Megan Bostic's Blog, page 7

National Poetry Months: James L. Dickey

 This is a long one, but well worth the read. My friend Lori, who happens to be a wonderful poet and artist, introduced it to me a couple years back. It's beautiful but also haunting, mostly because it's based on the true story of a stewardess being sucked out of an airplane to her death. It happened in 1962 on an Allegheny Airlines flight after the emergency door randomly opened. 
Falling  by James L. Dickey

A 29-year-old stewardess fell ... to her
death tonight when she was swept
through an emergency door that sud-
denly sprang open ... The body ...
was found ... three hours after the
accident.                                             
                              —New York Times
The states when they black out and lie there rolling    when they turn To something transcontinental    move by    drawing moonlight out of the great One-sided stone hung off the starboard wingtip    some sleeper next to An engine is groaning for coffee    and there is faintly coming in Somewhere the vast beast-whistle of space. In the galley with its racks Of trays    she rummages for a blanket    and moves in her slim tailored Uniform to pin it over the cry at the top of the door. As though she blew
The door down with a silent blast from her lungs    frozen    she is black Out finding herself    with the plane nowhere and her body taken by the throat The undying cry of the void    falling    living    beginning to be something That no one has ever been and lived through    screaming without enough air Still neat    lipsticked    stockinged    girdled by regulation    her hat Still on    her arms and legs in no world    and yet spaced also strangely With utter placid rightness on thin air    taking her time    she holds it In many places    and now, still thousands of feet from her death she seems To slow    she develops interest    she turns in her maneuverable body
To watch it. She is hung high up in the overwhelming middle of things in her Self    in low body-whistling wrapped intensely    in all her dark dance-weight Coming down from a marvellous leap    with the delaying, dumfounding ease Of a dream of being drawn    like endless moonlight to the harvest soil Of a central state of one’s country    with a great gradual warmth coming Over her    floating    finding more and more breath in what she has been using For breath    as the levels become more human    seeing clouds placed honestly Below her left and right    riding slowly toward them    she clasps it all To her and can hang her hands and feet in it in peculiar ways    and Her eyes opened wide by wind, can open her mouth as wide    wider and suck All the heat from the cornfields    can go down on her back with a feeling Of stupendous pillows stacked under her    and can turn    turn as to someone In bed    smile, understood in darkness    can go away    slant    slide Off tumbling    into the emblem of a bird with its wings half-spread Or whirl madly on herself    in endless gymnastics in the growing warmth Of wheatfields rising toward the harvest moon.    There is time to live In superhuman health    seeing mortal unreachable lights far down seeing An ultimate highway with one late priceless car probing it    arriving In a square town    and off her starboard arm the glitter of water catches The moon by its one shaken side    scaled, roaming silver    My God it is good And evil    lying in one after another of all the positions for love Making    dancing    sleeping    and now cloud wisps at her no Raincoat    no matter    all small towns brokenly brighter from inside Cloud    she walks over them like rain    bursts out to behold a Greyhound Bus shooting light through its sides    it is the signal to go straight Down like a glorious diver    then feet first    her skirt stripped beautifully Up    her face in fear-scented cloths    her legs deliriously bare    then Arms out    she slow-rolls over    steadies out    waits for something great To take control of her    trembles near feathers    planes head-down The quick movements of bird-necks turning her head    gold eyes the insight- eyesight of owls blazing into the hencoops    a taste for chicken overwhelming Her    the long-range vision of hawks enlarging all human lights of cars Freight trains    looped bridges    enlarging the moon racing slowly Through all the curves of a river    all the darks of the midwest blazing From above. A rabbit in a bush turns white    the smothering chickens Huddle    for over them there is still time for something to live With the streaming half-idea of a long stoop    a hurtling    a fall That is controlled    that plummets as it wills    turns gravity Into a new condition, showing its other side like a moon    shining New Powers    there is still time to live on a breath made of nothing But the whole night    time for her to remember to arrange her skirt Like a diagram of a bat    tightly it guides her    she has this flying-skin Made of garments    and there are also those sky-divers on tv    sailing In sunlight    smiling under their goggles    swapping batons back and forth And He who jumped without a chute and was handed one by a diving Buddy. She looks for her grinning companion    white teeth    nowhere She is screaming    singing hymns    her thin human wings spread out From her neat shoulders    the air beast-crooning to her    warbling And she can no longer behold the huge partial form of the world    now She is watching her country lose its evoked master shape    watching it lose And gain    get back its houses and peoples    watching it bring up Its local lights    single homes    lamps on barn roofs    if she fell Into water she might live    like a diver    cleaving    perfect    plunge
Into another    heavy silver    unbreathable    slowing    saving Element: there is water    there is time to perfect all the fine Points of diving    feet together    toes pointed    hands shaped right To insert her into water like a needle    to come out healthily dripping And be handed a Coca-Cola    there they are    there are the waters Of life    the moon packed and coiled in a reservoir    so let me begin To plane across the night air of Kansas    opening my eyes superhumanly Bright    to the damned moon    opening the natural wings of my jacket By Don Loper    moving like a hunting owl toward the glitter of water One cannot just fall    just tumble screaming all that time    one must use It    she is now through with all    through all    clouds    damp    hair Straightened    the last wisp of fog pulled apart on her face like wool revealing New darks    new progressions of headlights along dirt roads from chaos
And night    a gradual warming    a new-made, inevitable world of one’s own Country    a great stone of light in its waiting waters    hold    hold out For water: who knows when what correct young woman must take up her body And fly    and head for the moon-crazed inner eye of midwest imprisoned Water    stored up for her for years    the arms of her jacket slipping Air up her sleeves to go    all over her? What final things can be said Of one who starts her sheerly in her body in the high middle of night Air    to track down water like a rabbit where it lies like life itself Off to the right in Kansas? She goes toward    the blazing-bare lake Her skirts neat    her hands and face warmed more and more by the air Rising from pastures of beans    and under her    under chenille bedspreads The farm girls are feeling the goddess in them struggle and rise brooding On the scratch-shining posts of the bed    dreaming of female signs Of the moon    male blood like iron    of what is really said by the moan Of airliners passing over them at dead of midwest midnight    passing Over brush fires    burning out in silence on little hills    and will wake To see the woman they should be    struggling on the rooftree to become Stars: for her the ground is closer    water is nearer    she passes It    then banks    turns    her sleeves fluttering differently as she rolls Out to face the east, where the sun shall come up from wheatfields she must Do something with water    fly to it    fall in it    drink it    rise From it    but there is none left upon earth    the clouds have drunk it back The plants have sucked it down    there are standing toward her only The common fields of death    she comes back from flying to falling Returns to a powerful cry    the silent scream with which she blew down The coupled door of the airliner    nearly    nearly losing hold Of what she has done    remembers    remembers the shape at the heart Of cloud    fashionably swirling    remembers she still has time to die Beyond explanation. Let her now take off her hat in summer air the contour Of cornfields    and have enough time to kick off her one remaining Shoe with the toes    of the other foot    to unhook her stockings With calm fingers, noting how fatally easy it is to undress in midair Near death    when the body will assume without effort any position Except the one that will sustain it    enable it to rise    live Not die    nine farms hover close    widen    eight of them separate, leaving One in the middle    then the fields of that farm do the same    there is no Way to back off    from her chosen ground    but she sheds the jacket With its silver sad impotent wings    sheds the bat’s guiding tailpiece Of her skirt    the lightning-charged clinging of her blouse    the intimate Inner flying-garment of her slip in which she rides like the holy ghost Of a virgin    sheds the long windsocks of her stockings    absurd Brassiere    then feels the girdle required by regulations squirming Off her: no longer monobuttocked    she feels the girdle flutter    shake In her hand    and float    upward    her clothes rising off her ascending Into cloud    and fights away from her head the last sharp dangerous shoe Like a dumb bird    and now will drop in    soon    now will drop
In like this    the greatest thing that ever came to Kansas    down from all Heights    all levels of American breath    layered in the lungs from the frail Chill of space to the loam where extinction slumbers in corn tassels thickly And breathes like rich farmers counting: will come along them after Her last superhuman act    the last slow careful passing of her hands All over her unharmed body    desired by every sleeper in his dream: Boys finding for the first time their loins filled with heart’s blood Widowed farmers whose hands float under light covers to find themselves Arisen at sunrise    the splendid position of blood unearthly drawn Toward clouds    all feel something    pass over them as she passes Her palms over her long legs    her small breasts    and deeply between Her thighs    her hair shot loose from all pins    streaming in the wind Of her body    let her come openly    trying at the last second to land On her back    This is it    this                                                           All those who find her impressed In the soft loam    gone down    driven well into the image of her body The furrows for miles flowing in upon her where she lies very deep In her mortal outline    in the earth as it is in cloud    can tell nothing But that she is there    inexplicable    unquestionable    and remember That something broke in them as well    and began to live and die more When they walked for no reason into their fields to where the whole earth Caught her    interrupted her maiden flight    told her how to lie she cannot Turn    go away    cannot move    cannot slide off it and assume another Position    no sky-diver with any grin could save her    hold her in his arms Plummet with her    unfold above her his wedding silks    she can no longer Mark the rain with whirling women that take the place of a dead wife Or the goddess in Norwegian farm girls    or all the back-breaking whores Of Wichita. All the known air above her is not giving up quite one Breath    it is all gone    and yet not dead    not anywhere else Quite    lying still in the field on her back    sensing the smells Of incessant growth try to lift her    a little sight left in the corner Of one eye    fading    seeing something wave    lies believing That she could have made it    at the best part of her brief goddess State    to water    gone in headfirst    come out smiling    invulnerable Girl in a bathing-suit ad    but she is lying like a sunbather at the last Of moonlight    half-buried in her impact on the earth    not far From a railroad trestle    a water tank    she could see if she could Raise her head from her modest hole    with her clothes beginning To come down all over Kansas    into bushes    on the dewy sixth green Of a golf course    one shoe    her girdle coming down fantastically On a clothesline, where it belongs    her blouse on a lightning rod:
Lies in the fields    in this field    on her broken back as though on A cloud she cannot drop through    while farmers sleepwalk without Their women from houses    a walk like falling toward the far waters Of life    in moonlight    toward the dreamed eternal meaning of their farms Toward the flowering of the harvest in their hands    that tragic cost Feels herself go    go toward    go outward    breathes at last fully Not    and tries    less    once    tries    tries    ah, god—

National Poetry Month: T.S. Eliot

Oh, I love me some T.S. Eliot. I especially like this piece I've chosen for today.  I love
the imagery in it. Love the character. I know we have all felt like him before, inadequate, small, second rate...

It seems he is to lead a lonely life as he worries so much about his shortcomings he is never able too act on his emotions.

Without further ado...

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S. Eliot

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .                               10
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

  In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

  The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,                               20
And seeing that it was a soft October night
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

  And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;                                30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

  In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

  And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—                               40
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

  For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,                       50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So how should I presume?

  And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?                    60
  And how should I presume?

  And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
  And should I then presume?
  And how should I begin?
        .     .     .     .     .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets              70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
        .     .     .     .     .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?                  80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

  And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,                                             90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
  Should say, "That is not what I meant at all.
  That is not it, at all."

  And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,                                           100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
  "That is not it at all,
  That is not what I meant, at all."                                          110
        .     .     .     .     .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

  I grow old . . . I grow old . . .                                              120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

  Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

  I do not think they will sing to me.

  I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

  We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown               130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

National Poetry Month: Langston Hughes

 As I was looking for a poem for my blog today, I decided to go with something by Langston Hughes. When I came across the one below, I thought how apropos it is to our times still! He was a peaceful activist for civil rights and often wrote about oppression. I was trying to find the date this was written, but only found one answer, 1926, so I hope that's right. If anyone can confirm that, let me know. 
To me it's sad that in this day and age people still have to fight for equal rights and against discrimination and bigotry. In many ways I suppose we've come a long way, but we still have miles to go.
I Dream A World Poem  by Langston Hughes

I dream a world where man
No other man will scorn,
Where love will bless the earth
And peace its paths adorn
I dream a world where all
Will know sweet freedom's way,
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day.
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free,
Where wretchedness will hang its head
And joy, like a pearl,
Attends the needs of all mankind-
Of such I dream, my world!

  
 
















Marriage Equality Act photo by the  Celebration Chapel of Kingston NY

National Poetry Month: Edward Estlin Cummings

 Of course we know him better as e.e. cummings. I was going to use a different one of his poems, because this is probably his best known. As I read through them though, I realized it may be his best known, but it's also my favorite by him.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
i carry your heart with me i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poem... carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poem... carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poem...
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poem...

National Poetry Month: Sylvia Plath

Yes, it's national poetry month, so I've decided to share a poem a day (hopefully I can keep up). Today is one of my favorite poets, Sylvia Plath.

Mad Girl's Love Song"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

A Bunch of Lazy Addicts

Since I've been unemployed, I've noticed more the negative view on government assistance programs such as welfare, medicaid and food stamps. I've never seen these things as negative. Many of the "jokes" which come in the form of memes, ecards and just generally ranting on social media are also very racist in tone, which to me is abhorrent. Much of it is also placing blame on Obama, which is just ignorant and uninformed.

According to CNN, the economy added 295,000 jobs in February. Also, we've seen 60 consecutive months of job growth with 12 million jobs created.  At 5.5%, the unemployment rate is the lowest it's been since May 2008.

 I know some people work the system, but of all the people who access these services, I would guess the majority needs them. I've never needed to use them before, but now, having lost my job, I do. I'm on medicaid once my insurance runs out with my employer, I've filed for unemployment (which is still being processed), and I've applied for Basic Food (food stamps). I have worked from the time I was 15 up until I was a stay at home mom. I've worked shitty jobs just to have a job. Not all of us are taking advantage of the system. What if we didn't have that system in place? Should we just let our people starve and become homeless because they lost their jobs.

Also, I've applied for 12 jobs since being let go and I've heard from 2, rejected by both. I'm looking. But I cannot look 24/7. I'm taking a class to better myself, I have kids to attend to and basic life stuff. The negativity I've seen about those who are unemployed is pissing me off. I have a few things to say about these memes.

Oh, yeah, this is funny. I have a smart phone and tattoos. I got them before losing my job. So, I have to cut off my phone service, which is the only phone I have, because I applied for government assistance? I have teenagers too, so I should have no way to get a hold of them and vice versa? Seems legit. And sometimes I get a pedicure...that my mom pays for when I drive her. You have no idea what goes on behind closed doors. You have no right to judge.


There are limitations to things you can buy with foodstamps. You cannot buy alcohol or tobacco. I cannot even purchase my household products. But am I supposed to buy ONLY fruits, vegetables and proteins with my food card? My kids can't enjoy a popsicle every once in a while? Or some goldfish crackers or a bag of chips? Yeah, that makes perfect sense. Granted, I actually very rarely buy chips, but if you saw me buying them with my food card you would instantly judge me (I'm generalizing by using "you" I understand. You know what I mean though)? And if I want to buy a bottle of wine for dinner and use my own money since it's not covered by food stamps? We cannot have SOME of the finer things because I lost my job by no fault of my own? Screw you.


Really? Working at McDonalds is more respectable than unemployment. How about you lose your job, then we'll talk about this. I am in marketing. I'm a professional writer. Even unemployment says to look for jobs that are suitable for you. I could probably  not survive working at a fast food restaurant.

You see, not everyone using the system is working the system. There are good people out there out of work and it's not that easy to find a job. Would I buy rib eyes with my food card? No. But I might buy a cheaper cut. Lobster? No. But I might want some salmon or shrimp. Every once in awhile of course. Am I to be judged for that? What people buy with their cards are their own business. My money will last a lot longer than people who spend their money on stuff like that.

So before you good Christians go about judging people, why don't you take a walk in their shoes for a little bit. Put yourself in their place. Would you give up your cell phone? Would you not want your kids (and you for that matter) to have treats?  Would you really work in fast food if you were a CEO or basically had any job that was not in fast food? (I'm not dissing fast food workers, I'm just making a point about finding work for people with skill sets in other areas)? Wouldn't you try your best to make things feel as normal as possible?

Life After Work: Denied

I applied for unemployment as soon as I was let go from my job. They say even if you earned money that week, or whatnot, to still turn in your weekly claim. They also said if you have some kind of medical condition that might inhibit your working, get a note from your doctors.

If you read my blog regularly, you will know that I suffer from Chronic Fatigue
Syndrome (CFS). I went to a naturopath and she said I have adrenal fatigue. Anyway, it's all severe fatigue. What is does to me is pretty much tire me out by early noon, force me to sleep, causes memory and focus issues, sometimes my joints and body hurts, basically, it sucks and I hate it.

So I got a note from my doctor that states that I can work, but only party time. No biggee, I've been working part time for 5 years now and it pays the bills. So, as I'm looking for jobs, I'm looking mostly for telecommute and part time jobs. Now, locally, marketing and writing are not hot commodities, that's why I'm looking for telecommute freelance work. I figure if I can get at least 2 of those jobs (okay, maybe 3), it will be like having 1 job.

Also, I'm still trying to start my own business and write and all that crap.

I get weekly mail from Unemployment stating that they're still trying to decide if I'm eligible. I figure, whatever, no big deal, as long as it starts coming in soon because I'm going to eventually run out of money if I can't find work asap.

Last week when I file my weekly claim, it says there's some kind of issue and I need to call the office. Fine. I try to call and it's nearly impossible, so I sent an email. I get an answer back that I still need to try to get a hold of someone by phone, but it looks like I screwed up on my first weeks claim.

A day after that I get a letter stating that I've been denied. WTF?!?  The denial comes from the fact my doctor hasn't cleared me for work and I have to be available for work.

Um...she did say I was cleared for work. Part time work.

So I finally get someone on the phone (they had to call me back because their phones were backed up for an hour and a half O.o) and she tells me that I have to be available to work 8 am to 6 pm M-F. I'm like, "I am." She tells me, no, I have to be available for full time work.

What kind of bullshit is that? I worked part time, paid into the system, my work isn't contesting it...

Because I have CFS? I'm perfectly capable of working a job as long as it's not over 5 hours a day.

I asked, so what are people with medical issues supposed to do? Go hungry? I
mean, I suppose I could apply for disability, but I CAN WORK! I suppose I'm eligible for that, but I don't feel right about it.

Anyway, she put my paperwork back through. If it doesn't go through this time I have to appeal. Meanwhile the bank account is dwindling away.

I mean, seriously, I'm a single mom of two teenagers who just lost her job. I'm not trying to work the system. I just want to get by until I can find something else! I actually want to work. I looked it up and it said that you could get unemployment if you worked part time. So what's the story? I cannot believe it's just because I have CFS. #discrimination.

So, anyway, that happened. We'll see if they'll accept it this time. If not, I get to go through the appeal process. Joy.

Where did he go?

A friend of mine from high school and college told me we lost a high school friend. I wanted to ask, "Where did he go?" Because at our age, we're too young to be losing people. It's not time for our schoolmates to start dying on us.

Yet, it's happened. This isn't the first school mate that has passed, but he's still one of the first and someone I spent a lot of time with in high school. So this one hits very close to home.

We're not young anymore. And this is the age that we start losing people. This is when people start having heart problems and contracting cancer. One out of 3 women contract cancer. 1 in 5 die from it. Think about your closest friends. Which one of them will it be? Men's outlook is even more dire. 1 out of 2 contract. 1 out of 4 die.

My mantra about life being short is sad but true. This is why I live big. I admit to
having used questionable judgment at times, but I learn from my mistakes and have few regrets. If I make it to old age, I don't want to be sitting around with my 50 cats saying to myself, "if only I'd done_____" or "I wish I would have tried_____" I want to have done all the things.

I also want to make an impact on the people around me. I want help, nurture, and support my family and friends. And if I've had a falling out, I want to be content with the lengths I have gone to to make amends.

When it's all over, I hope to look back at my life and not lament the things I never did. I want to go out satisfied that I'd lived life fully, leaving as few failures as possible in my wake.

YA and Sexism: The virtual vilification of Andrew Smith

Twitter has been blowing up lately over an interview Andrew Smith,  author of YA books such as Winger, Grasshopper Jungle and the Marbury Lens, did for Vice. The article is called, The Failure of Male Societies: Author Andrew Smith Tackles Monsters and Sex. His interview had female bloggers calling him out as a sexist and misogynist.

In particular, it was just one answer. This one:

Q. On the flip side, it sometimes seems like there isn’t much of a way into your books for female readers. Where are all the women in your work?

A: I was raised in a family with four boys, and I absolutely did not know anything about girls at all. I have a daughter now; she’s 17. When she was born, that was the first girl I ever had in my life. I consider myself completely ignorant to all things woman and female. I’m trying to be better though.
 A lot of The Alex Crow is really about the failure of male societies. In all of the story threads, there are examples of male-dominated societies that make critical errors, whether it’s the army that Ariel falls in with at the beginning, or the refugee camp, or Camp Merrie-Seymour for boys, or the doomed arctic expedition, they’re all examples of male societies that think that they’re doing some kind of noble mission, and they’re failing miserably.

 So, that's a big deal, right? OMG! I can't believe he said that!!! Um...right. Women were having a fit because Andrew Smith says he doesn't get women. I tweeted this:


I mean, seriously? Isn't it a well known fact that men don't get women. And honestly, I don't get men, so there's that.

One Tweeter
A blogger stated that it "assumes that men and masculinity are the default settings
for humanity." Really? If that's what that statement is assuming then I'm reading it wrong. She goes on to say that "Saying 'I'm trying' is not the same as trying." She thinks that by supporting Smith and saying he was just being honest "let's those with privilege off the hook." WTF? Can you say, read too much into something? Jesus.

Yet another: "The interpretation is that women are less than human, or at the very least, inherently different from men. That is one of the oldest sexist arguments in the entire world." Uh, how does one one interpret his statement translate into this?


Last one I'll share: "This is an astounding claim to make and one that exacerbates a lot of pernicious misogynistic attitudes, in the publishing industry and society at large." Does it really? Misogynistic? Come on!

Okay, one more, but I don't remember where I read it, but she said something to the effect that "how can he come up with all these fantasy/fiction ideas and not understand women?" I'm paraphrasing of course, but it was something like that. Um, last time I checked, these were two completely different things. Women are carbon based and living. Fantasy books are make believe and pure fiction.

I would call myself a feminist. I'm a huge proponent of women's rights and equality. But I was not offended by this interview in any way.  I truly do think people have nothing better to do than find fault that isn't there.  I think just as some women are more comfortable writing female characters, Andrew Smith is more comfortable writing from the male POV.

This is what I think about Smith's statement.

Andrew Smith:
was being completely honest with his feelings.writes quirky books about boys.is writing what he wants to and what he knows and should write because he's brilliant at it.says he doesn't get girls, not that he doesn't not want to get girls.(Big. Difference.)Also: 
female readers LOVE his books. I believe saying your trying is trying.We all don't write everything perfectly.Most these bloggers took what he said out of context and did not post that 2nd paragraph of his answer, which explains a lot.The interviewer set him up to answer in that way.Just because you have the imagination to write the way Smith does, does not mean you have insight to everything on the planet.If you read the article he also says he grew up with 3 brothers, no sisters and his parents were abusive. The only woman in your life is abusive. So, doesn't it make some sense that Smith doesn't "get" girls.This was a virtual witch hunt on Twitter. I love Twitter, but I don't like when things like this happen. Especially to good people. I cannot vouch that Smith is "good" but many people defending him know him personally and say as such and I believe them.

Another thing,  why do some writers, and I'm generalizing, I know, but most the bloggers I know also write...anyway, why do some writers feel the need to cut each other down? This business is hard and cruel enough as it is without us fighting each other. Why do we have to seek the worst in our colleagues? We're not really in competition, I mean to a point I guess, but we should be supporting each other, lifting each other up, not keeping each other down.

This vilification of Smith forced him to shut down his Twitter and Facebook. I hope it's only temporary because I like seeing his posts and I really do think he's brilliant. - even if he doesn't "get" girls.

Life After Work: Tacoma Athletic Commission

I haven't blogged in a while. Since right after being let go from my job. You'd think now that I'm not working I'd have all the time in the world, yet I feel busier now than I ever had. Between looking for work, trying to start a business, side work, writing and other whatnots...I'm exhausted.

I'll talk about those things another day though. Today I'm going to talk about a cause I joined - the Tacoma Athletic Commission (TAC). I was asked to join by one of the committee chairs after submitting an ad I designed for my father for one of their banquets publications.

TAC raises funds, holds event, recognizes the achievements of local athletes (and others in sports related fields) and dedicates itself to youth sports.


They have a Golden Gloves boxing championship, a Golf Classic, an Old Timers Baseball/Softball Banquet, ceremonies for stellar high school athletes for each season, and in June have a big event to give away scholarships to the Male and Female Student Athlete of the Year.

TAC also supports other athletic events held by the parks, high schools, colleges, sports clubs and teams, and other events held in the area.

They are responsible for bringing the Tacoma Pierce County Sports Museum, the Tacoma-Pierce County Sports Hall of Fame, the Tacoma-Pierce County Softball-Baseball Old Timers and the Washington State Sports Hall of Fame to Tacoma.

I decided I needed a cause. I mean, I support other things, but have not been actively involved. I decided since I came from a heavy sports loving background, I played ball, coached soccer, one of my kids is still playing college level soccer, and I have talents to volunteer, that this would be a good fit for me. I'm also a big proponent of kids playing sports to keep them in shape and out of trouble.

Today was the first meeting I've gone to and it was a good time. Seeing all the athletes from years past - record setters, award winners - was pretty intriguing. The guest speaker was Andrea Geubell,  a track and field star that went to Curtis High School.

Andrea holds records in Long Jump, Triple Jump, both indoor and outdoor, 400 Meter and 100 Meter Dash.  She won a gold medal for Triple Jump at the
2012 NACAC Under-23 Championships. She took the win at the 2013 USA Outdoor Track and Field Championships, and helped take her college, the Kansas Jayhawks win their first NCAA women's title.

She's back in Tacoma, still training and substitute teaching. She wants to give back to her community and help other athletes achieve their goals.

We have a ton of great athletes to come out of our city.

Lawyer Milloy - NFL PatriotsJohn Kitna - NFL Seahawks, Bengals, etc.Marcus Trufant  - NFL SeahawksJon Lester - MLB Red SoxIsaiah Thomas - NBA KingsNate Burleson - NFL VikingsRon Cey - MLB Dodgers, etc.Jeffrey Conine - MLB MarlinsSugar Ray Seales - BoxerKaye Hall Greff - Olympic gold medal swimmer Gretchen Fraser - Olympic medalist in Alpine SkiingPhil Sykes - NHL Kings, OlympianAlex Montgomery - WNBA Liberty
I could go on and on...

I'm looking forward to helping TAC however I can and meeting more local athletes.