R.L. Geer-Robbins's Blog, page 5

Insanity is my armor…

6 minutes

Friends,

Identity.

It’s the cumulation of years walking (or crawling) this earth to a singular point in time.

It is the sum of everything you have been sprinkled with a coating of who you want to be.

But what happens when there are parts of you that are not allowed to be added to the equation? Does that make your identity lesser? Incomplete?

Are you not who you portray yourself to be?

It’s a ride.

Let me back this hypothetical question up and explain why my mind is circling.

In the world of writers, artists, and intellectuals- insanity is a common infliction. Which, in my case, as a bonafide, medically documented, and currently medicated member of the community- it makes me feel a part of the cool kid club.

With a lifetime membership!

Insanity, or ‘mental health issues’ for the politically correct, comes with a set of problems that can cause some minor issues in everyday life.

For example, my brain doesn’t always fire on the right cylinders. Sometimes, it acts more like an old Harley engine that is backfiring while driving down the highway at 130 mph.

We might be getting to our final destination- but it’s not going to be a smooth ride, and we are going to scare the crap out of everyone else on the road.

Thoughts vs. Reality

When my brain has decided that it’s going to go down the Alice in Wonderland tunnel of misguided adventures, it’s one hell of a ride.

It usually starts when I am in a good spot in my writing. When the world I am creating on paper has become so intertwined with my imagination that I can’t see the reality of life within the realm of make-believe.

I know this about myself.

But I can’t cut the thrones from the rose, if you know what I mean. If someone were to tell me that my world didn’t exist or the voices were not real- I wouldn’t be able to function.

Explosions of words

There is so much about my life that I am not allowed to talk about. Parts of me that are hush-hush. ‘Don’t say this; don’t do that’ has been said to me so many times that I find myself unable to know my left and right limits.

And take it from a crazy person—if we can’t get the thoughts out, they bubble like an underwater volcano waiting for some kind of release.

That’s why my writing is so important. I can take the parts of me that are not socially acceptable and twist them into stories where insanity is welcomed.

Functional vs. improbable

Insanity. To me, it’s such a beautiful word. I am not talking about the scary kind of insanity that leads to Netflix documentaries and studies on the criminal mind.

I’m talking about my insanity. The type that is encouraged not to be talked about unless it’s in the compounds of a white padded room and chocolate pudding is served with lunch.

The kind where I talk to people in my head.

I like to call my insanity fully functional. I go grocery shopping, work a 40-hour job, engage with my family, and even remember to get the laundry done once in a while.

But when the claws of shadows dig into my life, it becomes harder to concentrate and to conceal my shadowy friends.

Hiding my truth

How did I use to hide these moments? Easy—I talked about other things. I focused on reality vs. the mythical: politics, religion, government, my day job, my time in the military, research, and family drama.

Anything and everything that would trick my mind to focus on the ‘now.’

It’s a maneuver I learned in the military. The problem is that sometimes, it takes a moment for the left side of the brain to figure out what the right side is doing. Thoughts get jumbled, and I am confused. Words don’t always come out right- the washing machine becomes the refrigerator. A mower becomes a push broom.

And I am sure in hell not quick enough to understand jokes.

It is a defense mechanism. I think my shrink would have been proud if I ever had the nerve to tell her. But, recently, my defense mechanism has become socially unacceptable.

Don’t talk about that…

I know the strong suggestions of what not to say are explained in good faith. I know I am being ‘looked out for.’

But what it does is lock me in a dark closet with no escape. I can’t function in reality if I am not allowed to talk about reality. Why bother paying attention to ‘today’ if today is forgettable? Why concentrate on the people around me if I have boundaries on what I am and am not allowed to be?

It’s like sitting on the outskirts of a party and not being a part of the group. I can hear what is being said. I know the jest of the conversations.

But I can’t function because it’s silent. I can’t interact because I don’t know how to contribute.

I don’t understand how to be part of the group because my brain doesn’t fire the way theirs does.

A chink forms in my imaginary armor.

Final thoughts

Insanity works on a different level for me, as it does for all people who ‘suffer’ from a form of what I do. In my case, the only way my shadows disappear and reality becomes center stage is if I am challenged mentally to be present in reality.

I think that everyone who falls into the category of some form of insanity has a trick up their sleeve. This just happens to be mine.

Why am I telling the whole world? I’m glad you asked. For too long, it’s been socially unacceptable for people like me, who function on a different playing field, to be open and honest about their daily lives.

The idea of a padded room has been hanging over my head for too long. Talking about it, working out for myself if this is a byproduct of my genetics or a condition that developed from my time in the military allows me to find the reality in my shadows.

Since I can’t talk about it in polite company without someone wanting to call the mental hospital- I decided to write about it. Maybe there is a person out there who has shadows and needs to know they are not alone.

Final, Final thoughts

Hi! My name is Rose. I am an author, historian, and mother. And I have imaginary friends.

I’m here if you need to talk.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Insanity is my armor… appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

History meets Fantasy

6 minutes

Friends,

Every author knows they should never have two work-in-progresses.

Every author also has at least two work-in-progresses.

Maybe even more

In my case- it’s only two, but I have a third swimming in the back of my mind. Let’s not talk about it, though, because if I do- I will have to write it. If I write it, I will have to divide my already very busy schedule into forths, and I think my hubby will be upset if I allot his scheduled time to another book.

History meets fantasy

I have decided that I am internally trying to punish myself for some misdeed that I committed between my 20s and 30s. Because who in their right mind knowingly writes historical fantasy?

Who says to themselves- let’s smash together a world that doesn’t exist with a world that did?

And make it make sense…

I have always entertained the notion that history is nothing but fantasy. Let me explain. As a historian, as I divide into the depths of our past, I find that history often reads like a Camelot story.

Good guy. Bad guy. Questionable intentions. Bloodshed. Someone gets married.

Tada- the fixing for a best-selling fantasy book.

It’s all about details.

A small issue when your mind is always on the go. Details are inherently important when it comes to history. It is our bread and butter. The peanut butter to our jelly. The creamer to our coffee.

It is what makes a good historian.

Every once in a while, in the chaos of life, emerges a historian like me—a historian who is drawn to the stories of lives rather than dates. We don’t really vibe with the constraints of ‘who,’ ‘what,’ and ‘where’ and are intrigued by the ‘how’ and ‘why.’

This is a fundamental problem if you want to be seen as a key player in the teeny tiny world of professional historians.

How teeny tiny?

Answer me this question: When was the last time you called your friend and said, ‘I made an appointment to see my historian? ‘

Or ‘Guess who I met today? A historian!’

This excitement is usually reserved for doctors, lawyers, first responders, actors, politicians, or your favorite coffee creator at Woods Coffee or Starbucks.

Have you ever met a historian?

Probably not. Most people are logical. They will compare the cost of the historian’s education vs. the yearly salary and make a logical assessment.

The math isn’t mathing with the career field.

Caution to the wind.

But there are a few of us who threw caution into the wind and said, ‘Hold my beer.’ If they were smart- within the illogical career field, they made a logical decision.

They chose a path that could lead to a payout. They became experts in a single field of history and dedicated their time, tears, and papercuts to a certain timeframe.

Civil War, World Wars, European royalty, Trade routes, Conspiracy Theories, Presidents, or figuring out who shot JFK.

These are the professionals that you see on the History Channel or Netflix documentaries.

I’m not one of them.

No game plan.

I still remember my favorite professor during my graduate program. She had the bad luck of becoming my advisor halfway through my first year of the Master’s program. Poor girl. I’m sure she was originally excited because I was one of her first.

Her excitement soon became frustration. And I do believe she transferred schools after I graduated. Don’t hold me to that- but I’m 92% sure.

I still have one of her emails, which I have saved for the last 10 years. It is entitled ‘Just stop.’

It was a lengthy email. Highlighting the different papers I had submitted in preparation for my capstone project.

What is a capstone project? It is a cumulation of all your research, thoughts, hypotheses, and theories neatly tied together to present to the board an argument on some important historical moment.

Simple enough.

Sounds simple enough. Pick one topic and stick to it for two years.

What could go wrong?

I can tell you what went wrong. I started with the ‘The History of Holidays.’ Oh boy, was I excited about that! My bookshelves are still filled with reference materials on the evolution of holidays since the 1500s. My favorite was the history of Halloween, followed closely by Thanksgiving. An in-depth look at the political, cultural, and religious importance of the two holidays revolving around food.

But……..

That sent me down a rabbit hole of research. Of course, because I was looking into the political aspect of holidays, I had to research the political movements of the time. And because I threw in a touch of religion, that meant I had to study the transformation of mythology to organized faith.

My focus then changed to political parties in the early 1800s. That led me to the fantastic story of Boss Tweed and Thomas Nash, which set my son on the path of his interest in political artists. Boss Tweed turned into an interest in Presidential assassination attempts, which turned into the fascination of the gossip about the personal lives of presidents and their lovers.

Rabbit holes are dangerous.

You can see why my advisor was a bit frustrated with me. And why having three works in progress is dangerous territory.

And how combining history with fantasy can hinder my writing. I easily fall into the rabbit holes of stories.

I know this about myself. It may be my biggest fault—at least, second to the fact that I love my work people but hate going. Or that I am a fan of debating politics and religion—which my hubby has informed me on many occasions is a no-no.

Too many calendars.

I am surrounded by a mountain of post-it notes, pink for ‘The Hunter and The Hunted’ and blue for ‘The First Wanderer.’ Yellow means historical details of Eastern European mythology, and green is conspiracies surrounding the Vatican.

I also have orange post-it notes for things that need to be put into my calendar, such as promotions or obligations that I have committed to. For example, on Saturday, Kekoa and I are heading to an event at the Northern State Hospital to hear their historian talk about the patients who lived on its working farm before it closed in the 70s.

I am also determined to attend a birthday party for a dear new friend who has welcomed my hubby and me into their family with open arms.

BUT… I am also signed up for a virtual writers’ conference on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Not to mention- I still have 35 books that need their edges gilded before 17 Aug.

Final thoughts

I am beginning to see what my advisor was yelling at me about. Maybe my mind is a little scattered.

Should I get another calendar to help?

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post History meets Fantasy appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Coffee, Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Competition

7 minutes

Friends,

The scent of books, coffee, and candles makes me happy.

It takes me to the days when, once a week, my youngest and I would head to the local Columbus, GA, Barnes & Noble and spend an hour hanging out. Kekoa would play with the trains in the children’s section, and I would sit on a chair way too small and read my next new book.

For 52 weeks- I had a new favorite author every Sunday.

Those were happy times.

There were no bookstores in New York nearby, so for a long time, I gave up reading and focused more on the hobby farm and hauling water to my 1920s farmhouse, which had more problems than a car with only three tires.

When we arrived in the frozen lands of Alaska, I was happy to find that the little town of Fairbanks, Alaska, had been upgraded to include a Barnes & Noble and an Arby’s. We were living the high life.

I always found it ironic that I thought Fairbanks, Alaska, was an upgrade to northern New York- but it is what it is.

42 minutes is nearby

Maybe it’s because I have always lived on the outskirts of city life that distance has become a different measurement to me.

Alaska has only three main highways, and the closest city was never less than an hour’s drive. To get to Anchorage, we had to preplan, rent a hotel room, and ensure we had extra fuel cans in the truck ‘just in case.’

Distance wasn’t measured by miles or gas stations—it was measured by Podcasts, audiobooks, and Pandora songs.

Anchorage and back meant one and a half audiobooks or an entire season of podcasts.

So when we moved to the small farm town of Mount Vernon, Washington- finding out that the closest Barnes & Noble was almost an hour away didn’t bother me.

It was only ten songs on Pandora. Damn near next door.

It was me- not them.

If you have been following me for a moment in my writing career, you would know I have complicated relationships with bookstores, libraries, and small businesses.

Granted- most of the complications were based solely on my preconceived notion that I was hot shit- and not the managers. I couldn’t understand why they weren’t jumping up and down in excitement that I was an author with a published book.

Why weren’t they banging down my door and blowing up my phone with requests to stock my labors of love?

Didn’t they know it was amazing?

Looking back now, I didn’t come in with the right mentality. I was a taker more than a giver. I wanted instant success without the blood, sweat, and tears that all successful people experience.

Putting failures into practice.

No, this is not another post where I review all my failures again. I would rather talk about my successes since humbleness was shoved down my throat with a bucket loader.

Since I learned that no one wants to listen to a no-name author and why they should be considered fantastic solely based on their background, I have found my footing in the author world.

My failures became a jumping board for success.

And when I say success, I mean I have found a tribe. A group of fellow authors, editors, artists, and narrators who are all slowly hiking up the same mountain of doom alongside me.

A group of men and women who all have stories to tell as unique as the color of our eyes.

Like the book I was asked to take a ‘peek at,’ it is a cross between Outlander and 50 Shades of Grey, written by a man who is 6’2″ and looks ready to storm a shoreline lined with machine guns all pointed at him.

Or the elevator pitch I just heard of a story about ghost brides and fated love that rivals most dark romance books published by traditional publishing companies.

I met a free-spirited author who had become so successful that she had to hire a PA so that she could find the time to write—a woman who built success by knowing how to brand herself and her book.

My new favorite couple is a husband and wife who have tagged team various roles of being an author and have created a sustainable career of creating a whole world behind their fairy-tale retellings.

I have been schooled in the amount of education it takes to be a good editor and what it is like for them to try to become a contender in the fight to find the next ‘best-seller.’ Their path is more challenging than the authors- that’s for sure.

And all because of B&N

Now, I will take some credit for my newfound adventures. I don’t sleep- so it gives me plenty of time to fill my calendar with too many projects and interests. Some succeed. Most fail.

But I will have to give a shout-out to my local Barnes & Noble because they opened the door for this recent success.

You can say I have formed an unlikely partnership with my local B&N.

Actually, I don’t know if it is unlikely. Barnes & Noble has always held a place in my heart. It’s where I can escape when the world is too much and find a decent cup of coffee, a chocolate chip cookie, and a good book.

So, if I were going to throw all my poker chips into the game, the logical choice would have to be B&N. It helps that the staff and managers are amazing, accommodating, and great people overall.

Writing Group

I like the writing group B&N, and I have started to create. Granted, it’s only in its infancy, and we still have work to do.

This writing group is unique because it’s not just a bunch of writers discussing writing. It’s a gathering of men and women who have already created the book and need a tribe to figure out the next steps. We need to talk out the pitfalls of indie author life and road map the crossroads of decisions. A conference of minds who have the freedom to bitch, moan, and share their wins within the safety net of friends.

What we needed more than anything was a place to meet.

Don’t get me wrong—social media is excellent. It’s how we all came together in the first place. But there is something to be said about having a place to go to sit and talk in person.

Friends and competition

I have always been unapologetic about my end state- I want to be in bookstores as a contender for readers’ time. I want a publishing company to look at my brand and say, ‘ We want her to be on our team.’

Quitting my day job to focus on my art would be the cherry on the sundae.

However, I have to give before I take. I must build my network to create my net worth.

I would have to make friends.

My mother is proud of me. I have never been good at the ‘friends’ thing. It seemed complicated and riddled with expectations.

Someone told me I would have to use my phone for more than Netflix and games.

Seemed like a lot of work.

There is something about walking into a bookstore, looking around, and saying, ‘This is my competition.’ And if you know me, you know I love competition. It fuels my soul. If I can see the field goal line and know what direction I am going in, I won’t slow down.

Final thoughts

Barnes & Noble was a place I used to go to escape reality. Now, I go there to face my insecurities and become a better writer. I go there to meet my friends, laugh, and support my fellow authors.

I learn something new every time I walk through the door, even if it’s something I don’t want to hear.

Like how someone else’s book is TikTok famous and mine isn’t.

Even though B&N is 10 Pandora songs away- I happily drive it weekly. It just helps that they have coffee and chocolate chip cookies when I arrive.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Coffee, Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Competition appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Coffee, Chocolate chip cookies, and competition

7 minutes

Friends,

The scent of books, coffee, and candles makes me happy.

It takes me to the days when, once a week, my youngest and I would head to the local Columbus, GA, Barnes & Noble and spend an hour hanging out. Kekoa would play with the trains in the children’s section, and I would sit on a chair way too small and read my next new book.

For 52 weeks- I had a new favorite author every Sunday.

Those were happy times.

There were no bookstores in New York nearby, so for a long time, I gave up reading and focused more on the hobby farm and hauling water to my 1920s farmhouse, which had more problems than a car with only three tires.

When we arrived in the frozen lands of Alaska, I was happy to find that the little town of Fairbanks, Alaska, had been upgraded to include a Barnes & Noble and an Arby’s. We were living the high life.

I always found it ironic that I thought Fairbanks, Alaska, was an upgrade to northern New York- but it is what it is.

42 minutes is nearby

Maybe it’s because I have always lived on the outskirts of city life that distance has become a different measurement to me.

In Alaska, there were only three main highways, and the closest city was never less than an hour’s drive. To get to Anchorage, we had to preplan, rent a hotel room, and make sure we had extra fuel cans in the truck ‘just in case.’

Distance wasn’t measured by miles or gas stations—it was measured by Podcasts, audiobooks, and Pandora songs.

Anchorage and back meant one and a half audiobooks or a full season of podcasts.

So when we moved to the small farm town of Mount Vernon, Washington- finding out that the closest Barnes & Noble was almost an hour away didn’t bother me.

It was only 10 songs on Pandora. Damn near next door.

It was me- not them.

If you have been following me for a moment in my writing career, you would know that I have had a complicated relationship with bookstores, libraries, and small businesses.

Granted- most of the complications were based solely on my preconceived notion that I was hot shit- and not the managers. I couldn’t understand why they weren’t jumping up and down in excitement that I was an author with a published book.

Why weren’t they banging down my door and blowing up my phone with requests to stock my labors of love?

Didn’t they know it was amazing?

Looking back now, I didn’t come in with the right mentality. I was a taker more than a giver. I wanted instant success without the blood, sweat, and tears that all successful people experience.

Putting failures into practice.

No, this is not another post where I go over all my failures again. I rather talk about the successes I have had since humbleness was shoved down my throat with a bucketloader.

Since I learned that no one wants to listen to a no-name author on why they should be considered fantastic solely based on their background- I have found my footing in the author world.

My failures became a jumping board for success.

And when I say success, I mean I have found a tribe. A group of fellow authors, editors, artists, and narrators who are all slowly hiking up the same mountain of doom alongside me.

A group of men and women who all have stories to tell as unique as the color of our eyes.

Like the book I was asked to take a ‘peek at’ that is a cross between Outlander and 50 Shades of Grey, written by a man who is 6”2 and looks ready to storm a shoreline lined with machine guns all pointed at him.

Or the elevator pitch I just heard of a story about ghost brides and fated love that rivals most dark romance books published by traditional publishing companies.

Meeting a free-spirited author who has become so successful that she had to hire a PA so that she could find the time to write. A woman who built success by knowing how to brand herself and her book.

My new favorite couple is a husband and wife who have tagged team various roles of being an author and have created a sustainable career of creating a whole world behind their fairy-tale retellings.

I have been schooled in the amount of education it takes to be a good editor and what it is like for them to try to become a contender in the fight to find the next ‘best-seller.’ Their path is harder than the authors- that’s for sure.

And all because of B&N

Now, I will take some credit for my newfound adventures. I don’t sleep- so it gives me plenty of time to fill my calendar with way too many projects and interests. Some succeed. Most fail.

But I will have to give a shout-out to my local Barnes & Noble because they opened the door for this this recent success.

You can say I have formed an unlikely partnership with my local B&N.

Actually, I don’t know if it is unlikely. Barnes & Noble has always held a place in my heart. It’s where I can escape when the world is too much and find a decent cup of coffee, a chocolate chip cookie, and a good book.

So, if I were going to throw all my poker chips into the game- the logical choice would have to be B&N. It helps that the staff and managers are amazing, accommodating, and all-around great people.

Writing Group

I like the writing group B&N and I have started to create. Granted, it’s only in its infancy, and we still have work to do.

This writing group is unique in that it’s not just a bunch of writers talking about writing. It’s a gathering of men and women who have already created the book and need a tribe to figure out the next steps. We need to talk out the pitfalls of indie author life and road map the crossroads of decisions. A conference of minds who have the freedom to bitch, moan, and share their wins within the safety net of friends.

What we needed more than anything was a place to meet.

Don’t get me wrong—social media is great. It’s how we all came together in the first place. But there is something to be said about having a place to go to sit and talk in person.

Friends and competition

I have always been unapologetic about my end state- I want to be in bookstores as a contender for readers’ time. I want a publishing company to look at my brand and say, ‘ We want her to be on our team.’

Quitting my day job to focus on my art would be the cherry on the sundae.

However, I have to give before I take. I must build my network in order to build my net worth.

I would have to make friends.

My mother is proud of me. I have never been good at the ‘friends’ thing. It seemed complicated and riddled with expectations.

Someone told me I would have to use my phone for more than Netflix and games.

Seemed like a lot of work.

There is something about walking into a bookstore, looking around, and saying, ‘This is my competition.’ And if you know me, you know I love competition. It fuels my soul. If I can see the field goal line and know what direction I am going in, I won’t slow down.

Final thoughts

Barnes & Noble was a place I used to go to escape reality. Now, I go there to face my insecurities and become a better writer. I go there to meet my friends, laugh, and support my fellow authors.

I learn something new every time I walk through the door, even if it’s something I don’t want to hear.

Like how someone else’s book is TikTok famous and mine isn’t.

Even though B&N is 10 Pandora songs away- I happily drive it weekly. It just helps that they have coffee and chocolate chip cookies when I arrive.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Coffee, Chocolate chip cookies, and competition appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Assassination attempts and moral compasses

6 minutes

Friends,

It’s been a few days since we all learned about the attempted assassination of presidential candidate Trump, the murder of a fellow American and first responder, and the critical injuries of two others.

I let the dust settle for a few days before I decided to weigh in on the situation.

This is mostly because heated emotions tend to lead to passionate arguments and words that can never be retracted. And I wanted to make sure my words held meaning and not finger-pointing.

Someone said what?

It was at the last stop of Saturday’s Poker Run that an acquaintance walked up and told my husband and me the news.

‘Did you hear? Someone shot Trump?’

I was standing with a group of veterans who, for the most part, have all seen firsthand the devastating picture of a person who was shot and killed. We have smelt the metallic tang of blood. We know that bullets very rarely enter and exit cleanly. We have walked through the mess.

We have seen death and danced in its shadows.

And yet, from somewhere in the crowd, I heard words that chilled me more than finding out there was an assassination attempt.

‘Good.’

‘Too bad they missed.’

‘I hate the guy.’

Initial thoughts.

Hold on- this is about to get dark.

My family and I argue a lot about whether there is such a thing as a justifiable death.

It is something that weighs heavy on my heart after my multiple deployments. I am not going to argue that the death penalty is wrong. Hell, I agree with it in most cases. Crimes of horrendous behavior deserve to be punished. As the bible says- a life for a life.

You can’t change my mind on that.

But last time I checked- presidential candidate Trump hasn’t killed anyone. Neither did the other 3 victims.

No one deserved to be shot at. Or die.

Hard truth.

I hear a lot that my actions or awareness of actions, while deployed, are justified because we were fighting a war. That my actions or inactions are forgivable because they were done under the banner of the Red, White, and Blue.

I am forgiven strictly because I am an American.

I am given a lot of wiggle room because I was a soldier.

They were the bad guys. I am not.

Were they all bad guys? No, they weren’t. Some of them were innocent bystanders—mothers, fathers, and children. That’s the hard, cold truth. As painful as it is hard to hear, it’s a fact that is easily forgotten.

True- there were a bunch that were fighting because another country invaded their personal space and destroyed their homes.

There were bad guys. Horrible people who should not walk this earth.

But then there were those who were not.

And they died, too.

Here’s my struggle.

According to people I know, Trump’s assassination attempt was justifiable because he is a ‘bad person.’ He said things that people don’t like. He’s made questionable business decisions. He is not nice to women. He’s too loud. To orange.

No one likes his shoes.

Because of this- according to some Americans- that means he should have died on Saturday.

But I’m forgiven?

Help me make sense of this.

A dark day.

My heart hurts for the families affected by the tragedy. I feel for those other Americans who no longer feel safe in public spaces because random pew-pews can come flying out of nowhere.

But we are not going to have that conversation, are we?

Nope. Innocent bystanders always get the raw end of the deal. They are forgotten in the cries of political outrage.

What I will say is that this has made me question a lot. Should it? Maybe. Maybe not. But regardless it has brought back memories for me.

The wiz of flying bullets. The sound of ammunition hitting soft tissue and the popping sound it makes when it leaves the body. The smell of gunpowder. The searing heat of a barrel when it glows red. The groans of pain, followed by cries for family.

That is what people are celebrating right now.

Final thoughts.

Trump is unforgivable? He should die?

But I get to boast that I got a Bronze Star for my actions in war? And not just a Bronze Star. A fucking wall of awards. My uniform was a fruit salad of color because of all the ribbons.

I was part of the reason why people died. I stood right smack in the middle of two different countries and told their citizens they were the bad guys, and I was morally right.

I had a whole fucking country standing behind me. And as long as they didn’t have to hear the details- I would be celebrated.

But Trump should die?

I have struggled hard with my time in the military. As I get older and closer to floating across the River Styx, it has become that I think about a lot.

Trump should be punished for his ‘crimes against humanity,’ but I should get a ‘free pass.’

Criminals should be punished, but I have immunity.

Final, Final thoughts

This was a dark post. I get it. No one wants to hear this from veterans. But here’s the god-honest truth: Most of us struggle with these thoughts. They keep us up at night.

Are we forgivable while others are not?

Maybe my thoughts are spiraling. Technically, I wasn’t there, so I shouldn’t care. But events can trigger memories whether we want them to or not, and this event has stopped me in my tracks.

I pride myself on wanting to talk about the aftermath of combat veterans. I won’t go into details of my nightmare, but I think someone needs to say the words out loud (or, in my case, write them down) because they are real. Maybe if I open the door, others will feel safe talking about their experiences.

The math isn’t mathing on this one for me. I am questioning myself now because of how many Americans were celebrating or genuinely upset that the assassination attempt didn’t ‘pan out.’

To the families of those who were affected- you are in my prayers. I’m sorry that your loss and tragedy have become a political movement. I am sorry that people are not saying your names. I am truly heartbroken that you have become a pawn in an election. No one deserves that lack of respect.

To those who celebrated the attempt- find your humanity. Quickly. This isn’t about Trump. This is about your moral compass.

Ask yourself how far you are willing to go.

Because those people in Iraq and Afghanistan- those people who you call the ‘bad guys’ were willing to go as far as you are right now.

And we claimed that they were uncivilized.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Assassination attempts and moral compasses appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Poker Run with Randy Couture.

8 minutes

Friends,

The sound of over a hundred motorcycles starting their engines at once to line up for a Poker run is something that, as a writer, I can’t put into words.

Loud.

Earth rumbling.

Inspirational.

These are pitiful words that describe a mid-summer morning at the Everett Vet Clinic when hundreds of veterans, supporters, and local community members came together to ride in the Xtreme Couture G.I. Foundation’s 4th Annual Ride for Our Troops Poker Run.

Poker Runs.

Now, I had never done a Poker Run before yesterday, but I’ve heard about them. They are big in the biker world during the summer months—a day when a bunch of men and women get together and say, ‘Wanna ride bikes?’

We all meet somewhere, get our first playing card, and then ride together to the next location. Five stops, five poker cards, one winner.

What makes Poker Runs unique is that they support the local community and are tailored to the motorcycle community. A community that is often shunned by the general population because of the stigma that all bikers are bad.

Lean in closer. I’ll share a secret with you.

It’s a community where you generally find the veterans.

Who were we supporting?

The Xtreme Couture G.I. Foundation.

Never heard of it? Doesn’t surprise me. Unlike some of the other big-name nonprofits that I have worked with or for… this one is a backstage manager lurking in the shadows.

Where you find the veterans.

The head of the non-profit is Randy Couture. If you look him up on Google, it says that he is an ‘American Commentator and Actor.’ Oh, and a pretty bad-ass former professional MMA fighter.

That’s what I knew him as. He was one of my favorite MMA fighters, someone I used to watch religiously when I was active in that world. A long time ago, before he walked away from the UFC to pursue a different path.

What most people don’t realize and is not highlighted as much as it should be is that he is a veteran of the U.S. Army. A veteran who is using his popularity and money to help support the service members and their families who are facing tremendous odds as they fight to recover from their injuries.

As someone who spent years working with the injured during my time in the Army- I have seen with my own eyes the physical and mental struggles of recovery. Hell- I have spent years trying to fight my own shadows and the pain that comes with multiple deployments.

It’s nice to have someone who walked the walk and lived the life in our back pocket.

The Experience.

Like I said, I’ve never done a Poker Run before. But if I was going to jump in feet first, this was probably the best one to start with. A day to ride and support service members will always be high on my list of things to do on a Saturday. Even if it’s during a PNW heat wave.

It helped that my hubby was a road captain for group three. I knew he was experienced and had ridden the route three times before leading that many people on the open road. The hubby may be the vain of my existence most of the time with his grand ideas and questionable decisions- but when it comes to motorcycles and riders- he is focused and methodical.

It also helped that I knew the guy who planned the route and knew he went out of his way to make sure the road was cleaned, marked, and safe for everyone. A man with a heart as large as my eyes when I see coffee. Someone known to everyone in the community for his loud voice, big personality, and genuine love for all people- especially veterans. A man known as Two-Cents.

How did he get his name? That’s a story for another day. But let’s just say he is involved in many community activities and is vocal about supporting all of them.

I was safe before the ride even started.

It was hot.

Doing a Poker Run is not for the faint of heart, especially during a heat wave. You are riding at least 75 miles—and that doesn’t count the miles to the start point and back home.

I think the hubby and I were close to 150 miles yesterday by the time we limped home.

Might I also mention, in case you didn’t know, that motorcycles are designed so that the rider sits on top of the engine. Their legs are budded against the pipes and engine block. Seeing as they have yet to design air conditioning for bikes, it can get hot.

Very hot.

Especially in traffic.

So, if you ever wonder why we are going faster than the speed limit (safely, of course), please know that it’s probably because the sweat is dripping down to places it shouldn’t be, and we are trying to cool off.

A great run.

By the time we hit the finish line, I was sunburnt, exhausted, and happy.

I made it. Upright. I didn’t even drop the bike on a hill. Which is always a win for me. Those darn hills are hard to take off on from a stop.

I think I had the worst poker hand out of the group… but since I don’t know how to play poker, it didn’t bother me.

I don’t know how much money we raised, but it was in the thousands. That is thousands of dollars that will go back into the hands of service members and their families during difficult times. It will help pay a bill or make sure that a veteran can get the mental health help they need.

Elephant in the room.

The VA is not effective. I hate to say it. I know there are some great people who work for the VA, and I applaud them. But facts are facts, and as someone who has struggled to get the care that I need, I can tell the general population this with a straight face.

It’s not good.

The government started the VA to ensure that veterans were taken care of after they got out of the military. It’s federally funded and governed. It’s a safety net for us to fall back on, a place for us to get the medical and mental attention we need.

What happened is that we became a political hostage for D.C.

Politicians weren’t ready for the shadows that followed us home from the war. I guess they weren’t aware that when you send sons and daughters to battle- injuries happen. Maybe they missed the memo that bullets hurt, burn pits scar our lungs, and memories can be as dangerous as complex attacks.

The Xtreme Couture G.I. Foundation tries to bridge those gaps that the government has created.

Female riders.

I found a few female veterans riding. Surprising? It’s okay. I’m used to it. Within the 1% of the 1% is another 1%.

Female veterans.

I sometimes call us the ‘Lost Community’ or ‘The Unheard’. We are the daughters who signed the same blank check as the sons and still somehow get pushed into the background.

It is a misconception that we don’t experience war or the military the same way. That because we have boobs- we are locked away in some office in a ‘safe’ place in the middle of a battleground. Our shadows sometimes get lost in the competition of who is the biggest badass.

I will never stop talking about female veterans. I know it annoys people, but I’m okay with it. Someone needs to do it. I have found that, for the most part, female veterans don’t feel comfortable sharing.

That hurts my heart. Their stories deserve to be heard. Female veterans deserve to have a safe space and be accepted without having to reprove themselves. Because they earned the right. They bled, sweated, and did the time to hold the title.

It means just as much to us as it does to our brothers in arms.

Final thoughts.

I’m glad I went, even though my arms are so burned that it hurts to type. What a great day to stand with my community and say, ‘We are here.’

Every single mile was a reminder that there was still work to be done. That 22 a day is 22 too many.

And as Randy said- that number seems awfully light.

I appreciate that the Xtreme Couture G.I. Foundation stands in the shadows. It means it is in the darkness with us, holding a lamp, trying to help us find our way home. After spending years in the non-profit world, I can say honestly—it is rare. Most foundations are about their appearances. They are in it for the money and prestige.

Most CEOs make over $200,000 a year to run their non-profit. Ironically, ones that receive federal grants and donations. Yup, I’m calling you out. I can because I worked or was a part of a few…

Wounded Warrior CEO- over $400,000 a year

Fisher House CEO- over $400,000 a year

Red Cross CEO- over $600,000 a year

Xtreme Couture Foundation CEO- $0.00

So here is my plug: If you want to support veterans, check out The Xtreme Couture G.I. Foundation. Look at its mission. Read about how many families it has helped. Know that it is not judgmental.

They understand that not all injuries are visible.

Xtreme Couture G.I. Foundation | Helping Veterans in Need (xcgif.org)

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Poker Run with Randy Couture. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Political heartburn is eroding America.

7 minutes

Friends,

I am throwing my usual stance on politics out the window and making a stand.

More like a statement than a stand, but still something out of my norm.

What in the world?

I pride myself on being open-minded when it comes to politics. I personally believe that regardless of what country you are looking at, it’s all fundamentally broken. Everyone has a right to their opinion, and as long as they do their research, I listen to people’s concerns, gripes, and positions.

Now, the only country I can speak on is my own- the home of apple pie, fireworks, overcrowded cities, and influencers.

I have been paying attention to the upcoming elections and have watched from the sidelines as our country barrels down another election year. My social media has been bombarded with angry Americans who all have a political stance and are willing to throw daggers at anyone who disagrees with them.

I want to say that all election years have been petty, nasty, and downright criminal, but historically speaking, I can honestly say this has been the worst.

I’m nervous

There has never been an election year when I walked into the ballot box 100% sure of who I would vote for. I hover around 70%. But let’s face it—no one agrees 100% of the time, so it’s honestly not a bad percentage.

Currently, I’m not even at 20%.

This is the first year I have ever considered not voting. I have no warm and fuzzy that either candidate actually gives a shit about the economy, the citizens, or our current economic position.

I think they are running out of spite.

It’s not about us. It’s about one of them getting to say at the end of the day, ‘Told you so.’

Abusing their position.

This is a huge statement, and I don’t make it lightly.

On one hand, we have a current president who apparently can talk to the dead, doesn’t know the names of world leaders, and has a bedtime of 8 pm because he needs to ‘pace himself.’

Then, on the other, we have a man with questionable business practices, a history of treating women like playtoys, and spiteful to those who disagree with him.

One candidate claimed that he was running in 2020 to make way for the ‘younger generation,’ and the other thinks the ‘younger generation’ can’t think for themselves.

When I say younger generation, I’m talking about the 40-50-year-olds. They are talking about me! I’m the younger generation, which is ironic because I am feeling really old these days.

According to these two politicians, I am not smart enough to know what I want. I need them to guide me like a two-year-old at a crowded movie theater.

Rude.

Words have meaning.

Granted, I chuckled when I heard the White House staff and news all say that President Biden was going to give a ‘big boy’ interview- but I didn’t realize how bad it was going to go.

This interview was in response to his poor showing at the debates… and no offense- as a world leader, using the excuse ‘I had a cold’ isn’t giving the American people a warm and fuzzy when you can’t make a coherent argument.

Umbrella statements don’t help either, former President Trump… just saying.

I sat at my computer and tuned into last night’s disastrous interview, and a pit grew in my stomach.

This country is in real trouble.

Elephant in the room

Fundamentally, there were two things that President Biden’s interview had to achieve.

You knew the names of your staff, Vice President, and world leaders.Explain how, at over 80 years old, you are the ONLY person in this country who can lead us.

It was a failure on both parts.

I am not hating on anyone who is over the age of 80. I promise I’m not. But let’s face it- Rebulicians, Democrats, Independents, and Conservatives are all questioning the current President’s ability to lead this country into a better tomorrow.

The AMERICAN PEOPLE are asking for you to step down.

There are thousands of emails being sent. Opinion pieces in all the high profile newspapers. It’s the talk of the town on all news channels. Social media is blowing up with emotionally charged videos and posts.

All with the same stance….. thank you for your service- here’s a plaque.

Wisdom vs. selfishness.

There is a point in every person’s career when they become a liability rather than a key player. A point where they have served this country for so long that they are no longer able to see the bigger picture because they are tired, stressed, and can’t keep up.

It’s not an insult. It’s reality.

That’s why we have a fucking retirement age.

I would like to point out that, historically, when leaders refuse to step down and make way for a more qualified candidate- empires usually fall.

When leaders become so concerned with the perception of their ability rather than facing the consequences of their actions- empires crumble.

When leaders are unable to remember names, dates, key points, or the steps to Air Force One- empires become memes.

The concern is two ways.

I have been asked on numerous occasions if I will be voting for former President Trump, and I can honestly say I’m not sure.

Do I think he is the best representation of the Republican party? Do I think that he is willing to set aside his personal feelings and keep everything professional?

Not really.

I think he’s a loose canon whose feelings get hurt if someone doesn’t think he is the greatest thing to ever happen to this country.

Hate to break it to him- no president has been. Even George Washington had his faults, but at least he admitted them. When Washington didn’t know what to do, he asked his advisors. Sometimes, they agreed. Sometimes, they didn’t. But the good of the people came before personal vandatives.

He sure in hell knew the name of his Vice President.

Final thoughts…

I’m not sure what I’m going to do this year. I am ashamed that out of the millions of people in this country, these are our two options.

I am horrified that this country has become a meme. The butt of all jokes. Even France has a leg up on us, and they have farmers dumping shit in the middle of Paris in protest of their government’s actions.

Yet here we stand- political leaders unwilling to make the hard call. They sure in hell are willing and giddy when they tell us that our taxes are going up or that we need to send more money and weapons to another country.

But they are not willing to tell an 80+ plus-year-old man that it’s time to retire.

My concern is not so much with President Biden… it’s with his family and his party. Are they really that power-hungry or weak-minded?

Out of everyone wearing blue, not one person is qualified to run as president? What have you been doing for the last four years if you were not creating the next generation of leaders? A waste of time if you ask me.

I can’t say much to the Republicans—they actually had a contest of wills. They did bring people forth, have them stand behind a TV monitor, and explain to the American people why they should be selected.

Somehow- the man who never showed up to one debate won the votes.

It’s a sad day in America. To my friends across the waters… we need your prayers. Things are not looking so good for us right now.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Political heartburn is eroding America. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Veterinarians and Vets

7 minutes

Friends,

Sometimes, there are perfect summer Saturdays.

Saturdays when you can combine your love of the open road and support your local community. Now, some of you might be thinking that I could have been doing this all along. Slow your roll. I’m still new to doing public things in public.

No need to be rude.

But this particular Saturday, I was surfing the low tide of wondering if all my stress, time, and tears were worth everything that I had been putting into promoting, writing, and researching.

A Saturday when giving up seemed like a viable option.

Where are we going?

It was by chance that my husband and I were invited to the grand re-opening of a Veterinarian Clinic in Duvall, WA.

Where is Duvall, WA? Great question. Until recently, I didn’t even know it existed.

The best way to explain it is to head south to Everett and turn left. When you hit Monore, make a right. Go through the brand new traffic circle with slick asphalt and tada… you are there.

Small town with lots of character.

Why were we invited to a grand re-opening of a Veterinarian Clinic in a town we had never heard of?

Another great question.

Sweaty palms and a cocky smile

Months ago, the hubby and I got the text that all motorcycle enthusiasts get giddy over:

‘Wanna ride bikes?’

Of course, we wanted to! So we layered up and headed to a local bar to hang out with other people who had no concept of weather conditions or concerns about getting frostbite. Like-minded souls who think that 43 degrees going 50 mph on the open road is the perfect way to clear the cobwebs from the mind and feel alive.

Now, as a female, bike nights are the equivalent of walking into the coliseum and facing a pride of lions. You are going to get one of two reactions- sneers or growls.

No in-betweens until you puff your chest and stroll through the center like you own the place.

But after the pack circles you for a moment and doesn’t smell the fear pouring down your back- you are cautiously allowed to sit near the fire.

Slowly but surely

Now, to make a long story short so we can get back to what you all are still wondering about- why the hell were we at a Veterinarian Clinic without a medical puppy emergency… we made friends.

Yes, the hubby and I found a place where our sarcastic comments and my dumb jokes were welcomed.

That’s when we found a fellow vet who owns a vet clinic.

I chuckled a little when I heard. It’s a great promotional line. Then I learned it was his wife who was the Veterinarian, and he was the Vet.

A couple made in heaven if you ask me.

The power couple was reopening their veterinarian clinic, and they were holding a big event to celebrate. In Duvall, WA.

A place I never heard of.

Of course, we had to go.

Hubby and I made a day of it. Me mostly because I needed an hour or two on the bike to feel sorry for myself without him being able to ask me ‘what’s wrong’ a million times.

Pulling up, I was surprised to find the place pack. Friends, family, the city council, and other bikers had all come together to show their support for the couple who provides a needed service to the community. They even had those big golden scissors and a huge red ribbon.

It was impressive, really. I had never been to a grand re-opening. It makes me want to open a business just so I can have a ribbon cutting.

The clinic is an iceberg.

Not the chilly kind of iceberg that you find floating off the coast of Alaska with a polar bear sunbathing in the midsummer morning sun.

No, it was more like if you were to look at a side picture of an iceberg. The public only gets to see what’s above water and not what’s underneath.

Walking into the front lobby, we were greeted by the peaceful colors of blues, purples, and gray with pops of colorful animal paintings. The waiting room was large, with comfy seating and welcoming exam rooms.

And if you heard about our traumatic experiences of having to put Pimping Puppy Polar Bear down, you would understand why this was important to me.

But it is what is under the water that is the foundation of the whole place.

I had never seen the back of a veterinarian clinic, so I had no idea of the equipment, cages, oxygen tubes, medication, X-ray machines, surgical rooms, and blankets required to run a successful business. And I’m pretty sure that I didn’t see it all.

It took an hour to ooooo and ahhhhhh over everything, and then I found out they were serving cupcakes- so you know I had to stay a little bit longer. My mama always said that it was rude not to eat when food was being provided.

And I didn’t want to be rude to our new friends. So I had three.

It’s what people don’t see that makes you successful.

I walked in feeling sorry for myself. I left feeling renewed and ready. This power couple, who are running a successful vet clinic, is also a productive member of their local community. They make it look so easy with their warm smiles and welcoming personalities.

We would never know what stress they had to go through to get to that point in their lives: COVID constraints, air conditioners breaking, problems with the parking lot, ensuring all their equipment was ready, and planning a grand re-opening while still making time to meet other vets at a random bar on a cold spring evening.

They didn’t have to invite us to the grand opening. We just met, and didn’t even know each other’s favorite coffee brand yet.

But they did. And we went.

I rode away feeling a little bit better about myself.

Well, not better. They are 50,000 steps further towards their goals than I am. But I felt something even more powerful- pride and excitement.

Here was a successful couple: an amazing woman who opened her own vet clinic and won the hearts of the local community and a salty vet who takes time out of his day to make all veterans feel like they have a place.

They didn’t have to welcome complete strangers—that’s just who they are. Human or animal, you have a home away from home. Doors open, coffee brewing, and a genuine love for our four-legged forever friends.

These are the days that you realize that it is possible. Goals are achievable. It may not be pretty and the public is never going to see all the sleepless nights and stress.

But at the end of the day- goals do become reality.

So here is a shout-out for all my PNW peeps. I have toured the building and met the staff and owners. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if you need anything for your bonus family member, Duvall Veterinary Hospital is the place to go.

It’s where I will be taking Kool Kat Kona Bear.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Veterinarians and Vets appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Productivity meets time constraints.

4 minutes

Friends,

This is what I have decided.

I am just going to have to quit my job.

Let’s forget for a moment that the world is exploding, and everyone is in a financial crisis. Ignore the fact that WalMart has increased the price of my creamer, and I recently thought long and hard about getting a gas credit card because it offered $0.01 off a gallon of gas.

We are going to brush aside the argument that I am hearing on social media that $2.99 is too expensive for an ebook on Amazon as they hold their $6.50 Starbucks Pink Drink.

Let’s focus on the fact that I don’t have time to work.

It’s as simple as that.

It’s a good complaint to have.

Here’s the thing- the one New Year’s resolution that I have somehow managed to uphold is the idea that I was going to be more involved.

I was going to be the person who did things in the community and for the community. A productive member of society who was going to give back because, in reality, I have been blessed.

What you all failed to inform me was that it was going to take up a lot of my time. Rude.

If only I had the same dedication to working out and eating healthy.

It came with some bumps.

Anyone who knows me knows that when I get an idea in my head, and I start having traction- I am running like a moose on ice.

It’s not pretty, and there is a lot of flopping around in all directions- but progress is being made.

It leads me to believe that I can conquer the world one overzealous project at a time.

What I never take into account is the amount of time and effort everything is going to require. The backstage productivity that needs to happen in order to shine during an engagement or get-together.

The stress of creativity vs. the mere 24 hours allotted to us in a day.

It’s never enough time.

I needed a new calendar.

At the beginning of the year, I bought the cutest little calendar—one that would fit into my purse and could be whipped out at a moment’s notice.

Granted- I only used it for birthdays, bill due dates, and the once-a-quarter mandatory family gathering. But it quickly became useless.

I needed something that not only handled the events, parties, and rides that I said ‘yes’ to, but it also needed to be able to hold the preplanning stages, such as how many books I needed to glide a day to have a back stock, the author’s events that needed to be promoted for at least a month prior, and the Amazon Prime Day sales that I wanted to hype up prior to the big mid-year shopping spree.

I used to pre-plan my posts weeks in advance. A backstock of random stories that I wrote at 3 a.m. as a way to clear my head and remember the amusing parts of my life. To have a successful blog, it is recommended that you actually post blogs.

Rude.

White space is not good.

My shrink says I have a death wish. Not the kind where I go flying down I-5 on my motorcycle at 90 m.p.h, whipping in and out of traffic. Or go cliff-jumping into the icy waters of the PNW.

No, I prefer the slow and painful death of working until I can’t see straight—the kind of death where the five pots of coffee eat away at my stomach until I am nauseated and shaking at my desk.

After so many years in the military, where white space in the calendar meant we weren’t training enough, working hard enough, or running far enough- white space has become the devil.

It means I am not hustling. If I fail, it’s because I didn’t do enough.

Unfortunately, it is so ingrained in my head that sitting around and talking or relaxing is worthy of the death penalty- I can’t seem to stop.

Final thoughts.

The irony is that I just wrote a blog about not having enough time to write a blog. I had a thousand other ideas for this episode, like who was the first person to create the pillow or how social media has become the new gambling addiction.

You know- important things.

Do they have a support group for social media addiction? I will have to ask my shrink.

Actually, I can’t. She wrote a book about working with crazy female veterans and quit her job to promote it.

Rude.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Productivity meets time constraints. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Politics and Patty Melts.

5 minutes

Friends,

Yesterday was a day of firsts.

First- I got to meet a wonderful dog who has been riding motorcycles for eight years. And I can promise you- the dog has more skill than I do.

How cute is that? Doesn’t it just make your day a little bit brighter?

And then this happened…

There I was, enjoying a patty melt and a Shirly Temple, when a man walked up and wanted to strike up a conversation. That in of itself is not weird. We were wearing our Combat Veteran Motorcycle Association vests, which usually opens the door for people to come talk to us.

Normally, I never care. I love talking to people, especially other vets, and getting to hear their stories.

But every once in a while- it can go quickly downhill.

Like last night

Know your audience.

Now, everyone who knows me knows that I am a veteran, an author, a mother, a wife, a co-owner of a snake breeding company, and a Harley Davidson owner.

What most people don’t know is that I still work for the federal government.

A job that I happily do because I still have faith in my country. While the political climate does concern me, and I have my own thoughts and opinions on the direction the country has taken in the last 10 years- those are conversations that I have with a select group of people in the safety of my home.

You can say that I bleed Red, White, and Blue.

With a tinge of coffee.

It got political.

Now, the person who decided that the middle of my dinner was an appropriate time to walk over and strike up an in-depth conversation could have been the nicest person in the world.

They could have had all the best intentions.

It could have just been a person who assumed because we ride harley’s that our favorite conversations are about guns, jack daniels, and taxes.

But when the talk turns to the exterme and downright uncomfortable- I get frustrated.

I understand that Americans are passionate about the price of gas, crime, and the housing crisis- but I was just trying to enjoy my patty melt. Not discuss the merits of a total government uphealve.

Thankfully, my husband is calmer than I am in these moments. I tend to get angry and will lash out when someone uses the blood of this countries fallen service members to try to sway my opinion.

The hubby shoo’d them away with all the makings of a disapproving school matron and I almost felt bad for the person as they walked away chatised and feeling 2 inches tall.

But it got me thinking….

Disconnect.

Everyone is allowed to have a opinion. Hell, we have watched it happen for the last 5 years on national t.v. Nothing is off limits apparently. Want to burn the flag? Fine. Want to tear down statues and ban books? As long as you get the majority to say yes. Decide that setting fire to a city block is a good idea? Call the newspapers first.

But what about those people who don’t want to burn the flag? What about the people who want to protest the politicians and want a new, younger group to come in who are more financially savvy? Are they allowed to oppose? Or are they automatically labeled as ‘MAGA’ and brushed off as being conspiracy theorist.

I try to look at everything from the view point of both sides and find the truth lying somewhere in the middle. But recently, I have seen that it is more ‘politically correct’ to be anti-American than it is to be American.

Final thoughts.

I disagreed with 99.8% of what the person was saying last night. But that 0.2%?

It got me thinking.

They said they didn’t feel safe talking to anyone about disagreeing with the governments recent laws.

They didn’t feel safe?

That’s sad.

Even now, as I type this out- I wonder what backlash I will get. Who will call me up first and say- ‘you shouldn’t post that.’

There were many times in history where residents of a country openly disagreed with their leaders. 90% of the time- it didn’t work out so well for the protesters. The countries would suppress freedom of speech in the name of protecting one ideology over another.

‘For the good of the people’ has always been the battle cry. Ironically, historically speaking, that has never changed. Doesn’t matter where in the world or what time period. It’s always the same…

Politican’s /rulers know what’s best for the people. Not people knowing what’s best for their country.

I don’t know if there is a answer to this problem. You can name off any time period to me and I can tell you about how that political climate is no different than this one.

I’m just sad that there are Americans who don’t feel safe anymore. And that I didn’t get to enjoy my patty melt.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Politics and Patty Melts. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.