been out here for a while, living like a John Doe, no home, no name, no worries.”I shoot the detective an indignant look.“‘Cept maybe where to get his next fix.”“There are hundreds of homeless in this city, Cenk. It’s a systemic thing,” I add in a chiding tone.“Don’t lecture me about issues in the system,” he bites back.“Whatever,” I mumble in reply. “Is there something you think I can do for you?”“Tell me why this guy has your card.”“Cenk, if I knew, don’t you think I would have shared that information half-an-hour ago? Does this look like something I would do for fun—stand over a dead body in the pouring rain?”Cenk looks away, “I’m running down who has that number now, if anyone. See if this guy has been calling looking for you.”“Yeah, well, when you find something pertinent to my involvement, just give me a call.” I turn to walk away.“I don’t have your number.”“Wait—what?” I turn back to the detective. “You called me out here.”“At the hospital. I looked you up in the hospital directory. I thought I remembered you’d said you were working at Memorial last time we spoke.”“How can you not have my number? I called you on it when I got it; you’re—depressingly—the first person I called when I got to town.” He looks stunned, but it passes in a moment.“I got a new phone—the contacts got all fucked-up—look it doesn’t matter, just give me your new number, okay?”I shift my weight and study the man before me for another minute more.“No,” I say, simply, and turn to walk away.“What the fuck, Olesya?”“You found me once,” I call over my shoulder. “If something comes of this, which it won’t, you can find me again.” 
With that, I hurry back to my car and blast the living shit out of the heater on the drive home.

So This is the New Year

I'm supposed to be doing this more. To be fair, technically this is more because, before my last post, I hadn't posted in almost two years. So, this is progress. It doesn't feel like progress, but it actually is.So, I spoke with my mentor today. We are getting the book done tonight for Kindle, so it should be available very soon--tomorrow is the goal--for download. I am going to make it for $5.99. Eventually, there WILL be hardback copies available--they are already formatted and ready to sell, but until I can buy a bulk batch, I won't be able to reduce the price to a reasonable level for all you lovely people that want one. So, look for that announcement in a few months.In the meantime, I am going to start writing more. I want to get at least one short story up a month. And, of course, starting today, my part of The Skeleton Friend is done--other than actually uploading it on Kindle, which takes very little effort or time. This means I will start on Book Two officially. My goal is to have The Skeleton Girls published by the end of this year. So, keep a look out for announcements about that as well.I am also going to put together a mailing list. You will get snippets from the new book, first access to short stories I publish, and all the little details and announcements concerning my burgeoning career and booklist. If you are interested in being a part of this, please email me or message me. I will begin setting it up shortly. Another thing you can keep an eye out for.Other than that, there isn't a lot going on. I am genuinely exhausted. I got about three hours of sleep. I tried to get four-and-a-half, but after three-thirty this morning, I was wide-awake. Thanks, body.I stayed up late getting the hardback formatted and finished. Again, I am sorry we can't get it out sooner. I am going to need a chunk of change to do that, so the biggest thing is going to be marketing this book the best I can to get it into the "well-selling" category. I am certainly not expecting the book to blow up overnight. I know it is going to take time, patience, tenacity, and a lot of networking, but I hope that by the end of this year I can consider myself a full-time writer, no-time scrub tech.Zoscha would love having me home every day.In three weeks, she and I will be on the road down the California coast to Phoenix for our Left Coast Crime Convention debut. I am more excited about this trip than I probably should be--I don't know if it is because of the convention, or because I really like road trips and I've never seen the California coast. I'm really excited to get going.So, I am going to go try to work on something substantial--because, despite the fact that I only slept for three hours last night, I won't be sleeping until probably nine tonight. Have coffee, will write.