A New Year Ahead

Remember when 'new year, new me' used to be the battle call of self-motivation? No longer! Now, it's become the hipster thing to often bitterly express the idea that you're about to get the same old assholes or that motivation doesn't start here for THIS wonder child! And the latter? Is exactly the same sentiment just with the one-upmanship of 'I'm already doing it, slackers!'

I get it. Popularity almost always brings out the purposeful rebels. The devil's advocate, despite the dark implication, isn't the bad thing to be when you're on a shaky fence and the grass is burnt on both sides... But let's not pretend that people who DO make New Year's Resolutions, whether they make good on them or not, are tacky or inferior.

I, myself, am often a Monday starter. During the week, I do the best I can but by the weekend, if I need to cheat on a diet or play hooky from writing, I always make the compromise that day one begins again on Monday. It's one of the reasons I don't hate Mondays. Mondays might be a self-imposed challenge but I'm truly motivated, not just to reflect on where the past week could have been improved in terms of habits, but also on re-focusing on what I want in the present and short-term future. It's not a time to beat myself up for failure on some ground.

It's a point of contention between my father and I, who often likes to dwell on a mistake, almost to the point of demotivating any reparations or compromise to move forward. Perhaps he thinks I don't care enough, but stoicism is how I survive. Being already hypersensitive past a precarious point in tense moments, I've learned that humbling myself to a mistake but focusing on the solution keeps me out of the dramatic hysterics zone.

While it's true that the appeal of Resolutions disappeared for me long ago, and namely because of the last paragraph's hard-won status of largely stoic responses, it's more because the time just comes. My start and finish lines aren't neatly marked and I'd be hard-pressed to remember how I'd gone from overdramatic to level headed more often. It wasn't ever a decision. In my youth, I never once thought to compromise the healthy display of emotions-- yet time showed me that it wasn't that healthy for me OR those I cared about, that I was rather adept at being the problem-solver when I carried the demeanor of someone who had some clue of what they were doing. Even revelations like that weren't ones neatly recorded in a diary because by the time I reflected on it, could name it, it was already in my arsenal.

Epiphanies, while instant, aren't resolutions either. The sudden thrill of discovery is, again, more about naming or forming an idea in a way that you can utilize it again or share it with others, the subconscience knocking on the conscience. While all epiphanies don't bear fruit, those moments are stars in the constellation of progress.

Resolutions are vilifed for one particular reason-- when we announce such lofty goals but don't follow through, it can become a spotlight for ridicule, those damned 'I told you so' and the smug population of other failures welcoming you back to the bottom of the tank.

As long as you don't get conned into that mental shithole, resolution yourself at leisure. While I don't announce it with such aplomb, I do use a new year as a time to take inventory, to ask myself if I want the same things or if I could be doing more (or less) to go after what I really want.

Don't be bullied out of your ways by pseudo or serial rebels. It's not really that cheesy. If you fall off the lofty tops of overambitious goals, don't give up. Change tact, make them more reasonable, push the deadline. Resolutions are guidelines. If they're really important to your well-being, enlist a great friend, your doctor, your cat-- whatever it takes, remember that your goals don't have to fall squarely on what you can do alone.

Have a Happy New Year! May it be a year of growth and empowerment!

A Dream Deferred

I still remember in first grade, that time of the year when we were asked to pick a famous figure to do a report on. This wasn't for Black History Month; just a regular requirement. There was the usual list of names to choose from, but this time, I saw a name on the list I'd never seen before and it was a name that called to me: Langston Hughes.

I'd never heard of the poet before, but at the age of seven, education was still focused just on learning how words were sounded out, not on the merits of literary greats. I wasn't even that concerned by the fact that no women made the list. Back then, there was no internet, and books were still lacking that were available to shine some light, more than a flimsy paragraph or two, on them.

It wasn't even a surprise that Langston Hughes was a black man. This soft-spoken boy raised by his grandmother was a great lover of escaping into books, a sentiment that married me to the project, if not the man, more. I didn't just look for the biography, I followed the work-- the famous, the obscure.

While it was clear that his life, the circumstances of birth, were an obstacle somehow, I saw a man that never minded them. Or rather, if he did, his circumstances didn't dull his desire to speak through thoughtfully chosen words. I've seen it in many people since-- Judge Judy Scheinlin, for one. When people speak about them in terms of their gender or race, they are quick to shut it down, to remind people even that it was a selfish desire to nurture their talent, that how they succeeded and consequently became role models was out of their hands.

Without knowing that Langston Hughes was a name engraved in my inspirational log, my nephew Marcus chose him for his own Black History Month project in first grade. I felt the welling of tears, the warm spread of a nostalgic grin, and the eagerness to revive anew what I'd learned and share it with my nephew.

History, literature, art-- it belongs to all of us. In the back of my mind, I wonder if my name will sneak in there. Yet, under it all, is just the spark of a little girl who wouldn't dare to give up a dream because anyone else believed the shoes were too big to fill.

I have big feet and bigger dreams and I intend to leave a few footprints behind.

Not a Binary, Myers-Briggs

But thanks for playing.

I'm not one of those people that tests all over the map. I've always landed in INFJ/INTJ. I've said before that introvert is my most recuperative stance but I'm undeniably a sort of ambivert that is outgoing or reserved without much reason beyond personal moods or situations.

Yet that 'I' is something a lot of artists cling to, if only for that archetype attached to it. It doesn't really fit a great deal of artists I know, the ones that paint in public at sidewalk art sales, the sort that absolutely bask in creation far from solitude. Even someone as 'I' as me doesn't lose all hope when interrupted by a visit from my nephews. I've learned how to write and talk and listen so as not to lock out the potential of shared moments I can't get back.

So, although Jung and Myers-Briggs efforts aren't wasted, I've also met those assignations with rightful skepticism. Like with astrology, I know it's a pseudoscience, not without use, but not one to cling to tightly when it comes to take personal growth (or destiny) into your own hands.

I don't really think Mercury in retrograde is really all that concerned with our actions. If anything, these tests are excuses that have none of the weight of even a menstrual cycle. Which I can say for certain, especially at the age of 37, absolutely affects my moods and ability to be around people. Even that is something I can see for what it is. I'm not always capable of stopping an impulsive outburst, but I'm versed in correcting and apologizing in the retrospect.

Perhaps I could say that the biology of a woman already makes a binary result impossible but impulsivity and moods are absolutely not the sole domain of women. Growth and change are necessary for all humans (unless your aspiration is to be a guest on a garbage talk show like Jerry Springer, where no one has mentally surpassed 12 and not through any valid mental disability-- just refusal to grow at all).

If you like to use these tests, maybe just to entertain yourself with facets you hadn't considered, it's not a bad idea. Just don't be so locked into being the 'Entertainer' or 'Mastermind' that you neglect to take risks and operate 'out of character'.

Out of character is for cookie cutter novels. In reality, there are many instances where a turning point can flip the switch on who we are. Trauma, actually being faced with those terrifying what-ifs and acting in earnest (not just how we think we will)---these are the things that don't fit neatly into astrology or personality tests. Most of us are not one of twelve neat binaries. Certainly, even those strictly developed characters aligning with them usually suffer from lack of dimension sometimes too.

Take the tests. Have fun with them. Measure yourself by entertaining means but don't adhere to anything at the expense of your unique growth. Just like you can choose to perpetuate victimhood, you can choose to break out of an archetype. Some facets you'll retreat to for comfort and that's okay to an extent. Just never stop trying to strive for what is good for you and those you care about. It's not going to be so neatly defined.

It's Not Really a New Year's Resolution, But...

I guess the next round qualifies, doesn't it? I work this last weekend of WinterFest before the UpShift list grows bleak for a while, at least for someone with my timeframe. I'd already planned to devote January to UnSung's 2019 release, as well as that dentist appointment falling smack dab on the first of the year. This will also be the same month I devote myself to sloughing off the winter weight, looking into a doctor who can help me uncover the mystery of why exercise usually means more muscle gain than weight loss for me.

So while it's not a proper resolution, it certainly falls under a timeframe liberated from the crunch of gift making and temp work, a time when I can get geared up for ComicCon and future goals.

I feel the near-sighted trepidation of a busy weekend and the healing of these ornery teeth. Yet in the middle of that, I'm looking forward to going to WinterFest with my family as guests and our sit-in New Year celebration involving wine (the delightfully non-alcoholic sparkling sort for the kiddies) and a slew of board games. So it's not all crunch time, just activities that will require energy I'll really have to reach for.

Yet I see it there, just past that-- the closing of another book, which will be my eleventh. I see the gratifying hard work as I brush up the cover and format it for print and ebook. I see the excitement of returning to UnHeard, my NaNoNovel, to make it into an epic third entry to the world I never named. Only the continents, some of the cities and the smaller elements grow in increasing revelation, an homage to how blurry the world can get on the broad and distant edges. Even my most well-traveled characters are subject to how the world moves behind their backs.

I love how writing is so full of these little treasures of the writer. It's not just full of what we know, but what we reach for, what we want to know, yet still never quite get. Like sand art, we endeavor to create these rainbow layers, but no matter how much we try to pack it tight so the gap doesn't disrupt the sands, disturbances and time always break it down further when it's bumped around.

Rather than try so carefully not to disturb the balance, there is a moment when we must accept that stories are subject to forces that even care cannot preserve. Instead of trying to make the sands cooperate, we must appreciate the beauty of not only what it was but what it becomes.

I truly anticipate going back to that uncertainty. I've never been held back by doubt when it comes to creativity, at least not in this stage of my life. In truth, all through my life, what I've done even leisurely is somehow always magnified by people in wonder of what I sometimes took for granted. From the comics I threw onto lined notebooks in grade school to the fluorescent fairies I hid around the flower shop I worked in, there was always unexpected joy in having what I created for myself spied over my shoulder, the unchecked sounds of admiration for ways I filled my time and calmed my mind.

So why wouldn't I want to find the guts to share it? Truly, the response was worth it, but I was undoubtedly fragile. It took many years to forge myself into a creature that understood how criticism should be taken, to improve myself or ignore it altogether.

Let's be real here (as if I'm ever not) and observe that the 'suck it up, buttercup' sentiment is bullshit. It worked for older generations, for a time when opportunities were abundant, but even in cutthroat competitive areas nowadays, it does you little good. Sticking it out nowadays means it's not healthy to suck up all that poisonous tripe. Those generations didn't have the ruthlessness of keyboard warriors and doxxing that could make or break who you are. We don't need to suck that garbage up. We need to turn it into something useful and send it out. We need to strategize, to build armies, to be the arbiters of our own fate because letting others define us is dangerous.

And, really, I don't know anyone who says that who isn't sitting comfortably in a niche that is working for them. 

Closing on a light note, I love squirrels. Not just watching the silly bastards, but how much their constant bustling seems completely carefree even with such purpose to it. How, once they make it to the top of a tree, they don't just puff up in pride. They look for the next great adventure with no hint of complacency. It's no wonder so many writers consider them a fitting mascot.

Merry Christmas!

Didn't know if I'd find time away from the unboxing of gifts and general excitement, but here I am, ready to write.

It's not the same as hitting up my stories, but I'll take it!

I got plenty of cozy PJs from my family, or what I like to call my writer's work uniforms. All the more a treat since I do put on other work clothes to earn money my newbie writing career isn't cutting... Yet. I did get a spiffy new pair of Skechers from my sis for all the walking I do.

Being an UpShifter is a blessing too. You'd think showing up new to a job would be stressful, but it's actually quite the opposite. Insofar, these places are so used to us and the learning curve and grateful for the help as well. It's always in the back of my mind that even if it's not a job I want to do again, I easily don't have to sign up for it again. Sure, I'd rather write all day, every day, but because it's always a choice, I don't have to pine for the next day off on a schedule that was chosen for me-- if I want a week of starving artistry, I can take it. Or I can work all week because money is great too.

I was upset to hear that some UpShifters don't take it seriously. Some walk off the minute they get an assignment or do a poor job. I hope that this is a rare occurrence since I'd hate for programs like this to fade because clients can't trust us. Luckily, UpShift doesn't give us a bunch of chances for that kind of nonsense. Don't take the privilege seriously and they boot you for good. All three parties-- the client, UpShift and employees-- are protected well from shady practices. This means if the client tries to screw us over, it is investigated as well. No one is immediately guilty but offenders are not given a slap on the wrist.

Still, back to the good because it's too good a day to ruin! I know this doesn't sound so joyous but I have a dentist appointment coming up to get these janky teeth fixed. First day of the new year and I'm looking forward to getting rid of this persistent tooth pain. I'd like to focus on health and happiness again this year. See if I can revive my metabolism, put better fuel in my body, so I can be my best as an artist and worker. 2019 has a lot of lofty plans I hope to tick off so let's get it on!

Christmas Magic

Comparison is often a gauge for how we rank a day. Christmas is one such popular holiday where people have some bias as to what constitutes a good or bad Christmas. Never mind the starving kids for a moment and allow yourself to just go on a personal bias. It's way too easy to ruin your day by virtue of sweeping comparison. In order to enjoy any day, it often comes down to your expectations for it.

And yes, it's often a damning milestone holiday but it doesn't have to be. I've gleefully worked Christmases when my family didn't have anything planned. My childless, single self was able to remove expectations and at least be grateful I was healthy enough, free enough, to work for those double or triple rate wages. We're not all disgruntled workers ripped from the arms of our sobbing family. Work on Christmas is a great way to validate goals on a day where most businesses are closed and most people have someone to celebrate with.

That's not to down on my family. It's often through grief that holidays were just too hard to put on a happy face for. Sometimes you know you're just going to be a wet blanket. Lonely days are great days to find a new hobby. Instead, I'll see those posts about lamenting being single or without family or broke etc.

So why don't he choose joyous times to announce it? Misery loves company? I wish I could say it was that simple. I think I was just being plain stupid (yes, I've been one of those people that does it). Was it some subtle ploy to be included or spoiled? That's likely. However, if you really feel you don't want to be alone on the holidays, start talking earnestly to your friends about plans. If someone has room in their day, ask to pay them a visit. Find a group or an event-- if you're depressed, there are low-key options like concerts or performances. If you're down on your life you may not want a highly social event, especially with the usual round of high school reunion questions where people ask questions they want to brag about themselves.

I get it. The established live-in partner, the steady job, the family-- the less effort the better. However, when you don't have the luxury, don't waste it on the lamenting. 

It's okay to have a shitty holiday. Don't get so low you want to die, but understand that it's okay to not have a social media worthy day to share. Over time, I've even become very private with the quality of my days. I don't want to notice patterns or lock in moods that don't really represent what I'm about. Really-- be at peace with highs and lows but don't get stuck there. It may be a good time to reassess your expectations.

By the way, and just my opinion, it's extremely creepy when people lament being single. Not only is it unattractive, it also tells people you have expectations for a person you think you deserve. People aren't prizes for good behavior. Finding someone is often a side effect of self love and sheer dumb luck. 

Come on-- if you're my age, you damn well heard Jasmine on Aladdin throw it down. She is NOT a prize to be won!

I'm going to have a great Christmas this year. Not only because of gifts but because my family is getting along, we have food to eat, and I wanna see their faces when we finally do get to see them open our thoughtful gifts. No-- this ain't no Charlie Brown Christmas. We busted our asses to buy or make gifts and managed not to stress out or lose sight of holidays being fun.

Make your own magic. It doesn't have to be the best nor does it have to be the worst. I lost my Grandma two Christmases ago (to the day) and my mom two months later on her birthday. I've had hard holidays. It doesn't mean the world stops. If you can't have the best ever, then it may take effort.

Or none at all. Fuck it. Make it another day. A day of rest and reflection. A day of food and sleep. A day of great wages. Treat yourself.

From my family to yours, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Enjoy all the other holidays of your choice at leisure.

Too Much of a Good Thing

Complacency is a common pitfall. You think you want a job where you can where pajamas all day until you realize that freedom often comes with a sense of isolation and your routines, even basic hygiene, just don't fall under such high standards when you really have no reason to be inoffensive. You think a life where you can eat anything you like and not work out sounds terrific until you start getting out of breath just walking up a short flight of stairs and you just don't appreciate food like you did on those rare cheat days.

I remember my dad and aunt both fancied the idea of retirement and it drove them crazy in a few short months. When you find your work fulfilling, you try to 'enjoy' these gobs of free time that you just didn't realize were at least partially fulfilled by that job you couldn't wait to leave. My dad has always loved construction. There are few buildings we can pass in the city of Cincinnati that he didn't help build or renovate. 

I'm glad to be out of retail jobs, for sure, but I really enjoy working around people. Which is an odd thing because I'm not highly social. I do get asked a lot if I'm okay when I end up working alone-- washing dishes, prepping tables--it always makes me laugh because, like one girl said who understood, it gives me time to enjoy my own head-space. I often enjoy conversation, even when it doesn't make much sense or isn't directed at me. I find that jobs where people are around energize me just as much as a solitary work environment.

I'm certainly not alone. Once people are willing to shed old perceptions like Type A or B personalities, or Myers-Briggs analyses, a lot of us find we're more accurately adaptive ambiverts and able to take on different levels of social challenges. It's not weird. It's not quirky. It's not even that confusing. It's 'not tonight, honey, I have a headache'-- same sentiment, different application.

Excess is just as bad when things seem too good. We need certain amounts of good and bad stress to appreciate most what we think we'd rather be doing. Some of us can't even manage to stay away from work even when we go on vacation. True, some people just don't know how to relax, but it's just as true that our work is sometimes our zen. Away from traditional environments like a formal workspace or cubicle, etc., it's possible we're even more curious as to what we might come up with in less formal settings.

Of course, some jobs, especially those that offer no mental stimulation (some factory jobs and so on), we're more than happy not to take home. I haven't always had the greatest jobs, so I can certainly say I know what it's like to be happy to forget. Yet I've also discovered there are some jobs that you take home with you, if only because you truly thrive and grow with it. I loved being a florist. It was what finally pushed me to go to school for graphic design. It was what filled my head with stories and art once more.

I've worked with plenty of people who were suspicious of why I loved my job. Show it too much and some of my bosses suspected I was just slacking off. However, it was because it kept me so busy, because of its unique challenges, that I made it look fun. In fact, I would often have periods of frustration when I encountered problems or messed up, but they just never compared to the joy I found in my work.

Sometimes people perceive a cheerful attitude as too much of a good thing, but I didn't think it applies at all. It's nonsense usually sparked by their own envy rather than actually being bad for you. No, when I say 'too much of a good thing', it's something that comes from telling ourselves an easier life is more fulfilling.

If you have any ambition in your soul, that spark never goes out. I've often repeated the adage that artists never retire, but it's not just limited to creatives. Many of us find happiness is embedded in the challenge of our skills. Even if we believe we have nothing more to learn, we still want to keep showing off those skills, perhaps even enjoying a little praise or awe for our efforts.

I don't know about you, but the satisfaction of wearing pajamas is all the more awesome for the hours you spend pining for them.