When Bad Things Happen

It's easy to be angry. To throw accusations. Call names. Tear people apart. It's easy to judge. And to want to hurt the people who have caused such pain. It's easy to condemn an entire religion. Race. Sex. Creed. Easy to hate. To hate what we don't understand. To hate what we don't like. Hate what hurts us. What scares us. To hate what is different. And what we cannot control.

It's hard to love in times such as these. In a world such as this. Harder to have understanding in the face of grief. To nod our heads but open our hearts. To show compassion. Be guided by empathy. Sympathy. Have forgiveness for others. To not understand, but not be blinded by that confusion and frustration. To move with love instead of hate.

My thought is that happy, well-adjusted, healthy people don't shoot other people. The unhappy, unhealthy, displaced and broken people do. And those are the ones that need love the most. Even if that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.

We move forward with love. Backwards with hate.

Kickstarter For One And All!

Here's a little something that's been bothering me these days: Kickstarter (or GoFundMe or IndieGoGo). "But why?" you might ask. How can I possibly have a problem with these amazing crowd-funding sites where projects that might not have the ability to flourish are given the chance for fresh air, food and attention. Well, I have my reasons, which are vast and not very complex.

For those who don’t know what Kickstarter is, it’s a place where people seek funding for projects they have. Think of it like the Dragon’s Den. People show up with their ideas, create an amount of money they will need to make their dream come true, and other friendly individuals get so amped up over the project they decide to give money. In theory, it’s amazing – after all it did give us the Veronica Mars movie – except, theory doesn't keep us warm at night.

Everyone And Their Uncle Carl

These days everyone and their Uncle Carl seems to have a Kickstarter account - this means everyone and their Uncle Carl have their hands out. Every day, we are inundated with requests to ‘fund’ other people's projects, as if we ourselves don’t have projects that need funding – or, you know, bills in need of being paid. I can’t possibly keep up with the amount of people I know who have their very own Kickstarter going right this minute and they all want me to contribute, to support them, to give them money. And, let me tell you, money is the last thing I have to offer. Quantity reigns supreme and quality is taking a direct hit. There are so many people with projects in need of funding and I suspect a lot of the good ones are being over-shadowed by the abundance of crappy ones. Things that might actually be amazing are falling into the doomed pit of failed Kickstarter projects.

The Idea Machine

Now, think about all those projects, all those people, all those hands out. Then consider the likelihood of every single one of those people and projects being worthy of funding. Statistics and common sense tell us there will be a plethora of terrible ideas in the Kickstarter machine. Just because you have an ingenious thought at four in the morning after smoking a doobie and eating a bag of Doritos doesn't mean it needs to be made into reality. In fact, if marijuana cigarettes and chips are instrumental parts in the decision to open your Kickstarter account and take the plunge – stop. Do not proceed to go. You are not to collect two hundred dollars. In fact, go to jail. 

The world we live in these days is all about the hippie ideology that everyone is special and everyone deserves a trophy. This is wrong. Some people aren't cut out for building a company, piloting a project, or even coming up with unique ideas worthy of funding, support, or a second glance.  

Just A Thought

A lot of the people creating their projects don’t actually think them through. They guess. They scribble down a couple numbers and think they *might* be able to make it work, but they have no real idea. Sure, some sit down and take it seriously. They do their research. They crunch the numbers. Create graphs. Flow charts. A business plan. But they are few and far between. Most average human beings don’t have a clue how much time, energy and money go into making (good) movies, publishing (good) books, creating (good) prototypes for new helmets or starting a (good) pirate radio station. Notice how I added ‘good’ in there? Well, that’s the ticket, isn’t it?

The idea, project, book, movie, song doesn't have to be good. Look at self publishing. There are so many people out there self pubbing subpar books, not taking the time to hire an editor to catch all their atrocious typos and grammar mistakes, getting their friends to slap together unprofessional overs, not formatting properly. What happens if those people decide to turn around and make a movie based off their novel they sold thirty-two copies of? Well, they will create a Kickstarter and ask you for funds. Think of all the low quality work littering Amazon making it harder for the good and even great books to break the surface. Realistically, a movie isn't a good idea. Neither are t-shirts or bubble gum.

Starting a new endeavour is harder than most people assume. Sure, Pump Up The Volume made starting a radio station look easy, but that equipment is expensive, and we all don’t have the tantalizing voice Christian Slater does! All jokes aside, I might want to make an independent film about being a chubby vegan, but that doesn't mean I understand the first thing about doing it and, let’s say on the off chance I’m going to go ahead with this idea I seriously just made up, I’d have to learn a lot. I mean, a lot! And figure out a way to do it in a way that hasn't actually been done a million times before. 

It’s almost as though people think that if they raise the money then magicians and professionals will come out of the woodwork to help. This is not the case. And the very real truth is, even if you do manage to raise the funds, you will most likely run out of money before you are finished.

Yes, there are instances when it works out, like the aforementioned Veronica Mars movie and Amanda Palmer raising a million dollars to record a new album. But the people involved in those projects are, in fact, gurus in the industries . This isn't NEW to them. They KNOW what they are doing. In the end, you are asking people to give you their money so you can try something new. Don’t you think it’s your responsibility to understand the ups and downs of the industry you are trying to dive into so you can provide at least a half assed guarantee?

But This Is My Hard Earned Money

Here's the thing ... the money in my bank account is mine. I earned it. I worked hard for it. And I don’t want to give it to you. In fact, I don’t actually have this money at all. Sure, I earned it. It’s in my bank account, but I have bills to pay, rent cheques that can’t bounce, hydro and internet to keep up with. I have a car to drive. Food to buy. Pets to feed. Who the hell are you to ask me to give you money? Look, I don’t mind helping you out by buying your book, renting your movie, downloading (legally) your music, or purchasing your newfangled idea when it hits the shelves, but I have no intention of giving you money in order for you to write your books, make your movies, record your songs, or develop your prototype for a calorie burning gum. Sorry, but I’m not sorry.

Laziness Begets Laziness

We are a lazy generation. Back in the olden days, if you wanted money for a business, or project, you went to the bank, networked with financial backers, or contacted business you thought would benefit from what you’re trying to do. Also, you would use your own money. *GASP* What a novel idea, huh? To financially back yourself. But I guess this was way too hard. It required you to actually take a risk. Now people go online and create a Kickstarter, GoFundMe or IndieGoGo and send the link to five hundred of their closest friends and family members. From there, they harass people. On top of asking for money, they want you to share, like, blog and retweet their little old project to let your friends and family know they are accepting donations.

There is no risk these days. No one to hold these people accountable. You might be waiting for your perk for the rest of your life. Even if a project raises enough money, or even surpasses the amount needed, there is no real way to police the other side. And what happens when the creator shrugs their shoulders and says, “Sorry, it didn't work out.” No, you won’t get your money back.

In The End

What these sites really provide is an escape from responsibility and hard work. If the project/company/business/idea you created in Kickstarter fails, you kick the rocks at your feet and move on to your next marijuana nacho chip mind fart. Battling with your blood, bones and working three jobs to succeed isn't going to factor into your game plan when you didn't foot the bill anyhow.  In many ways, these resources are suffering from the same issues Amazon does. Too many people. Not enough care and consideration. And a lot of people not producing a quality product. Asking people for money is asking people for money. Calling it an investment is a bit ridiculous. Furthermore, the last time I checked no one ACTUALLY has any money, therefore, asking them for funding is kind of rude. Don’t you think?

Hey, I am all about everyone’s dreams coming true, but in this overpopulated world, it just isn't feasible for every single one to be brought to fruition. Let’s be honest, some dreams need to be stomped on, burned, and fed to rabid raccoons. Not to burst bubbles.

Don’t be mistaken. I don’t HATE these ‘fund me’ resources. I think they are great, especially for starving artists or people who have seriously been down and out on their luck. But, like always, moderation is the key to success. Frankly put, most people aren't capable of seeing their ideas through. There are countless projects started that should have come out as farts instead of ideas.

For Those Undeserving

At times our love seems so ignorant. Not mine and ours. But all of ours. Human love. It has this naive air to it. A new born baby, so demanding and temperamental, throwing a fit and tossing all its toys from the pram. How terrified are we about love? We fear losing it, worry the people we give it to will not protect it as fiercely as we ourselves do, and we e are terrified over losing it, worried the people we give it to will not protect it as fiercely as we ourselves do, and we expect so much in return. Even when we do give it, we are waiting for a reason to take it back. Take it away.

From my experiences, true love doesn't come with conditions, restrictions, or rules. It comes uninhibited and determined. It comes free and vast. It is the winning ticket where the prize is too valuable to understand. Imagine giving love to someone without wanting or needing it in return is boggling to our tiny brains. It is exhilarating to think about. A simple and novel idea, yet seemingly so complex, difficult to accept let alone execute. Because love doesn't conform to one set of rules, because it is flexible and an emotional chameleon, it is near impossible to imagine being able to spread it to those who are most deserving. And the idea of loving those who are deemed unlovable is baffling.

Why would we do such a thing?

Why would we love those we loathe? The ones we hate, who anger us to the point of violence, the ones who provoke our own bad behaviours, who stoke the fires of our cynicism and have us calling for them to reap what they sow, for karma to pay unto them the misery and hurt they've showered onto others. The anger comes easy. To despise those who do atrocious things, unspeakable things, things we cannot accept or understand.

But aren't these undeserving undesirables the ones who truly need love?

There is a simple fact, one most people don't take into consideration, but it's the only truth I am a hundred percent certain of. Happy, healthy people do not hurt others. Happy, healthy people do not torture, rape or murder. Happy, healthy people do not spread misery and hate. So, are these wounded, broken, unhappy people not those who need love the most? To guide them. To heal them. Or, if nothing else, to be the flickering light in the vast darkness in which they dwell?

This is not easy. Not in a world where we coddle our love and worry over who we give it to. How can we possibly extend compassion and love to the broken, lonely, unhealthy people when we have a hard time giving it to those who are good and nice? The answer is plain, with no flashing lights or bells and whistles. Practice. To be able to love everything, everyone, all things big and small, we must practice unselfish love. We must practice giving it without expectations and demands, without wants and needs, without restrictions.

When you find yourself confronted with an unfathomable deed done by a truly wicked person, remember: happy, healthy people don't hurt others. And even in the most horrific circumstances, selfless love does exist, and compassion can be found for even those who seem lost, broken and unlovable.

Learning To Love My Thighs

I don't know when my hatred of my thighs started. As far back as I remember, I took notice of how big they are, especially compared to other people's. I remember being a little girl, sitting cross legged during gym class and feeling ashamed at the pudginess of them, their sheer thickness. And that was back when they were smooth and cute. The years haven't treated them kind and I have only been worse on them.

Let me make this clear, I don't obsess over my thighs, I don't lose sleep over them, but they are there and I have yet to warm up to them. Pocked with cellulite dimples, chunky, jiggly, forever kissing each other, these tree trunks have never been my favourite part of my body. I keep them hidden. Swimsuit season makes me cringe. I worry if my shorts are too short, or my skirts for that matter, and have avoided buying adorable clothes for fear my thighs will be on display to the world. Sometimes I wonder if they are as horrid to look at for everyone else as they are to me.

These are my secrets. The ones I hate to admit. It isn't easy talking about the body part I am most self-conscious of. But this is also the truth, and as I sit here, alone with my thighs, looking down at them with uncertainty and guilt, I realize this is utterly unfair. To them. Because these jiggly hammies have done so much for me. They have always gotten me where I needed to go - from point A to point B and beyond.

We have explored many lands - like New York, Ireland, California, Montana and Georgia - and never once did they refuse to do what I wanted. They have allowed me to wander streets and mountain trails and taken me down alleyways I never should have never entered in the first place. Together we have swam in the ocean, walked dogs, jumped on trampolines, and rode many bicycles. We have danced until dawn, drove hundreds of miles, gone up countless stairs, and back down them too. Every time I've gotten up, they've done it without complaint - well, unless it was squat day.  

More importantly, they have kept my hands warm on far too many occasions for me to keep track of.  

My thighs work hard. Harder than most of my other body parts - probably trumped only by my heart. They might not be the prettiest thighs ever to exist in this world, but they are strong. They never get tired. And, more than anything else, they have never let me down. They are reliable, determined, and unstoppable. They are the reason I  go for a four hour hikes without getting tired. They allow me to get up, walk around, go for a run, dance like an idiot in my living room, pretend I can kick box, tread water for hours and sleep in my favourite position at night.

This hatred I have for them is uncalled for. It's mean. They don't deserve it. In fact, they deserve better than what I've been giving them. I should be proud of them. They might be scarred and chubby and dimply, but they are my scarred, chubby, dimply thighs, and they are always functioning on a level the rest of my body should be ashamed of. I shouldn't be embarrassed of my thighs - I should be embracing them. 

So, from this day forth, I am going to show my thighs off, give them the attention they deserve. And they need a pat on the back. A little recognition. Some respect. And, even more so, love. It's time to stop hating and start appreciating. Because these are the only thighs I have and life is a hell of a lot easier with them. 

 

And here is a rare photo of my thighs. 

Stop Making Me Uncomfotable

Here's a funny little truth about me, emotional scenes in television shows and movies make me uncomfortable. Not 'oh, this is so bang on I'm squeamish about the truth ringing forth from the scene' and not even 'wow, this is so glaringly terrible and unrealistic I can't even look at the screen'. It's more of an 'I hate emotions' type of feeling. And I'm not even an emotionless drone sent here to crush feelings with my inhumanly strong hands. In reality, I have a vast array of emotions bubbling under this calm, put-together exterior. Once upon a time, I was all about rage, these days I keep company with love and sadness.

This whole crazy world can induce such melancholic feelings if you're paying attention.

But this post isn't about the good or bad in the world, the sunshine and storm clouds, it's about being uncomfortable with emotional outbursts on the big screen. You see, last weekend, we watched the latest Walking Dead episode, the one where Darryl Dixon cries over nothing, and it left me writhing in agony. Before I go any further, let me share with you these three universal Tee truths:

1. I love Norman Reedus and think he is a rather brilliant actor
2. Darryl Dixon is my most favourite character on Walking Dead
3. Emotions make me uncomfortable

Alright, now the Dixon Darlings, what I imagine the Mr. Reedus fan clubbers call themselves, won't tear my throat out when I say I could have done without that episode. Maybe it's because I love a man of mystery and didn't need to know anything more than the rough, badass exterior I'd grown to love. Or maybe it was because watching Darryl break apart, shed that hard as rock exterior, and let loose the raw man emotions he harboured only managed to leave a 'this is mighty awkward' impression on me. Oh, he's done it before, spilled those salty eye droplets, better known as tears, but at least he had a reason. His brother was a zombie and he needed to shoot him in order to stay alive. Talk about a tragic situation right there! Poor, poor Merle. But this time it was almost like Walking Dead was trying to do some character building, which I am not okay with! Just joking, I love character building, but Walking Dead doesn't do those sorts of dirty things. They prefer to keep their characters flat, except Rick, he's all kinds of colourful crazy.

Darryl Dixon's sensitive scene isn't the first flood of feelings that has put me on edge. It happens all the time.

Back in the day, my ex-used to call me cynical because every time there was a proclamation of love in a movie I'd scoff and roll my eyes. It's always the grand gestures that get me or the man breaking their strong, silent habits, all of a sudden going against every fibre of their being and getting verbose about how much they adore the woman who is ready to leave them. Yeah, because men always stand outside your doorway with cards proclaiming their love, or say things like 'you complete me'. Even now, my brow is pinched and I'm smirking wryly.

And don't get me wrong. It isn't just when men do it. You know that scene in Ten Things I Hate About You when Kat reads the poem she wrote about hating but not really hating Patrick? She's all crying and upset and I distinctly remember feeling as if I needed to escape the moment because watching it made me extremely distressed. Even worse, every single time Julia Roberts cries in every single movie. Steel Magnolias, My Best Friend's Wedding, Notting Hill, Pretty Woman, and on and on. I think it's her mouth and the watery misery welling in her Bambi eyes.

Maybe it's because I know they are acting. That it isn't real. It's all fake. And often the scenes are so contrived and ridiculous. Characters going completely against their nature to have these epic emotional episodes. Perhaps that's what makes me uncomfortable, except sometimes emotions in real life make me uncomfortable too. Though, I don't discount them, unless they are over something ridiculous, like a misplaced cellphone. I can totally sympathize with most people and truly am most empathetic for others.

I'm not even going to bother trying to figure it out. After all, it's just a funny little truth about me. Something I noticed and am sharing. I think I just have a bit of Spock in me.

Let's Keep This Pinteresting

The Sidekick hates Pinterest.

Not because he isn't a fan of art and pictures and such, but because people print off grainy tattoos that a hundred million people have and want to put them on their bodies. When all he wants is to design something awesome and unique to the individual wanting to put something permanently on their body. I can see how this can be frustrating. Do you know how many people have an infinity symbol with the world 'love' in it? A gazbillion. And where do they put them? On their wrists. Upside down, of course. Because it's for them and they want to read it.

And I never really thought about upside down tattoos until Mr. Sidekick said, "What are you going to do, have a whole sleeve the wrong way on your arm?" Whatttt???? Yep. So here I am, with two upside down tattoos on my wrists (neither of which say love or have an infinity symbol in them) and knowing I have to cover them up because they are in fact UPSIDE DOWN. Then I ask the man, "Why didn't the guy tattooing them steer me right?"

Do you know what he replies?

Because people don't listen. What a sad state of affairs! I would have listened. As soon as Sidekick pointed out how if I wanted to build a sleeve it'd all be upside down I felt silly! Thank goodness for cover ups. And just the other day I ran into a girl with upside down tattoos on one arm. The word 'believe' on her wrist, I believe, but then she put two birds under it, which were upside down as well, then another tattoo under that, also upside down. It looked terrible.

So, I guess I understand why Sidekick dislikes Pinterest. It's detracts from originality and spreads poorly done work. It's great to have an idea for what you might like and using pictures as a stepping stone and jumping off point, but there's something to be said about being open minded enough to have an awesome piece of work designed specifically for you.  

On the other hand, I love Pinterest. Mostly because I do love art and pictures and weird things and it inspires me. I can create boards for my novels and give myself visuals of the characters and places inside my books and that's something to be grateful for. Also, it allows me to save awesome imagery! There are some really odd things on the internet. It's kind of nice to have one place where I can collect these wicked and weird and beautiful pictures.

That being said, only one of my pins has ever really gotten a lot of attention. A picture of Charlie Hunnam (Jax Teller from Sons of Anarchy). Goes to show you where most pinners minds are at.

Anyhow, this is my account over there.

But before you click the link, beware. I am a bit of an odd duck. And no, I don't have a tattoo board.

I Am Not Here To Hurt You

People don't want to hurt you.

Well, let me rephrase that. Most people don't want to hurt you.

Sure, there are some sadistic bastards out there who take pleasure in causing harm, but they are actually far and few between. That may come as a shock. Probably because we live in this crazy world where we are constantly being told how hurtful and distrustful everyone is. Everyone is out to get us. They want to steal our homes, cars, and boyfriends and girlfriends. Our friends and family are moments away from using and abusing us. Co-workers are going to take credit for our work. Bosses are going to overwork and underpay us. Cooks will spit in our food. Grocery clerks will overcharge us. Random people we don't know want to clone our identities and become us.

Well, that's just crazy. Isn't it? Sure, you're all nodding your heads, but the paranoia is there, it's set in, and it's spreading. Because we all know what happened to so-and-so. She went to wherever and ran into what's-his-name and the humdinger and the what-cha-ma-call-it and nothing will ever be the same again. Her life is ruined! And there are a hundred stories to back up the don't trust your neighbour vibe we are cultivating. Whether we like it or not, no one can be trusted. I heard it on the news; so it must be true. 

To counteract it, we have to be diligent. We can't become victims. No one wants to be made a mockery of! Square your shoulders, narrow your eyes into suspicious slits and watch with the dedication of a hawk all the people you come in contact with. They are all out to get you. You can't trust anyone. No one wants to see you happy. Humans are self-serving creatures that want to creep into your house at night and take all your good memories and laughter and love. 

It's so ridiculous, but I was there once. I thought people were out to get me. After you catch your friends talking bad about you and have enough run-ins with creeps on the street you start to believe what the media is selling. This is where the fear comes in. Controlling-lock your doors when you enter your house-check your backseat-don't stop to give the lost man directions-fear. A fear so thick and suffocating that we don't walk anywhere alone late at night and certainly won't open our doors if someone is banging on it crying for help. Why? Because we are going to get mugged or tricked or taken advantage of.  

I'm sorry to tell you, it's a lie. And it's been a lie since we were kids when we were told not to talk to strangers. These feelings of antipathy carry on until we are adults. Strangers are painted as these evil monsters who want to rip out your fingernails and feed you poisoned candies. Except, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we are all strangers - and sometimes we get lost and make mistakes. Sometimes we do horrible things. There are even times when we are mean. But then we are also nice and giving, caring and sweet. And every-so-often, we need help, just like everyone else.

If given the chance, maybe all of us strangers can change things. There are a handful of individuals trying to divide us, of that I'm certain, and modern society is indeed a step backwards. We want bigger fences and less connections, or so we are told. We are no longer a tribe. We do not know our neighbours. The days of borrowing sugar are long gone, and I highly doubt anyone introduces themselves to the new people who move in on their block. Our welcome mats have long been disposed of. And the lonely pit we are all now dwelling is getting a little deeper every day. Eventually, we won't be able to get out. 

Right now, most of us are merely existing in this world. To simply exist means to eat, sleep and breathe, and that is just a waste of life. We want to live here. And to live is to thrive and grow. I spent many years dwelling in my hurt and I allowed it to make me jaded. It brought me so far away from the girl I wanted to be, the girl I knew I was, that I lost sight of what I was doing. It took me a long time to get back to where I belonged, to find my home again.

Life is precious  It is fleeting. We have no time to waste. Which is why we need to cherish the moments we are here. The moments we are together. We need to appreciate ourselves and each other.   

If the world doesn't end next week, I propose a radical movement of love based on trust and forgiveness. Perhaps if we let go of our past wrongs, then we can move into future rights. Stop the negative thinking and let some positive light shine in. And, most importantly, understand that there are more good people in this world than bad. Hopefully, with a little hard word, some laughter and plenty of cookies and cake, we can undo some of the damage that has occurred. I want to try to change this perception that mankind is uncaring and unforgiving. Maybe then we can start to unravel this horrendous knot of apathy and animosity our society is entangled in.

From this day forward, know this - I am not here to hurt you.

And I choose to believe you are not here to hurt me.