Supplies: the complex thing about Mikey

Women taking a course in car care, maintenance, and operation in Tallahassee, Florida
from Florida Memory Flickr Commons Archive

The complicated thing about Mikey is that I did have sounding boards who kept warning me to get out. But they were other types of crazymakers, other types of blockers. They wanted this predator cleared so they could get a better crack at me.

Mikey did make it clear to me exactly how bad the women I called my “best friend” for years was actually for me – how bad her intents towards me almost always were. She liked the idea of Mikey and me together. She thought his calling me at 6 am when he knew I needed the sleep was romantic, not the abusive that it actually was. She figured I would eventually relent to his constant demands I take care of him.

There were others, of course, but most just sort of rolled their eyes. They didn’t recognize what was going on. One girl who had a thing for Mikey was relentlessly jealous of me – I can only imagine how bad he would have messed her life up if I hadn’t presented a distraction. While I have no liking for her as a human being, she is a human being and deserved to be treated as one. That’s not how this  guy would have treated her.

My sudden onset illness, as frustrating as it can be, probably saved me from what would have been one of the most abusive relationship of my life and also ended a female friendship that I have only come to recognize as abusive.  The constant hiving and allergies forced me to be reclusive.

It’s normal to have these patterns when you come from a dysfunctional home. You have to recognize dysfunction at home before the rest of the alphabet falls into place and you get the correct read on things. It took me awhile to see the source of it. Now I see all of it.

Now I have friends who would spot that kind of madness and tell me so right quick.


Supplies: the Creative Desert

Orange mallow, showy desert flower, 05/1972.
from US National Archives Flickr Commons Collection

The creative desert is that uncharted territory. It’s the idea that just might work that people think are absurd. I’ve spent most of my life there, long enough to see rather a lot of vindication.

In high school, I went through a phase where I wrote letters to the editor all the time. Most of them were published – to the annoyance of adults who wanted that space for their own sounding board. In one of them, focused on the environment, I proposed that we mine landfills for recyclable material. At the time, landfill mining was unheard of.

My uncle read some of these missives of mine and had an absolute fucking fit. The landfill mining really sent him over the edge – it was just “absurd.” It’s far from the only thing he’s disagreed with me on where time has taken my side. Really, most of his attitude just had to do with me being female and his least favorite sibling’s least favorite daughter. I have to wonder, if one of his children had proposed it, if he would have taken offense to it the way he did with me.

Of course, now we have landfill mining.

Around 2003, the mass transit system in the Twin Cities was under heavy discussion. There was talk of building yet another highway that looped around the Cities. Thankfully people decided to move towards building mass transit inside the cities instead, helping to reduce car ownership and thus not just pollution but cost of living for city residents as they can. (It’s still necessary to own a car because of winter around here. However, using a car less is still pretty good.) I had posted on the Star Tribune suggesting they look into the old trolley system – there are still tracks and cars languishing in a corner of Dinkytown. Someone immediately posted a tirade about “pipe dreams” and “craziness” directed at me for daring repropose it.

Yet two years later the city had a feasibility study.

Last year, the mayoral election had installing a street car line down Central Ave. as one of its major platforms.

As I paraphrased before, new looks like crazy to dumb people. There are a lot of people who have tried to make me out to be completely nuts when not only am I quite sane, I’ve got a good sense for solutions.

Supplies: My True North

GOODS Chandra Deep Field-North: The Secret Lives Of Galaxies Unveiled In Deep Survey
from Smithsonian Institute’s Flickr Commons Page

True North is difficult for me because I made a conscious choice to operate without a navigation system when I was about 19. Before then, I was under a great deal of pressure to “plan my life.” My parents informed me I needed to pick a major, stick with it, stay at the same college if I could, should take no breaks from school ever … you get the idea.

My parents were setting me up to fail. They were using their map, one that went obsolete in 1969. When I pointed out that they had an obsolete map I got a lot of abuse and denial heaped on me. It was my mother’s “advice” that got me to pick the wrong school in the first place. She thought I’d “be able to study there, with few distractions.” Looking back I realize that she was insulting my work ethic and slut shaming me simultaneously. This conception of me was so outer-space and inaccurate that it took me years to process that that’s what she was doing.

Throwing away the navigation system completely was the only way to banish her influence.

My life – my happiness – improved almost immediately. The only true north my mother wanted me to have was her.

That’s not true north. That’s letting a narcissist ruin and run my life.

I knew for sure that leaving my family made my life better. It wasn’t total direction, but it was a start. Without the map, I still worked plenty hard. I still wound up on the dean’s list every semester. I still found a job even in economies with no jobs available.

But making that choice to abandon the map has had its problems. In graduate school I was hopelessly out of the loop on most of the reading. I had done undergrad in journalism. The MFA in writing was lit focused and most of my class had voraciously read all that stuff that just kind of bored me. I’ve missed so many opportunities as a writer I try not to think of them. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I’d just stuck out that Wal-mart job or applied for that program in Dubai my life would now have a grander, more interesting dimension to it.

The other part of this is that in writing, your True North shifts. I have already been published. I will have three books out by 2015. So what next? Those were my major, elusive goals.

Perhaps I’ll try writing fiction, going down the tougher road of getting that published.  Mostly I want to gather up my wounds and get them healed and then look for direction from there.

All I know for sure is that I want to live a life I truly enjoy.



Supplies: 20 “in a perfect world” statements

Duplex Corset 1/3 ca. 1885
Library Company of Philadelphia Flickr Commons Collection

In a perfect world, I would

1. live somewhere warm

2. travel freely and often

3. dance a lot more

4. be able to see friends often

5. have the perfect social/home life balance

6. be able to write without back pain

7. never miss gym time ever.

8. find a yoga class that is not one of those obnoxious “flow” classes

9. get my herbal certification

10. maybe finish grad school (?) feeling a little weak on that one.

11. go on a writer’s retreat at least once a year

12. have Tae Kwon Do/Aikido training

13. have a housekeeper I trusted to clean my bathrooms

14. live in a place where I could safely walk everywhere

15. live near a major airport

16. find a spiritual group that I work well with (coming to terms with of all things a possible Celtic-inspired role/explanation for myself)

17. be able to see the beach/ocean daily

18. wear pretty, comfortable clothing

19. publish some fiction

20. be cured of my allergies

… I have a pretty damn good life already. It’s just the internal noise I’m trying to correct.


Supplies: the Goodies

Goody Two Shoes; J. C. Williamson's gorgeous annual pantomime. 1919.
National LIbrary of New Zealand Flickr Commons Collection

I could get attached to…          Because                                                                                             How I could get that feeling myself

1. Travel                                         I want to see everything                                                              it’s travel. Travel is my favorite thing, right next to dancing and writing.
2. Attention                                 Yay, people are finally noticing me!                                       Write a list of my real friends and how we met. Most sought me out.
I must be moderately important!

3. Praise                                         I felt starved for it when I was younger.                               Look at my box of letters from true friends.

4.Money                                        It expands my choices.                                                                 Continue to find frugal/free things to do. I have a rich life that way.

5. The in-crowd feel                 I too have childhood nerd hangups                                          Look to my values. The in-crowd isn’t among them.


Supplies: the Chorus of Woes: the most ridiculous complaint I’ve heard

Exercising on the Beach
National Media Museum Flickr Commons Collection

What Cameron speaks of here is not the real Greek Chorus coming out to warn the hero (like the hero can even see them, anyway) but the one that we conjure in our heads … sometimes just to have something to complain about.

So, going through the questions – there’s one guy I’m picking on because he does so very much of this crap, and it’s all crap. When you tell him it’s crap and self-created he tends to throw temper tantrums. But gods help you if you try to talk about anything else but him. It’s enough that I avoid events with him at it now unless I am surrounded by people that will help me ignore him.

Most ridiculous complaint:

“Everybody knows who I am everywhere I go!”

Really? The grocery store? The post office? … .wait, aren’t you going to like, the exact same three to five places over and over. That’s not the price of fame. That’s being a regular and lacking imagination.

He’s actually a host of other similar ridiculous complaints/humble brags. I dare not get more specific than that.


Supplies: My Positive Role Model

Queen Rumania  (LOC)
from Library of Congress Flickr Commons Collection

Actually, I have so many positive role models it’s hard to pick one.

Right now I”m thinking of Dawn. Dawn decided what she wanted to do and did it. She has told me she has a no-drama policy. If someone is too prone to madness she drops them or just refuses to engage. She is surrounded by really great friendships and she is a great cheerleader to her friends and their creative projects. She’s an example of doing life and career right – with sincerity, based on real relationships rather than on relationships-for-a-reason.

So far, it’s worked quite well. I often refer to her as a fairy godmother. Don Fairy Godmother.


Supplies: My Negative Role Model

Gunmen going to Sing Sing  (LOC)
From Library of Congress Flickr Commons collection

Oh boy do I have a negative role model. Actually, I have at least three, possibly more. I’m going to hybrid them and pick things I’ve seen or heard from all of them. It’s like an archetypal negative role model. I should add that to my tarot deck – or maybe that’s what the Devil card really represents.

What bothers me specifically about the collective behavior is that it’s delusional, narcissistic … and really unimaginative. It’s the person that got upset that Mark Wahlberg went from Marky Mark to a successful career as an actor/film producer.

“So what, he can only do one thing?”


Well, that’s bullshit. 

I am a more-than-one-thing artist and I reject this message.


There are the name droppers. “Oh I met this famous person whose name you don’t know and he just adored my painting/book/personal style. You really should go meet that person and see what it might do for me – I mean, uh, you.”

… or I could focus on sincere relationships with supportive people and not take into account their connections or fame unless I am encouraging them to use those for themselves in some manner. When it counted, my real friends helped me in the ways that mattered. My name dropped from a celebrity’s lips means jack especially since most people will remember the celebrity and not what the celebrity says unless locked in a good hate-on fever.


There are the “suffering artist” stereotypers, and that one stretches far and wide. Most recently a well-meaning friend posted some biased, very poorly researched Thought Catalog drek to my Facebook wall that encouraged the idea that all artists – especially writers – have something wrong with their brains that turns them into depressed crazy people, the implication being that maybe if we didn’t right we wouldn’t go crazy.

The article enraged me on multiple levels. First, Thought Catalog is a cess pool of confirmation biased base shit. I followed it for awhile just to see what it had to offer  and it is one of the great shames of the Internet. Essentially it’s people who are great at expository writing and terrible at critical thinking. Second, anytime you imply an entire population is x/has x without evidence based research to support it (and this had none) then you are currying bigotry for some purpose. Third, it stigmatizes depression. Fourth, the article stigmatizes creativity. Fifth, it seems to fail to connect that when depressed people are in their extreme low points they aren’t creating. Creation – art therapy and upward – is the neural activity that gets people out of depressive loops. It’s not 100% but it’s a factor. To assume a writer is automatically depressed or will get depressed because s/he writes is just offensive.  Depression and creativity are both complex. But creativity is NOT  disease, is not psychological smoking that will lead to a disease and in most cases probably does not exacerbate a disease.

Writing does not do bad things to my organs, least of all my brain.


There’s the whole special snowflake shit. Oh the writing life is so difficult. Oh, all good writing and creation comes from a certain self loathing. Comedy comes from self loathing. Oh, you can’t be healthy or seek healing and still create.

Every day of my life informs me that this above line of poison is absolute screaming bullshit. The times in life that I suffer are the times in life that I’m not writing. When I’m writing I’m getting progressively better and working on my issues has made me a better, more empathetic human being and writer. I can also be funny as hell – and it’s not centered in self-hatred. The self-hatred schtick? Blech. Boring and predictable.

We are not special snowflakes. Originality isn’t worth thinking about – enjoyment is what really makes a difference.  Writing really is like dating: nothing good is going to happen unless you find a way to have fun with it. The acclaim/flattery/critical praise is for people that would rather read reviews than go on to the next project.

In a way, my writing career does have something in common with my corporate career: in corporations I hated, I always stepped away from office politics and reminded myself I was here to do my own time. Writing is my calling – so rather than doing my time, when I’m dealing with attention-seeking colleagues, it’s really about having my time. That means not giving it to them by not indulging the rhetoric of the special snowflake.



Supplies: A Monologue of Tragic Attempts

Image taken from page 22 of 'Bateman's Tragedy: or, the Perjur'd Bride justly rewarded. Being the history of the unfortunate love of German's wife and young Bateman. [A chap-book, in prose, with the original ballad, entitled “A Godly Warning to all Maiden
from British Library Flickr Commons collection

This exercise is “write a monologue” of the worst stories/excuses of people that have succeeded once and refuse to go out again. It may just be a loose collection of quotes.


Oh yes, I pitched that idea – and someone wrote the exact same book ten years later. My idea was stolen!  I could write, but I only like to write in restaurants and then the staff befriends me and I can never get anything done. You know how it is – you get something out there and then everything is so commercial. It really comes down to who you know and this person at this publisher just hates me. I’ve heard all these rumors about people at other publishers. After awhile, everybody wants your advice and they get pissy when you can’t take time out for each and every person. We watched performers before us and they used the exact same material we were going to! Oh, I want to write or make a TV show or whatever but there’s just nothing original to do anymore. Honestly, I could make it but people would just shit all over it anyway. It’s so hard to do anything worthwhile. Well, that takes so much money. I hate everything there is out there and it shouldn’t be my job to make something better. I met this other author and I just don’t want to turn into that guy. Well, yeah, I heard that project but I’ve never heard of that person – the research is great but we’re looking for a name. I have to take a day job so I guess that means I’m a failure.


I’m sure there’s so much more – often I block and dismiss because it’s easier than absorbing the grandiose stupidity.


Supplies: The Chorus of Woes: Real Gripes and Conversions

Theatre Royal chorus, Tamarama Beach, ca. 1938 / by Sam Hood
State Library of New South Wales – Flickr Commons Collection

The Gripes

This is a series of real gripes about my current writing projects.

I’m scared it won’t be good enough. I worry I won’t finish it on time. I am having to take Mabon way out of the Pagan religious sphere into mainstream associations and what if people get all butthurt and start wailing that it’s not Pagan enough? What if they complain that I am not Pagan enough? My publisher is a much different publisher than it used to be but way to many people have developed confirmation bias – if it’s good they’ll just ignore that it’s good and carry on as though it’s still that old publisher from the 90s. I keep running into physical issues while I’m trying to write and accomplish. It’s starting to frighten/worry me a little. What if nothing I do is enough, ever? What if my back goes out again when I’m trying to work? I try to tough it out but it is truly difficult to focus enough to write when your body has gone crazy on you. I’m also worried about balancing it against the book coming out this year. How do I do promotion for that when I am embroiled in a contract right now? How the hell do other writers manage this stuff?


1. I’m scared I won’t be good enough.

Conversion: Of course I’m good enough. They gave me the contract because I have demonstrated since 1999 that I am good enough for such a project.

2. I’m scared I won’t finish in time.

Conversion: You have expended the most effort on the heavy research part. The other stuff involves things you write all the time that come very naturally to you. You can do this. If you really are worried about being stuck, contact your editor. Remember, this time you do have a more formal editor who will likely be revising along with you.

3. What if people complain I am not Pagan enough?

Conversion: The people that complain of such things are not the arbiters of judgment that they wish to be. And a good thing, too, since that’s not a call any human being is qualified to make.

4. My publisher’s reputation …

Conversion: Has never once put them at risk of going out of business. Let them worry about it.

5. The physical issues …

Conversion: You have a therapist. Your insurance covers the best healthcare network in town. Your chiropractor/orthopedic physical therapy guy is fantastic. Keep hitting the gym, keep doing your stretches, keep taking your allergy shots and medicine. You will be fine.

6. Promoting Divorcing a Real Witch while writing other books …

Conversion: You already decided to just do a local tour. You may have to wait until later to do the workshops or put together the documentary. Because it’s a rare topic you have a lot of room to do cool things on the backlist. The world may think now! now! now! on books … but the books you buy new don’t always have copyrights from this decade. It’s one of those things that you have more time to do than you think.