Michón Neal's Blog, page 25

Integrated Living Part Five: How Kids’ Shows Made Me a Better Person

 

Until I started watching shows like Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, Signing Time,  Sesame Street, and others, I struggled with being a parent. I grew up in a household where yelling and spanking were the norm. It was a punishment-as-discipline mindset. Add that to my general invisibility as a middle child and weirdo and suffering other traumas and health issues, eventually I got to the point where I doubted people were inherently good. I had mostly only bore witness to dysfunctional ways of relating. I always searched for better. I only knew what I didn’t want to be and do yet that is not the same thing as knowing what to replace it with. For this and a few other reasons I never wanted to have children. I didn’t believe I could make a decent or good parent. There’s also the fact that my introversion doesn’t mix well with loud, energetic children. With my health issues, I thought I’d never even have the chance, anyway.

Then, several years ago, shortly after one of my surgeries, the treatment I was given reset my body and I fell pregnant. It was my miracle, my little child, and the only one I’ll likely be able to ever have. I was already a pro with babies; I’d watched and helped my older sibling care for her children. That was the easy part. The part I worried about was after the child started walking and talking. I already knew some things I wanted to teach. I had no idea how to keep the lessons positive, how to discipline without punishing, or even just how to interact in a physically affectionate way as the child aged. I started realizing all these pieces missing out of me that should have been built up in my own childhood.

Fortunately, I started watching kids’ shows again with my child. Not the crazy ones, the educational ones. As I watched them, I felt myself tear up. Here were parents interacting positively, lovingly, and respectfully with their children. Here were creative games that could be played to foster learning. Here was the freedom to let the child grow as they would. All of the things I lacked. I began to consciously monitor my interactions with my own child. I ruminated about the giant hole in myself and ways to fill that with something loving. I began to become a better person on my own, despite the fact that few others had ever helped. I would not become a statistic; I’d already beaten the odds in so many other ways and I would not sink into the generational curses of faulty parenting practices. I’m not perfect, and I never will be, but I owed it to my self and my child to be my best.

My partner grew up in a home that was happy (for him at least). I know many people who’ve grown up in broken homes but I also know others that came from happy homes. My partner tells me all the time how much of his privilege he’d taken for granted until he knew me. We’re both better able to appreciate where we came from and better able to forge new paths forward. I found healthier ways to deal my anger, pain, loss, and loneliness. I was able to open up more about myself and my needs. And most of it was thanks to some imaginary characters. I think that’s pretty powerful.

No such thing as “normal”

Keizick:

This is why I write. It’s why I started writing. Nowhere in the media was a reflection of someone like me. Not in film, no depictions in the pages I flipped of books, no whispers in the notes of songs. Throughout my meanderings between different schools and jobs I found “almost” people. People who only had one or two things in common with me. By my very nature, my existence serves to automatically make others uncomfortable. I was too complex, too varied, too immense; a dragon. Thus I ended up burning or crushing those I only wanted to share with, not on purpose but by the design of our very society. I always felt like I matched more people than could ever match me. Add to that the sad fact that greater misfortune falls upon me just because of the attributes I have intersecting in the way that they do and my gaping loneliness makes some kind of sense. It’s not entirely intentional; the universe isn’t conspiring against me. It’s just that this culture, this world is set up to benefit certain kinds of people and I am one of the furthest ones from that.

Until recently I had not learned to view my own voice as one that mattered. Yet I’m glad I did write. I wrote about people like me. I wrote about people I was curious about but never got to see anywhere in art or media. I still write about people who are anything but normal. I’m only just now beginning to be truly comfortable with and dance with my weirdness. Or rather, I’ve learned it’s ok not to let others’ opinions dictate how I feel about myself. I’ll never make everyone happy-hell, I don’t even think I’ll make anyone happy. But I can at least leave a reminder that I existed. I know I’m here and that’s what counts. If other weirdoes can find and read my stories and know that at least one other weirdo exists, well, that’d be fantastic. I could never write for normal people. I’ve never had normal experiences. If that means I’m forever on the margins that’s not my problem. I can only live my life. And cherish every strange moment.

And now my favorite part of this post:

“I will never be anyone’s idea of normal. No sandstone institution will elevate my opinions to the status of truth. No industry will ever deem me their ideal: not of beauty, not of personality, not of anything. But I do not care about this, because I know that normal is a lie so I refuse to chase it. I refuse to change a single thing about myself in order to meet a standard that was never set with me in mind. I refuse to think or speak or act in a way that would make me more acceptable to the kinds of people society considers normal because I know what they do not: that the pedestal on which they are perched is a precarious one. Because the other thing about normal, you see, is that it is ever-changing, and the higher one climbs on the backs of the marginalised and dispossessed, the farther one has to fall when the goalposts shift.”

Originally posted on Days Like Crazy Paving:

Let me tell you something about normality.

Normal is a construct invented by the privileged to pathologise non-conformity. Normal is a reason to keep you out of a space because you’re too brown, too female, too queer, too trans, not binary enough, not able-bodied enough, not rich enough, not connected enough for the dominant class’ tastes. Normal is why women earn less, why non-whites are relegated to poorer neighbourhoods, why queer and trans people are targets of violent crime, why disabled people are stigmatised and looked down on and shunned, why sex workers aren’t allowed the agency to run their own lives.

Most of all, normal is a lie.

I am not normal. I am too brown and too female (and femme) and too mentally ill and too queer to be normal. Most of the people I know aren’t normal. And every time one of us tries – usually so that we might get that job we really want or a place on that guest speaker list or a piece of writing published or just acceptance into a new circle of friends – we find that the goalposts have shifted. Because the big secret about normal is that it’s whatever the people oppressing you want it to be. You can never meet the standard, because the standard will change with the specific goal of making you fall short yet again.

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Smashwords Read an Ebook Week

The first two books in the Allison Dutch series and The Black Tree series are still free. Now every other book in each series is half off. “What a savings,” as the guy from Galaxy Quest once said. Anyway, it’s a good opportunity to catch up on each series so far. The last few Black Tree series books will be published within the year. Then new adventures shall begin. Like with Dune, the story is far from over.

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mneal

Character and Song #21: Queen Aeryn

Download: electric-5-cube-electric-2-inferno.mp3

The queen of all vampires. The first logmin vampire. A vindictive bitch. With long black hair, piercing brown eyes, and caramel skin linking her to ancient Egypt, Queen Aeryn has appetites bigger than Earth. A good bit of her character is based on the lover I lost to death a few weeks ago. One of her favorite pastimes is murdering Mark Ashton’s incarnations. Her latest reincarnation has granted her the powers of all races of vampire. She doesn’t care much for politics yet is extremely manipulative. She has a magnetic nature that often results in strangers trying to kiss her. There is nothing she hates more than lies yet she must do so to save the lives of those she loves. She has a fairly bad temper but she also loves deeply. As she grows up she seeks to correct her mistakes while protecting her kingdom. As evil as anyone may think she is, she’s also the only one who stands a chance of defeating the elf that wants to destroy the universe. Because she needs no words to express her sensuality and aggression, *electric 5 cube electric 2 inferno (see above) by James Neal fits her as well as her Shroud. Follow her adventures through the Allison Dutch series and the Aftermath series.

*copyright James Neal. Seriously Mark Ashton will kill you if you steal it.

Tempered Schism

Whilst suffering mild anxiety and weariness from my PCOS last night, I had something click for me. I was out at a poly meetup and despite how odd and disconnected I was feeling, I loved being there. The people were wonderful and kind, my partner was thoughtful and caring, and that magical creativity burst forth in conversation. I am an introvert, but I noticed a couple of nuances that make mine just that much stranger. I managed to still make a few friends, found a couple new ideas to add to my stories, and just had generally awesome discussions all night (when I wasn’t fleeing outside to smoke when the sound of all those voices started to feel as if it were moving through me, that is). Yet as those present began sharing stories it suddenly clicked for me. I understood why it was so hard for me to talk about myself with anyone. I knew what made it more difficult for me to forge friendships and why those I did form were more intense than traditional ones.

I could rarely ever have normal friends or friendships. Most of my conversations with people revolve around information, creativity, or philosophy. This is in part due to my addiction to these things. It is also due in part to the fact that I have very few happy or silly stories to share. The majority of my tales are either me helping someone in need or others taking advantage of or hurting me. The memories others so nonchalantly share hold no commonalities for me due to the fact that I literally have no applicable likenesses in mine. I feel like an alien because in a big sense I am. My experiences are heavy, complex, and intertwined. I do not often speak of them because the average person can not handle them, should not be introduced to them so early on, or would want to hear them for the wrong reasons.

I choose my friends carefully. For me, being introverted means choosing my interactions intentionally. The weight of my memories transforms every interaction into a possible investment, and the chance of loss is always greater than the chance for gain. I have long thought that the majority of people simply hate my guts but the real issue is something else entirely. What I have to offer and share is so far removed from most shared narratives. I am often overlooked. Only the rare person can begin to make sense of me. This means I am often more lonely than alone, but with the precious few I’ve found I can build happier memories. Together we’ve found new ways of relating and created our own narratives. I may never be normal. I may never understand all of the things people take for granted every day. I may never be able to make instant friends with others. But understanding how my life and experiences have altered the ways I can interact with others is an opportunity to better know myself, my boundaries, my abilities, and to seek what I truly need. I am the odd man out and that’s ok. I think I’m moving towards accepting that.

The Black Tree Series Volume 5, Book Ten and Eleven: Caught in the Crossfire and The Three Talismans

The Black Tree Series Volume 5, Book Ten and Eleven: Caught in the Crossfire and The Three Talismans

Caught in the Crossfire-Saje has decided to be put to sleep in order to save the life of the person who was murdered. The two strangers who changed everyone’s lives continue to run amok and the strange animals they brought with them suddenly turn renegade and attack the gang. Meanwhile, Mikassa sneaks around and collects three very special necklaces.

The Three Talismans-Remember those necklaces Mikassa took? Yeah, it turns out they could be combined to form a special key that opened the prison of one of the scariest gods to ever exist: Mardock, god of gods. Mikassa leads the way to the Sun Kingdom, torturing the crew the whole way, and decides to release said god. When the god takes over his body, the gang rightly runs the hell away.

 

Also available on Kindle, Kobo,  and Smashwords.

Was the crucifixion of Jesus a sacrifice?

I adore mind puzzles like this. Maybe that’s why my writing is the way it is. Nonsense is nonsense, no matter how much you rationalize.

Was the crucifixion of Jesus a sacrifice?.

My New Obsession

Ah ha ha! I just found a wonderful new hole to fall into. Yes yes must explore, must flesh it out, must, absolutely must, write about it to truly delve into the experience of it. I always knew I was weird. Now I have found more edges of my mind to slide past in effort to discover what waits beyond. I love world/mind-building! I have found fuel in the form of research. Now I must feast and consume until I have gone over every corner, every point of view, every light and dark shape.

Absent Opportunities

I do still plan to publish the next The Black Tree book. I’m also nearly done writing a book about Queen Aeryn’s grandparents. You’ll even get to learn why Jeffery and Mark never mentioned them. The Cuil Multiverse is ever growing and the story of Lilith is nearly fully formed in my head already. Eventually, and out of order, the last book in this project will be written-the book where I truly face my past to see if I’m ready to move on. That will hurt to write and I’ll be needing such enormous support from friends and family to confront all of that once and for all, and then to share it with the world like some kind of nut.

Yet right now I need a different sort of support. It’s not what happened to me in my past. It’s who I knew. And where they’ve gone. She is nowhere. She has disappeared from the universe, dispersed across galaxies like mist. She used to be a lover of mine. She was an  inspiration for the woman Queen Aeryn came to be in her adulthood. She helped me to see that sexuality could be regained and repurposed for the self even when it had been damaged by those who didn’t give a fuck. She was like a louder, braver version of myself. She ended up leaving me to get married to her boyfriend but I didn’t mind. We were still friends for a while until I became a background character in her life. I wished her well, supported her businesses, and stepped away to let her enjoy her new family. Less than a year later, just this past weekend, she passed away. Just up and died and no one knows why yet. My heart is wrenching. I have no idea what to do with myself. She was so young and so energetic. I can only be grateful that I started this project and that she was one of the people I wrote to. I was able to tell her everything I’d wanted and needed to. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less now that she is gone. It’s as if a shovel has dug up my heart where she lay into pieces. What shall I do with these pieces? I’ve barely had time to mourn my favorite cousin passing or my mom nearly dying of the same thing that took him just months ago. Sometimes it really does feel as if everyone is dying around me and I have no time. Yet I have no moment to breathe with taking care of my child, his cousins, and searching for a new job that won’t trigger my panic attacks. Rest has always been elusive for me. Perhaps for her sake I should start making room for it.

Rest in peace, my love.

Character and Song #20: Lilith

Download: james-5.mp3

The first human woman, the first wife of Adam, and the baddest bitch to ever step foot on Earth. Lilith is the mother of all monsters that originated on Earth. She is seductress, she is power, and she is insatiable (sounds familiar, eh? I’m sure there’s another character I have who’s very similar. I wonder what that means?). Rejecting the unequal relationship she had with Adam, she carves out her own space with the Archangel Samael and Seraphim Vitas. Over time, they breed the creatures that evolve into werewolves, vampires, and other creatures of the night. She and her ilk become nearly as immortal as the gods with help from a very special tree (I wonder what it could be?). Yet when the human population is threatened by the Toba Event, set in motion by a nefarious asshole who wants to wipe out all life on Earth, it’s up to Lilith to save them (now I’m sure I’ve heard this one before). Hey, she’s not all bad. Her theme can only be the masterpiece that the talented *James Neal has created above. Lilith bows to no one, not even the Death that chases her, and the music James has created is just as bold as she. Her adventures will be documented in the series: In the Time of Toba. But don’t worry, there are hints and glimpses of her throughout the Cuil Multiverse.

*James Neal retains all rights to this song. If you’d like to distribute or otherwise use this song in any way, please send me a message so that I can let him know. Don’t steal it because that’s not cool and I will send Mark Ashton to kill you.