Wednesday, November 18, 2015

In Which America is Addressed

Open letter to America the Brave:
Ye gods I'm tired. I'm tired of people arguing about one group of people being more important than others. Of "our own" vs. "them." Are you a being? Yes? Okay, then you're one of mine.
Human being comes before nation, religion, race, creed, gender, sexual orientation, political leanings, musical taste, or which side of the stadium you cheer from on game day. Erase the arbitrary and the abstract and you have human beings in need of help. And here we are, able to give it. Why wouldn't we? Because some people from that country might want to kill some of our citizens? There are people already here, who were born here, who want the same.
If the problem is that you don't believe there isn't enough to go around, please consider that the U.S. discards an enormous amount of the food it produces; that it spends hundreds of times on "defense" as what would be required to give every person within its borders (homeless, veteran, professor, doctor, or retail wizard) a living wage, provide housing, education and healthcare; that religious freedom goes for everyone, not just the people who agree with you. There's enough for 360 million people to help out ten, twenty or fifty thousand and then some.
Now, if the problem is really xenophobia, might I suggest you consider that the U.S. is country made of immigrants (some by choice, some not), refugees and indigenous people who were forced into becoming refugees in their own homeland. There was never a time the American flag flew that it wasn't. There was never a time that people didn't complain about the neighbor being from another country/race/religion.
Please, please, stop letting things (especially a few outraged voices in the media spreading their hysteria) divide us. It is not likely to personally affect you besides maybe another person you see at Wal-mart. All right?
Stop letting fear keep you from looking into the eyes in a face in need. You'll only see yourself looking back.

In Which I Discuss My Untreated Depression

During these episodes, symptoms occur most of the day, nearly every day and may include:
  • Feelings of sadness, emptiness or unhappiness. Check.  That's constant.  It's just... dude, what is there in the world that could satisfy the holes in my heart?  Really?  Everything changes, shifts, slides out of reach.  There is nothing fulfilling on this planet.  I really would like to shift planes, please.
  • Angry outbursts, irritability or frustration, even over small matters. I do get frustrated now, sadly often, and I say things like, "I used to be so patient and kind..."  I've just had enough.
  • Loss of interest or pleasure in normal activities, such as sex.  When I can't even summon the energy to reach for the game controller to turn on the Xbox, that's pretty bad.
  • Sleep disturbances, including insomnia or sleeping too much.  This comes and goes.  Most often it's just that I fall asleep suddenly.  Lately I've been wondering if it's a deeper part of my mind burning off stuff/fixing my energy/realigning things.  Yes, seriously.
  • Tiredness and lack of energy, so that even small tasks take extra effort.  Like getting out of bed to go to work, or taking a shower on a day off?  Or turning on a computer/TV/game system?  Mmm. Check.
  • Changes in appetite — often reduced appetite and weight loss, but increased cravings for food and weight gain in some people.  Check.
  • Anxiety, agitation or restlessness — for example, excessive worrying, pacing, hand-wringing or an inability to sit still.  Mental rather than physical, often getting wrapped up in my thoughts so completely I don't realize hours have gone by.
  • Slowed thinking, speaking or body movements.  Yeah. 
  • Feelings of worthlessness or guilt, fixating on past failures or blaming yourself for things that are not your responsibility.  Not so much that I'm worthless, but that nothing I could do could ever matter/make any difference.  So what's the use in anything?
  • Trouble thinking, concentrating, making decisions and remembering things.  My memory has really been depleted.
  • Frequent thoughts of death, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts or suicide.  I don't think I'd ever commit suicide but that's mostly because I don't think it actually solves anything.  It's a momentary respite.  You still come back anyway, and I'd rather be getting completely out of the physical morass forever.  I think about the life beyond the physical a lot, but there's no rush in getting there.
  • Unexplained physical problems, such as back pain or headaches. Dread and nausea.  Lots of that.
Hahaha episodes?  Episodes end.  This is always.

Two young acquaintances of mine killed themselves in the last few months and I just heard of another young man who I did not know personally.  I have no doubt they are in a soothing, loving place now, and yes, I even envy them a bit.  But that part is inevitable.  I know I have things I'm supposed to be doing here.

And that "supposed to be" feeling is the hardest part about living here.  I don't know what to do. I don't know how to live.  I know I need to get away from the job that is making me nauseous daily before I go there.  I'm getting nauseous thinking about it right now.

People talk about having passion and to follow it, and I don't feel like I have passion for anything.  I have things that I do, things that feel like an engrained part of me.  I write.  I draw, I surround myself with crystals, I burn lots of incense, I wish madly that I was a sorcerer dwelling in some sacred site where the ley lines of the planet converged and opened into other dimensions.  Writing is an escape.

I need a new kind of existence.  One that does not depend on being a mechanical cog in a heirarchical machine.  I am a being whose lifeblood is joy and awe.  I am starving.

I know a bunch of people, if they read this, they would say, go see a doctor.  Get treated.  Get your brain chemicals in order.  No, sorry.  No thank you.  I'm trying to stay on the planet a little longer and not be done in by brain chemicals being thrown so completely out of wack that I forget that all this pain is an illusion.

I am actually better than I have been in a long time.  It's been a few months since I actually felt hopeless.  I do have some hope for something.  Self-reflection always makes me feel so much worse, and I think it's because it's a false self upon which I'm focusing.  This life doesn't matter.  This life of wake, work, and sleep, with the only respite being two days off that I spend too weary to do the things I've been looking forward to all week.  I can do without it in a moment.  

I'm afraid to.  I'm afraid of failing as an author, which is why I don't push harder for people to find out about my books.  I'm afraid of people.  I'm afraid of human beings.  I do not feel like one of them.  I know we're all the same underneath it all, regardless of our planet or plane of origin, but human beings are some of the most extraordinary and horrible beings I've ever imagined.  I'm afraid of them.  I'm afraid of having negativity directed toward me.  I'm afraid of no one understanding.  I'm afraid of having hope and being disappointed.  I'm afraid that the only thing I've ever done that I really feel proud of is wrapped up in my identity and if it is negatively viewed that it is an attack on me as well.  

It's all ridiculous for an infinite eternal being to be concerned about.  But I am, because I think I'm a person.  I think I'm one of the beings of which I am most afraid.  No one is as horrible to me as I am.  They couldn't be.  No one knows how to hurt me like I do.

And I have to forgive myself for being limited, for being so small in mind and consciousness, for wanting to cradle the universe's wonders in my skull, and going on through the rest of my life thirsting for starlight in my soul.  I have to forgive myself for believing I'm a person.  I have been trying very hard to be a convincing one for a very long time.

Eternal Being/One Infinite Creator, please help remind me of your light as I navigate this ridiculous planet.

In Which There Is Self-Talk and Book Ramblins

For me, writing is not particularly hard.

Overcoming the feeling of “nothing I could ever do could possibly matter,” that's the hard part.

I have been sitting on two nearly finished drafts (edits/polishing is all that's needed) for months. Books two and three of Rivermist are fermenting on this flash drive that overheats frighteningly fast in my netbook. And I need to come up with cover art for both of them. I have no idea what I want to do for the second book, but I think it would be good to have someone with their back toward the viewer, facing this white block (it's an attunement hub in the stories) where people come and lay their hands upon it and through it you can really do whatever you direct your mind to. Relive your memories, become attuned to the cosmos, tune yourself to the goddess/light/Laki, whathaveyou.

For book 3, I am thinking, since it covers two lifetimes, having the characters' faces split between current and past self, but that would get complicated and ruin plot points sooooo... maybe not. I think I see it in my mind though. Just have Caida/Salm in the middle and have Christopher with Caida and Zhetmar with Salm. Problem solved! Except it's really, really hard to draw people the way I want them to look. It really is. Sorry for all the self-talk.

Also, I am in the midst of this many year long existential crisis. Okay, it's probably a lifelong kind of thing, really, which means I should basically know how to cope by now. But really. I feel like I don't know how to do anything, which means I have to learn things and I'm not sure I'd be getting good information.

I'm thinking of running a visual promo. Instead of being all “HEY Y'ALL READ MY STUFF LOL HERE'S LINKS” making images with quotes. Starborn is rife with quotable quotes. Cynosure? Mmm... maybe the first line. But what image to put with that?

I am also trying to process all this stuff that's been coming out from Corey Goode regarding the Sphere Being Alliance and continually getting stunned by him verifying all this stuff that I've been thinking (and in some cases putting into stories--I need to write faster so I can get to the final book, otherwise disclosure will have already happened and my stuff will be obsolete) for years. I feel like I can accept it with ease, but at the same time, I'm kind of like damn it, I need this stuff to come out in the open because I cannot live in a world this small. I cannot live among human beings who are blatantly proud of being racist and selfish, where the boundaries of “self” so commonly begins and ends with a single individual.  I cannot live in a heirarchically based business model anymore and yet I have mad bills to pay and no idea how to really advertise without feeling incredibly slimy.

So please, humanity, open your hearts and eyes. Fear not. You are infinite.

And self, it's okay. Do what you can. You are loved, I promise. No matter how utterly alone in your mind you feel.