America Needs Marriage Counseling

Left: you’re yelling and your rhetoric is terrible.

Right: you’re not even trying to listen.

The Left is just so fucking sick of racism that when they think about, they get pissed off.  Pissed off enough to think that getting rid of the Confederate flag and Confederate memorials is a good thing.  They’re not entirely wrong if you look at it this way: racism is systemic.  If it is built into the system, then removing objects that the system put in place would be a positive statement made by the country that most of us (like we already know) aren’t racist.  The Confederacy, though having many reasons for their succession that included a very valid stance that state’s rights trump federal law, also stood for one of the most racist acts our country committed.  It’s a painful part of our history.  So the thought of tearing down a statue or defacing one that belongs to a slave owner seems reasonable.  This is the admirable part of the anti-racism movement: getting rid of symbols of racism like its an act of good faith (it probably is).

Now let’s consider the fact that often, when a person does not feel they are being heard, they yell.  The left is yelling.  The problem is that because the Left is yelling, they aren’t hearing the response of everyone who is not racist saying that they aren’t.  Trump has said it and continues to denounce David Duke and the KKK.  He obviously does not support racism, or Nazism in our country.  They also aren’t paying spectacular attention to history: not every Confederate memorial is a symbol of our country’s slave owning past.

Now the Right (and those in between) are saying: “Come fucking on.  Quit acting like children.”  They are making a mockery of the Left’s insistence that racism is still a thing (it is) and that it is systemic (it is).  The message isn’t being heard because the messengers appear to be throwing a tantrum.  Think about when the anti-slave movement started, and what that looked like.  People wrote articles, published pamphlets and circulated them, called community meetings where local people spoke out against slavery (and women’s rights- these things were coming about around the same time, interestingly, a time in which we had our own Enlightenment, which opened many doors for women).  It was peaceful (on the side of those looking to create change), it was powerful.  It was good rhetoric (even though in the case of Ida B. Wells, it resulted in the lynching of three of her closest friends, which was legal at the time).  Good rhetoric is what the Left lacks and why the Right will never listen, even if the Left is absolutely right.

A lack of good rhetoric is what makes today’s activist groups unbearable.  If they want people to truly listen, they need to approach the subject of racism with intelligence, a thorough knowledge of U.S. history to inform their approach, and dignity (not violence or hatred of their own).  They have to stop being so damned critical, so loud.  If the Left began to whisper (but whisper prolifically), others would lean in to hear what they are saying.  Instead of good rhetoric, they do this:   Their actions are making them a joke and impossible to take seriously.

If the rhetoric of the Left included calm, lucid arguments, people would be more willing to grant their requests.  At the least, maybe there could be a conversation about racism in our country.  One where people aren’t denying that it exists and where they are focusing on the solution rather than the problem, then maybe we could get somewhere.  What the Left wants is less fucking racism.  We all want that (with a few exceptions).  Yelling is not going to reduce racism or change the minds of those who deny it exists.  A conversation might, though.  A conversation could bring people together instead of tearing them apart.



Gender, Shmender

We have so much free time on our hands that now we can argue about gender.  Let me show you how I see it: on the one side you’ve got science, which says that sex and gender are the same thing (you have a vagina, you are a woman, you have a penis, you are a man), and on the other side is a group of people who believe that gender is a subjective feeling, and not exactly related to genitalia (which is interesting because for most of the planet, the genitalia and the feeling pretty much match, or at least match enough that they don’t have to have sexual reassignment surgery to make them match sufficiently).

Somewhere floating around in the middle of this is some interesting gender theory (you might think gender studies, though I encountered it in a graduate level literary theory class).  Judith Butler, for example, has written on the performativity of gender stating that one’s gender identity is not simply the expression of one’s inner gender (because the self has no gender) but rather it is something that is co-constructed through the interaction between the individual and society.

This is not to suggest that gender identity can be put on and taken off like a pair of pants, but that what makes gender identity appear to be a uniform aspect of a person’s self is merely an effect caused by similarly repeated performances of gender identity day in and day out.  That is, if you look like a duck, walk like a duck, and quack like a duck all day every day, people are going to call you a duck.  They’re not saying that there is a duck essence behind the duck performance.  People see the duck being the definition we have given ducks and call the animal a duck (people like to categorize things; it makes the world easier to understand).

But what do we say about those who feel like a woman right down to the core (regardless of genitalia)?  What if the animal performing the duck says it really feels like a swan?  Should we redefine ducks? Or Swans? Should subjective feelings about gender be used to redefine gender?  That seems to be what is happening (or at least what some people may want).  Sex and gender are being deconstructed into separate parts, with science defining the former and subjective experience defining the latter because science cannot tell us whether or not the self has a gender (arguably identity lies outside of the realm of hard science).

This is fine for me, but people also like to be right and have other people tell them they are right. So the gender debate is going to go on and on just like the God debate; faith can’t prove science wrong and science can’t prove faith wrong because they are in utterly different realms (which is interesting because science is also subjective and filled with theory, but that isn’t this conversation).  With that in mind, can I just suggest that we let people call themselves what they want and pee where they want, and move onto something that actually matters?  Otherwise, we are going to be doing this ( forever.


Butler, Judith. “Imitation and Gender Insubordination.” The Lesbian and Gay Studies Reader.   Ed. Henry Abelove et al. Routledge, 1993.

Grief Writing

I think I have finally figured out how to write about my mom.  Just like the grief, I can’t take it all at once.  I break off little bits and pieces at a time, just enough to nibble on.  If I took a big ol’ bite, I’d choke to death.  Like it was a spoonful of Nutella and I stepped on a Lego.  So, I’ll write little vignettes.  Snap shots of her life, of mine, of her death.

Let me tell you this really quick.  My mom was my best friend, my companion, my son’s third parent.  She was entwined and ingrained in our lives as closely as anyone can be that is not a spouse.  I go home to her house every day.  Park where she parked.  Feed the animals she brought home.  Water the lawn she tended.  I live there, in my childhood home, in the house her and my dad picked out together.  It’s so full of memories, all I can do to change it is move the furniture around.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve.  And there is nothing you can say to someone who is grieving that is going to change anything.  I have found though that there is one thing, and only one thing, that is actually really nice to hear.  I love you.  So if you know someone who is grieving the loss of someone close, try those words.  Those words say so much more than “I’m sorry”.  They say “I’m here with you” because I didn’t realize how alone I wasn’t until she died.

As hard as it is to write through the grief, it is just as hard to submit those grief writings for publication.  But, I do what I always do.  Just close my eyes and click.

Ah, freedom.

I’ve taken the leap.

I thought before today that I was living the dream, whatever that is, by being a poor college student working part time.  Of course, the education was supposed to help me land a real job, where I could work for 40 hours or more a week and never have time to write.

Sounds like a dream come true.  Not.

So, to hell with that idea.  I dropped all of my classes during the first week of the second quarter and have no intention of returning to the credential program.

From what I understand, teachers spend the day in class, spend their prep periods and lunches grading papers, the weekend and the evenings planning lessons and grading even more papers.  They work all day, and at home and on the weekends.  Summers off sound great, but teachers get those off because they put in a whole year’s worth of work in 8 months.  A teacher friend of mine said that she knew a fellow teacher who logged her hours meticulously and discovered that if she worked a 9 to 5 job, she would have gotten the equivalent of exactly two weeks off a year.  If I became a teacher, my life would be teaching and I would write on the side.  That is the opposite of what I want.

This girl has got to write.  I’ll teach on the side.

Tucker Max

I just read the best/worst book.

A few weeks back, I implored my FaceBook friends to recommend books to me, in any genre, to add to my summer reading (which I realized I was missing nearly half way into the summer).  I was given several good recs including Anne Rice, Dr. Seuss and Neal Stephenson.  My buddy Chad had told me about this book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max a few months ago.  Said it was laugh out loud funny.  Mentioned it again when I was cruising for suggestions.

I don’t generally buy books that are sixteen dollars unless they are books about quantum physics.  For some reason, I eat that shit up.  Anyway, I figure, what the hell, it’s the summer, which is the only time I really go crazy for books.  So I buy this book.  A picture of Tucker Max is on the front.  He looks like a douche.  The book even says I’m going to hate it.  The word “reprehensible” is on the cover.  Where do I sign up?

Officially, I blame my older brother for making me into the type of woman who loves this book.  Years of farting and crude jokes have desensitized me to the extent of laughing at the drunken misadventures and random sexcapades of this jerk Tucker Max.  A jerk who happens to be hilariously funny and a damned good writer to boot.  I’ll admit, at one point, I was a little pissed by his attitude towards women, but then when I read about his hotel pooping incident in which he managed to crap in his own hair and receive a lifetime ban from Embassy Suites, I figured karma had worked enough magic that I didn’t have to hold a grudge and I could just laugh at the guy.

Honestly, the book is a great read, highly entertaining, but I wonder how many women have read it… and liked it.

Courage to Click.

I’ve been thinking about this process, the querying process.  I realize that many writers find this task utterly daunting because of the many (and basically guaranteed) opportunities for “rejection”.  Yes, rejection in quotes.

I decided to look at the query as a kind of reverse interview.  Let’s say you are a manager at a restaurant for example.  You post a sign in the window or a link on the website: “Now Hiring”.  People come to you, applications filled out, requesting interviews.  You grant them.  You talk to several people, assessing their qualities, gauging whether or not they can be an asset to your company, your team.  If yes, then you hire, if not, then you don’t.  Rather simple.  Not personal.  You hire the person you think will be the best fit, not because you didn’t like the others, but they weren’t exactly what you are looking for in an employee.

In the query process, the writer with the manuscript is the manager with the opening, not the hopeful person looking for a job.  The query is the author’s “Now Hiring” sign.  Granted, the author has to send out individual queries, which is about the equivalent of the manager going door to door with a job description, asking potential employees one by one if they would like the job.  When the person you query says no, it isn’t a rejection.  It is an employee saying, “I’m not right for this job.”  It is an agent looking at the job description, and telling you they are not the right fit.

The goal is not just to find an agent/publisher/employee, but the right one, the one that fits.  If you’ve done the work as a writer, you’ve got an opening for a job that’s solid, a job that someone out there wants.  And once someone wants it, you still are the one who decides whether or not to hire.

Thinking about the process this way is what gives me the courage to close my eyes and click “send”.  If an agent doesn’t want the job, it is not personal.  It’s not about the job, it’s about the fit.