A co-worker said to me today that she didn't understand why other nations were excited about Obama's election. She didn't understand, either, why Oprah was 'hanging' on some random stranger during Obama's acceptance speech. She just didn't get it, didn't trust it. From my personal experience with her, I knew not to be surprised by her reaction. There was and is a significant absence of affection in her childhood and her present relationship. Now, I adore this woman. I think she is incredibly well spoken, articulate and criminally intelligent. However, this distrustful attitude is something I can't understand, not wholly.
You see, I come from a typical Southern family, which entails the stereotypes I'm sure some of you are thinking on, the good and the bad. My mother kissed me every night and told me she loved me every day. So did my father. So did my siblings. We do that still. There was never an absence of comfort in our home, well, for the children anyway. We went to church every Sunday and I still see my mother and sister every week and talk to them several times a week.
We're Southern. We hug strangers, we kiss our friends when we see them or when we leave them. We hug and cuddle and laugh too loud. It’s what we do. Generally, we don't meet a stranger.
I understand that this is not the way of things for everyone. I understand that some weren't fortunate enough to be raised in an affectionate home, that some still find, as adults, it difficult to receive or return affection. I'm not one of those people, so for me, I never found other nation's reactions to the election or Oprah's affectionate nature suspect. (She is, after all, Southern raised. ;P)
I took it for what it was: an excitement bubbling across the globe. It was the air of hope funneling over oceans and dipping into the collective consciousness of people in other nations. People who speak with different languages, whose faces reflect their national ethnicity and whose Gods may not be mine, were infected by the wind of change; the possibility of a positive, hopeful future.
Oprah leaned on her fellow man, because she was affected by this same wind; because she was overcome by the emotion of the night, by the victory of hope. I've experienced that. I've been at church or at a game and my team has won, my spirit has been elevated by happiness and as a result, I embraced strangers, laughed with others whose names I did not know, whose faces are blurred in my memory.
There is no conspiracy to it. Other nations are happy because, I believe, they are rooting for us. They want to see America thrive. They want to see us grow and evolve. I don't think, as my co-worker suggested, that it is a conspiracy; that for some nations, the election of a new president means a lapse in security, means that we will walk over our own citizens in need to help those in other countries. I don't believe this conspiracy exists. I think it is all simply a result of the potential we all hope will come.
Just to think on:
“A human being is part of a whole, called by us the Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
“If we treated everyone we meet with the same affection we bestow upon our favorite cat, they, too, would purr.”
Friday, November 7, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Ye Ole political rant
Via Mrs. Gloria:
Sarah Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Hillary Clinton. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.
By Gloria Steinem
September 4, 2008
Here's the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that
even the anti-feminist right wing -- the folks with a headlock on the
Republican Party -- are trying to appease the gender gap with a
first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women -- and to many
men too -- who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted
violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm,
who first took the "white-male-only" sign off the White House, and to
Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny
to win 18 million votes.
But here is even better news: It won't work. This isn't the first time a
boss has picked an unqualified woman just because she agrees with him
and opposes everything most other women want and need. Feminism has
never been about getting a job for one woman. It's about making life
more fair for women everywhere. It's not about a piece of the existing
pie; there are too many of us for that. It's about baking a new pie.
Selecting Sarah Palin, who was touted all summer by Rush Limbaugh, is no
way to attract most women, including die-hard Clinton supporters. Palin
shares nothing but a chromosome with Clinton. Her down-home, divisive
and deceptive speech did nothing to cosmeticize a Republican convention
that has more than twice as many male delegates as female, a
presidential candidate who is owned and operated by the right wing and a
platform that opposes pretty much everything Clinton's candidacy stood
for -- and that Barack Obama's still does. To vote in protest for
McCain/Palin would be like saying, "Somebody stole my shoes, so I'll
amputate my legs."
This is not to beat up on Palin. I defend her right to be wrong, even on
issues that matter most to me. I regret that people say she can't do the
job because she has children in need of care, especially if they
wouldn't say the same about a father. I get no pleasure from imagining
her in the spotlight on national and foreign policy issues about which
she has zero background, with one month to learn to compete with Sen.
Joe Biden's 37 years' experience.
Palin has been honest about what she doesn't know. When asked last month
about the vice presidency, she said, "I still can't answer that question
until someone answers for me: What is it exactly that the VP does every
day?" When asked about Iraq, she said, "I haven't really focused much on
the war in Iraq."
She was elected governor largely because the incumbent was unpopular,and
she's won over Alaskans mostly by using unprecedented oil wealth to
give a $1,200 rebate to every resident. Now she is being praised by
McCain's campaign as a tax cutter, despite the fact that Alaska has no
state income or sales tax. Perhaps McCain has opposed affirmative action
for so long that he doesn't know it's about inviting more people to meet
standards, not lowering them. Or perhaps McCain is following the Bush
administration habit, as in the Justice Department, of putting a job
candidate's views on "God, guns and gays" ahead of competence. The
difference is that McCain is filling a job one 72-year-old heartbeat
away from the presidency.
So let's be clear: The culprit is John McCain. He may have chosen Palin
out of change-envy, or a belief that women can't tell the difference
between form and content, but the main motive was to please right-wing
ideologues; the same ones who nixed anyone who is now or ever has been a
supporter of reproductive freedom. If that were not the case, McCain
could have chosen a woman who knows what a vice president does and who
has thought about Iraq; someone like Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison or
Sen. Olympia Snowe of Maine. McCain could have taken a baby step away
from right-wing patriarchs who determine his actions, right down to
opposing the Violence Against Women Act.
Palin's value to those patriarchs is clear: She opposes just about every
issue that women support by a majority or plurality. She believes that
creationism should be taught in public schools but disbelieves global
warming; she opposes gun control but supports government control of
women's wombs; she opposes stem cell research but approves
"abstinence-only" programs, which increase unwanted births, sexually
transmitted diseases and abortions; she tried to use taxpayers' millions
for a state program to shoot wolves from the air but didn't spend enough
money to fix a state school system with the lowest high-school
graduation rate in the nation; she runs with a candidate who opposes the
Fair Pay Act but supports $500 million in subsidies for a natural gas
pipeline across Alaska; she supports drilling in the Arctic National
Wildlife Reserve, though even McCain has opted for the lesser evil of
offshore drilling. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.
I don't doubt her sincerity. As a lifetime member of the National Rifle
Assn., she doesn't just support killing animals from helicopters, she
does it herself. She doesn't just talk about increasing the use of
fossil fuels but puts a coal-burning power plant in her own small town.
She doesn't just echo McCain's pledge to criminalize abortion by
overturning Roe vs. Wade, she says that if one of her daughters were
impregnated by rape or incest, she should bear the child. She not only
opposes reproductive freedom as a human right but implies that it
dictates abortion, without saying that it also protects the right to
have a child.
So far, the major new McCain supporter that Palin has attracted is James
Dobson of Focus on the Family. Of course, for Dobson, "women are merely
waiting for their husbands to assume leadership," so he may be voting
for Palin's husband.
Being a hope-a-holic, however, I can see two long-term bipartisan gains
from this contest.
Republicans may learn they can't appeal to right-wing patriarchs and
most women at the same time. A loss in November could cause the centrist
majority of Republicans to take back their party, which was the first to
support the Equal Rights Amendment and should be the last to want to
invite government into the wombs of women.
And American women, who suffer more because of having two full-time jobs
than from any other single injustice, finally have support on a national
stage from male leaders who know that women can't be equal outside the
home until men are equal in it. Barack Obama and Joe Biden are
campaigning on their belief that men should be, can be and want to be at
home for their children.
This could be huge.
Gloria Steinem is an author, feminist organizer and co-founder of the
Women's Media Center. She supported Hillary Clinton and is now
supporting Barack Obama.
Sarah Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Hillary Clinton. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.
By Gloria Steinem
September 4, 2008
Here's the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that
even the anti-feminist right wing -- the folks with a headlock on the
Republican Party -- are trying to appease the gender gap with a
first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women -- and to many
men too -- who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted
violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm,
who first took the "white-male-only" sign off the White House, and to
Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny
to win 18 million votes.
But here is even better news: It won't work. This isn't the first time a
boss has picked an unqualified woman just because she agrees with him
and opposes everything most other women want and need. Feminism has
never been about getting a job for one woman. It's about making life
more fair for women everywhere. It's not about a piece of the existing
pie; there are too many of us for that. It's about baking a new pie.
Selecting Sarah Palin, who was touted all summer by Rush Limbaugh, is no
way to attract most women, including die-hard Clinton supporters. Palin
shares nothing but a chromosome with Clinton. Her down-home, divisive
and deceptive speech did nothing to cosmeticize a Republican convention
that has more than twice as many male delegates as female, a
presidential candidate who is owned and operated by the right wing and a
platform that opposes pretty much everything Clinton's candidacy stood
for -- and that Barack Obama's still does. To vote in protest for
McCain/Palin would be like saying, "Somebody stole my shoes, so I'll
amputate my legs."
This is not to beat up on Palin. I defend her right to be wrong, even on
issues that matter most to me. I regret that people say she can't do the
job because she has children in need of care, especially if they
wouldn't say the same about a father. I get no pleasure from imagining
her in the spotlight on national and foreign policy issues about which
she has zero background, with one month to learn to compete with Sen.
Joe Biden's 37 years' experience.
Palin has been honest about what she doesn't know. When asked last month
about the vice presidency, she said, "I still can't answer that question
until someone answers for me: What is it exactly that the VP does every
day?" When asked about Iraq, she said, "I haven't really focused much on
the war in Iraq."
She was elected governor largely because the incumbent was unpopular,and
she's won over Alaskans mostly by using unprecedented oil wealth to
give a $1,200 rebate to every resident. Now she is being praised by
McCain's campaign as a tax cutter, despite the fact that Alaska has no
state income or sales tax. Perhaps McCain has opposed affirmative action
for so long that he doesn't know it's about inviting more people to meet
standards, not lowering them. Or perhaps McCain is following the Bush
administration habit, as in the Justice Department, of putting a job
candidate's views on "God, guns and gays" ahead of competence. The
difference is that McCain is filling a job one 72-year-old heartbeat
away from the presidency.
So let's be clear: The culprit is John McCain. He may have chosen Palin
out of change-envy, or a belief that women can't tell the difference
between form and content, but the main motive was to please right-wing
ideologues; the same ones who nixed anyone who is now or ever has been a
supporter of reproductive freedom. If that were not the case, McCain
could have chosen a woman who knows what a vice president does and who
has thought about Iraq; someone like Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison or
Sen. Olympia Snowe of Maine. McCain could have taken a baby step away
from right-wing patriarchs who determine his actions, right down to
opposing the Violence Against Women Act.
Palin's value to those patriarchs is clear: She opposes just about every
issue that women support by a majority or plurality. She believes that
creationism should be taught in public schools but disbelieves global
warming; she opposes gun control but supports government control of
women's wombs; she opposes stem cell research but approves
"abstinence-only" programs, which increase unwanted births, sexually
transmitted diseases and abortions; she tried to use taxpayers' millions
for a state program to shoot wolves from the air but didn't spend enough
money to fix a state school system with the lowest high-school
graduation rate in the nation; she runs with a candidate who opposes the
Fair Pay Act but supports $500 million in subsidies for a natural gas
pipeline across Alaska; she supports drilling in the Arctic National
Wildlife Reserve, though even McCain has opted for the lesser evil of
offshore drilling. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.
I don't doubt her sincerity. As a lifetime member of the National Rifle
Assn., she doesn't just support killing animals from helicopters, she
does it herself. She doesn't just talk about increasing the use of
fossil fuels but puts a coal-burning power plant in her own small town.
She doesn't just echo McCain's pledge to criminalize abortion by
overturning Roe vs. Wade, she says that if one of her daughters were
impregnated by rape or incest, she should bear the child. She not only
opposes reproductive freedom as a human right but implies that it
dictates abortion, without saying that it also protects the right to
have a child.
So far, the major new McCain supporter that Palin has attracted is James
Dobson of Focus on the Family. Of course, for Dobson, "women are merely
waiting for their husbands to assume leadership," so he may be voting
for Palin's husband.
Being a hope-a-holic, however, I can see two long-term bipartisan gains
from this contest.
Republicans may learn they can't appeal to right-wing patriarchs and
most women at the same time. A loss in November could cause the centrist
majority of Republicans to take back their party, which was the first to
support the Equal Rights Amendment and should be the last to want to
invite government into the wombs of women.
And American women, who suffer more because of having two full-time jobs
than from any other single injustice, finally have support on a national
stage from male leaders who know that women can't be equal outside the
home until men are equal in it. Barack Obama and Joe Biden are
campaigning on their belief that men should be, can be and want to be at
home for their children.
This could be huge.
Gloria Steinem is an author, feminist organizer and co-founder of the
Women's Media Center. She supported Hillary Clinton and is now
supporting Barack Obama.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Milestone
On October 12, 2008 at 10:30 p.m. I finished the first draft of my novel.
Now, of course, begins the rewrites. Oy vey.
Now, of course, begins the rewrites. Oy vey.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Five months?
I am inherently lazy about updating this. Life gets in the way, such as it is.
So, big news: Bev, the writing mentor, has asked me to sit on a panel with her in October at the Louisiana Book Festival. Of course she was aware of my brilliance (read: she asked randomly) and wants me to discuss my vast writing experience (um: really, we're going to discuss writer's groups). I know something about that since Camp and I started ours about three years ago. I should say, Camp asked me once after writing class one day "don't you think we should keep the critiques going after the semester ends?" to which I agreed. End of the next class and he announces: "Tee and I are starting a writer's group" Yep, that's him.
Despite being bullied into it, I have immensely enjoyed the experience. We found ourselves, during that writing class, in a unique situation; we actually gave and received honest, helpful critiques. We wanted to continue that communication and three years later, here we are. The first half hour consists of us ribbing one another (I generally take the brunt of this little insults) and then we get down to business. I have heard many writers complain about the 'dangers' of writer's groups, because there are many bad opinions and suggestions eager to make their way out of ignorant mouths, but that has not been my personal experience. Maybe I'm just damn lucky. Maybe my evil glares threaten my fellow members and that particular look demands honesty. Who knows? We are fortunate to have each other and I don't even mind the ribbing. Much.
As to the panel, I am incredibly excited and alternatively sick to my stomach when I think about standing in front of total strangers and speaking, all eyes on me. I'm blushing just thinking of it. Ah well, my life motto is "this too shall pass," and that minute mantra has gotten me through some uncomfortable, awkward and stroke-inducing moments. I'm certain, this will pass. I don't think, however, that my projected fifty pound weight loss will be accomplished before October. Damn that genie and his 'your wish is my command' lies!
I should mention that since my last post, I have achieved the unforeseeable and, what I thought would never happen: I finished graduate school. I am officially a Master of Arts.
Still can't believe they bought my BS.
Wonders never cease.
Be well and never give up.
T e e
So, big news: Bev, the writing mentor, has asked me to sit on a panel with her in October at the Louisiana Book Festival. Of course she was aware of my brilliance (read: she asked randomly) and wants me to discuss my vast writing experience (um: really, we're going to discuss writer's groups). I know something about that since Camp and I started ours about three years ago. I should say, Camp asked me once after writing class one day "don't you think we should keep the critiques going after the semester ends?" to which I agreed. End of the next class and he announces: "Tee and I are starting a writer's group" Yep, that's him.
Despite being bullied into it, I have immensely enjoyed the experience. We found ourselves, during that writing class, in a unique situation; we actually gave and received honest, helpful critiques. We wanted to continue that communication and three years later, here we are. The first half hour consists of us ribbing one another (I generally take the brunt of this little insults) and then we get down to business. I have heard many writers complain about the 'dangers' of writer's groups, because there are many bad opinions and suggestions eager to make their way out of ignorant mouths, but that has not been my personal experience. Maybe I'm just damn lucky. Maybe my evil glares threaten my fellow members and that particular look demands honesty. Who knows? We are fortunate to have each other and I don't even mind the ribbing. Much.
As to the panel, I am incredibly excited and alternatively sick to my stomach when I think about standing in front of total strangers and speaking, all eyes on me. I'm blushing just thinking of it. Ah well, my life motto is "this too shall pass," and that minute mantra has gotten me through some uncomfortable, awkward and stroke-inducing moments. I'm certain, this will pass. I don't think, however, that my projected fifty pound weight loss will be accomplished before October. Damn that genie and his 'your wish is my command' lies!
I should mention that since my last post, I have achieved the unforeseeable and, what I thought would never happen: I finished graduate school. I am officially a Master of Arts.
Still can't believe they bought my BS.
Wonders never cease.
Be well and never give up.
T e e
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Where have you BEEN?
I have found myself gainfully employed. Go figure, the one job I wanted— because it was editing and was at a company that could care less about my nose ring, not to mention the frequent paintball wars amongst the cubicles— is the job I secured. I was certain that I hadn’t landed it due to the fact that I had to reschedule my first interview because of the wicked cough, cough, hack, hack of a sinus infection and the fact that I was 15 minutes late to the second interview because I couldn’t find the building! I was shocked beyond measure when my boss called two weeks later and asked me to come in so he could offer me the position.
It is about 10k more than I expected, salaried, full benefits, 401k, etc, etc…and I work with some really sweet girls and a whole load of geeky engineer-types. I’ve also been promised a salary increase after three months, so that will certainly be nice. I’ve just completed my first week and it went pretty well. *touches wood* I’m still training, still working out the kinks, so to speak, but it isn’t as though the work is entirely difficult. There are loads of editing to do, ‘ensure, not insure; then or than,’ that sort of thing, so I’m happy to use my brain at work for once.
I cannot tell you how utterly wonderful it feels to get a check again, to be able to buy my kids and my dear husband things they need/want with my own money; money I earned editing…actually using my degree. That, folks, is all I want…at the moment. No, I don’t believe that I’ll retire from this ickle company, but it’s a great jumping off point.
Other than that and working on my COMPs paper…YET AGAIN…much hasn’t gone on in Tee’s world. I did manage to get up to 267 pages on the novel but, unfortunately, I had to put it on the backburner so that I could concentrate on my COMPs paper. That is an entirely different, sorted tale in itself, dears.
I did, however, submit the prologue and part of the first chapter of my novel to writer’s group this week and got some really encouraging feedback. I also explained the dilemma I was having about crossing genres and about how the novel will be divided. I was, yet again, encouraged in that regard. The truth is, once COMPs are out of the way— regardless of the outcome— I intend to finish writing the story I want with a certain “damn the consequences” mentality. I’ll get the first draft wrapped and then think about genre and plot layout later. For now, I’m simply enjoying playing in the world I’ve created. It certainly demands less than my reality, most importantly, that a 5:30 wake up call is not needed in the least.
In the interim, I periodically satisfy my downtime with Mr. Fraser. Really, can you blame me?
Smooches,
Tee
It is about 10k more than I expected, salaried, full benefits, 401k, etc, etc…and I work with some really sweet girls and a whole load of geeky engineer-types. I’ve also been promised a salary increase after three months, so that will certainly be nice. I’ve just completed my first week and it went pretty well. *touches wood* I’m still training, still working out the kinks, so to speak, but it isn’t as though the work is entirely difficult. There are loads of editing to do, ‘ensure, not insure; then or than,’ that sort of thing, so I’m happy to use my brain at work for once.
I cannot tell you how utterly wonderful it feels to get a check again, to be able to buy my kids and my dear husband things they need/want with my own money; money I earned editing…actually using my degree. That, folks, is all I want…at the moment. No, I don’t believe that I’ll retire from this ickle company, but it’s a great jumping off point.
Other than that and working on my COMPs paper…YET AGAIN…much hasn’t gone on in Tee’s world. I did manage to get up to 267 pages on the novel but, unfortunately, I had to put it on the backburner so that I could concentrate on my COMPs paper. That is an entirely different, sorted tale in itself, dears.
I did, however, submit the prologue and part of the first chapter of my novel to writer’s group this week and got some really encouraging feedback. I also explained the dilemma I was having about crossing genres and about how the novel will be divided. I was, yet again, encouraged in that regard. The truth is, once COMPs are out of the way— regardless of the outcome— I intend to finish writing the story I want with a certain “damn the consequences” mentality. I’ll get the first draft wrapped and then think about genre and plot layout later. For now, I’m simply enjoying playing in the world I’ve created. It certainly demands less than my reality, most importantly, that a 5:30 wake up call is not needed in the least.
In the interim, I periodically satisfy my downtime with Mr. Fraser. Really, can you blame me?
Smooches,
Tee
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
To the vultures...
Because I've decided I'm sick of the media, sick to the morbid curiosity that surrounds us, that permits paps to stalk people, I'm sending the following to a few media outlets in hopes that Ledger's death won't be turned into the circus that Anna Nicole's was. I invite you to join me, to encourage these outlets to finally show some class. Not holding my breath, but you lot know I'm an optimist.
Sending to:
OK Magazine: tips@okmagazine.com
Or write: New York Office: 475 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Phone: 212 672 0800
Los Angeles office:
9250 Wilshire Boulevard
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
Phone: 310-860-1160
Chicago office:
205 N Michigan Ave
Chicago, IL 60601
Phone: 312-233-4446
US Magazine: it looks like you have to sign up to comment - here
In Touch: contactintouch@intouchweekly.com
Life & Style: editor@lifeandstylemag.com
People: editor@people.com
Source
We live in a world that has lost its collective conscience. There are intermittent expressions of sympathy, the comprehensive well of consideration when tragedy occurs, when the world is in mourning or when thousands are snatched away by the clutches of death. But on the whole, society has forgotten its purpose, its sense of compassion. It has been replaced by fixation, by the fetish of curiosity. In every era there has been a class system that turned the common man into a thief, striving for a small taste of infamy, a glance into a blessed life not granted to all. The Greeks had their Gods, the Elizabethans, their Virgin Queen and now we, the dregs of the morbidly curious, cling to the smallest bit of scandal, the deconstruction of a fairytale life. We have become vultures seeking decay, grave robbers sifting through the dirt and rot to consume what remains of a charmed life. It is time that we reevaluate our missing souls, that we recapture the generosity of the past, that we refuse the pariah-ruled industry of the media.
Our society is filled to the brim with hunkering, stealthy “photographers,” hungry for the most embarrassing, most incriminated picture of a fallen star, which he’ll sell to the highest bidder. At night, he will sleep without any semblance of guilt, without any thought of whose life he has destroyed in the process of filling his pocket.
We allow them to exist.
We encourage their stalking nature, approve of their guiltless actions, and perpetuate their necessity. We adore a starlet, praise her too-thin frame, demand a glimpse into her personal life, insinuate ourselves- as if it is somehow our right- into her life, desperate to know her every move, assuming her choices are her own, that her privacy is now public domain. In the same breath, we laugh at her poor decisions, ridicule her for her mistakes as though she should be perfect, as though we are, passing judgment, casting blame as if it is our God-given right. Her sins become public property, her death our personal business and when she is gone, when her young life has spun from Fairytale to chaos, finally landing in eternal loss, we forget that we once loved her, that we allowed her soul to be raped, her privacy obliterated.
Today a little girl lost her father. She will never remember his touch. She will never feel the joy of his pride as she journeys through life. He will never hold his grandchildren, never feel nostalgic for his little girl when she holds a degree in her hand. He will never kiss her cheek and grant his blessing as she leaves his side and stands next to her husband.
Rather than obsessing about this very private loss, take a stand, be original and refuse to invade in this family’s sorrow. Turn down pictures of the corpse; ignore images of the weeping mother, the stunned former lover. Leave them to absorb the sinking hole of this loss, let them mourn in peace. Take a small step toward the restoration of the collective conscience, help reinstate the absent sympathy of the human condition.
Sending to:
OK Magazine: tips@okmagazine.com
Or write: New York Office: 475 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Phone: 212 672 0800
Los Angeles office:
9250 Wilshire Boulevard
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
Phone: 310-860-1160
Chicago office:
205 N Michigan Ave
Chicago, IL 60601
Phone: 312-233-4446
US Magazine: it looks like you have to sign up to comment - here
In Touch: contactintouch@intouchweekly.com
Life & Style: editor@lifeandstylemag.com
People: editor@people.com
Source
We live in a world that has lost its collective conscience. There are intermittent expressions of sympathy, the comprehensive well of consideration when tragedy occurs, when the world is in mourning or when thousands are snatched away by the clutches of death. But on the whole, society has forgotten its purpose, its sense of compassion. It has been replaced by fixation, by the fetish of curiosity. In every era there has been a class system that turned the common man into a thief, striving for a small taste of infamy, a glance into a blessed life not granted to all. The Greeks had their Gods, the Elizabethans, their Virgin Queen and now we, the dregs of the morbidly curious, cling to the smallest bit of scandal, the deconstruction of a fairytale life. We have become vultures seeking decay, grave robbers sifting through the dirt and rot to consume what remains of a charmed life. It is time that we reevaluate our missing souls, that we recapture the generosity of the past, that we refuse the pariah-ruled industry of the media.
Our society is filled to the brim with hunkering, stealthy “photographers,” hungry for the most embarrassing, most incriminated picture of a fallen star, which he’ll sell to the highest bidder. At night, he will sleep without any semblance of guilt, without any thought of whose life he has destroyed in the process of filling his pocket.
We allow them to exist.
We encourage their stalking nature, approve of their guiltless actions, and perpetuate their necessity. We adore a starlet, praise her too-thin frame, demand a glimpse into her personal life, insinuate ourselves- as if it is somehow our right- into her life, desperate to know her every move, assuming her choices are her own, that her privacy is now public domain. In the same breath, we laugh at her poor decisions, ridicule her for her mistakes as though she should be perfect, as though we are, passing judgment, casting blame as if it is our God-given right. Her sins become public property, her death our personal business and when she is gone, when her young life has spun from Fairytale to chaos, finally landing in eternal loss, we forget that we once loved her, that we allowed her soul to be raped, her privacy obliterated.
Today a little girl lost her father. She will never remember his touch. She will never feel the joy of his pride as she journeys through life. He will never hold his grandchildren, never feel nostalgic for his little girl when she holds a degree in her hand. He will never kiss her cheek and grant his blessing as she leaves his side and stands next to her husband.
Rather than obsessing about this very private loss, take a stand, be original and refuse to invade in this family’s sorrow. Turn down pictures of the corpse; ignore images of the weeping mother, the stunned former lover. Leave them to absorb the sinking hole of this loss, let them mourn in peace. Take a small step toward the restoration of the collective conscience, help reinstate the absent sympathy of the human condition.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Trouble with Opinions...
I've been writing for a while now. It is something that has been my fall back-to hobby since I was a kid. Over the years when I realized it wasn't quite logical to pursue an acting career in my home state (not unless you were related to a campaigning politician) and when my fleeting aspirations of being a *snort* model, (don't laugh, I was 15), were indeed fleeting because I was about four inches too short for it; it was writing that I clung to, that drew me up and away from the realities of my life.
For ten years now those on again, off again, jaunts from writing to 'the next new hobby' stopped completely. I was an undergraduate then and took my first creative writing class with Tim Gautreaux. Where I'm from, that's a big deal, having been taught by Gautreaux, and though I'll never be in his league and though my personal preference of genre isn't in the same stratospheres as his, I learned so much from the man. I was/am honored to have been taught by one of the best. Most of what I learned from him I probably could have picked up along the way. After all, research is a lovely, wondrous thing, but his advice has been priceless and the experience I garnered in his classroom is something I carry with me always. (God knows he put me off of adverbs for life).
Since that time, I took more CW classes and have been blessed, through one of those classes, to become involved in a wonderful group of writers that are blatantly critical and immensely helpful with the writing process. These bints and blokes are like family for me and they open my eyes to things that aren't obvious while writing my first draft. I adore them. I respect them.
I don't however, always agree with them.
You see, writer's groups are a funny business altogether. You have to be wary, careful not to involve yourself with people who haven't a flying fig's notion of what writing is or how a story should be structured. Lucky for me, that is certainly not the case with my group. One must also take into consideration that all writers...and I mean all...are a egotistical, jealous lot. I include myself in that distinction. We get insanely green when we read something that we just 'know' we could have written. We get snooty, at times, when we read things that are not quite up to our 'standards.' Its a sad reality, but it is indeed fact. You see, every writer wants to be the best writer. Every writer wants their story to be the most beloved, the most enjoyable, the most popular. Therefore if our own work isn't up to par, then we brood and (if it is a good writer who takes these things for what they are and are not petty about it) we try our best to improve. At least, that has been my experience.
I am in no way the best at what I write. I'm constantly being taught more with everything I read or write. I'm in constant search for a better way to express what I see in my imagination; for dialog that is funny or meaningful, for a plot that is intricate and crafty. I don't always manage it, but I try to come close and every day brings a new realization, every paragraph creates a new dimension of my ability. It is silly and trite, but it has been my experience that the more you write, truly, the better you become.
Improvement is usually where my writer's group comes into play. I'm sure I depend upon them far too often for critique, but I'm getting better at it, becoming more confident in my own ideas and opinions. The problem really lies in myself and in the decisions I make that cross over into my work. Do I start from scratch because a huge plot whole was pointed out to me? Do I throw up my hands and give up my dream because my character isn't flawed enough or because my 'hero' is far too handsome to be realistic? No. That's not me. That's not how I tick. I fix those things and go forward. I take all opinions into consideration and I weigh them against what has been suggested and what I'm trying to accomplish.
It is all a learning process. Gautreaux told us once never to use 'ancient' in a description unless we're talking about an Egyptian relic of some sort. Two weeks later we were reading one of his stories and wonder of wonders 'ancient' was mentioned in his description. When I asked him about it he said, 'well, I was an idiot.' Obviously, he wasn't, but he had written that piece when he was younger, when he knew less. The knowledge that we garner from experience, from time and even from the opinions of others, directly affects our actions, behaviors and yes, even our abilities as time moves forward. We live. We learn, etc.
So your writer's group may not know everything. Their opinions may differ greatly from yours, but if you listen, if you absorb then you can grow. If not, you're stagnate, and obviously growth is impossible in a stagnate state. (Unless, I think, if we're talking about fungi which is just really icky).
"He who increases knowledge, increases sorrow." That doesn't mean that the more knowledge you acquire, the more you open yourself up to sad realizations. It only means that the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know everything. Still, the point is that you have to learn to evolve. You have to experience to improve.
For ten years now those on again, off again, jaunts from writing to 'the next new hobby' stopped completely. I was an undergraduate then and took my first creative writing class with Tim Gautreaux. Where I'm from, that's a big deal, having been taught by Gautreaux, and though I'll never be in his league and though my personal preference of genre isn't in the same stratospheres as his, I learned so much from the man. I was/am honored to have been taught by one of the best. Most of what I learned from him I probably could have picked up along the way. After all, research is a lovely, wondrous thing, but his advice has been priceless and the experience I garnered in his classroom is something I carry with me always. (God knows he put me off of adverbs for life).
Since that time, I took more CW classes and have been blessed, through one of those classes, to become involved in a wonderful group of writers that are blatantly critical and immensely helpful with the writing process. These bints and blokes are like family for me and they open my eyes to things that aren't obvious while writing my first draft. I adore them. I respect them.
I don't however, always agree with them.
You see, writer's groups are a funny business altogether. You have to be wary, careful not to involve yourself with people who haven't a flying fig's notion of what writing is or how a story should be structured. Lucky for me, that is certainly not the case with my group. One must also take into consideration that all writers...and I mean all...are a egotistical, jealous lot. I include myself in that distinction. We get insanely green when we read something that we just 'know' we could have written. We get snooty, at times, when we read things that are not quite up to our 'standards.' Its a sad reality, but it is indeed fact. You see, every writer wants to be the best writer. Every writer wants their story to be the most beloved, the most enjoyable, the most popular. Therefore if our own work isn't up to par, then we brood and (if it is a good writer who takes these things for what they are and are not petty about it) we try our best to improve. At least, that has been my experience.
I am in no way the best at what I write. I'm constantly being taught more with everything I read or write. I'm in constant search for a better way to express what I see in my imagination; for dialog that is funny or meaningful, for a plot that is intricate and crafty. I don't always manage it, but I try to come close and every day brings a new realization, every paragraph creates a new dimension of my ability. It is silly and trite, but it has been my experience that the more you write, truly, the better you become.
Improvement is usually where my writer's group comes into play. I'm sure I depend upon them far too often for critique, but I'm getting better at it, becoming more confident in my own ideas and opinions. The problem really lies in myself and in the decisions I make that cross over into my work. Do I start from scratch because a huge plot whole was pointed out to me? Do I throw up my hands and give up my dream because my character isn't flawed enough or because my 'hero' is far too handsome to be realistic? No. That's not me. That's not how I tick. I fix those things and go forward. I take all opinions into consideration and I weigh them against what has been suggested and what I'm trying to accomplish.
It is all a learning process. Gautreaux told us once never to use 'ancient' in a description unless we're talking about an Egyptian relic of some sort. Two weeks later we were reading one of his stories and wonder of wonders 'ancient' was mentioned in his description. When I asked him about it he said, 'well, I was an idiot.' Obviously, he wasn't, but he had written that piece when he was younger, when he knew less. The knowledge that we garner from experience, from time and even from the opinions of others, directly affects our actions, behaviors and yes, even our abilities as time moves forward. We live. We learn, etc.
So your writer's group may not know everything. Their opinions may differ greatly from yours, but if you listen, if you absorb then you can grow. If not, you're stagnate, and obviously growth is impossible in a stagnate state. (Unless, I think, if we're talking about fungi which is just really icky).
"He who increases knowledge, increases sorrow." That doesn't mean that the more knowledge you acquire, the more you open yourself up to sad realizations. It only means that the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know everything. Still, the point is that you have to learn to evolve. You have to experience to improve.
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