Passion vs. Practicality

There is a distinct difference to my life now and the life I had imagined for myself in college. My degree in Anthropology prepared me for long hours in museum labs, labeling artifacts, entering in countless artifact and lot numbers, and laying out floor flans for exhibits. None of this I actually ended up doing. My visions of myself in jeans, semi-casual shirts, and a lab coat pouring over books and articles, sipping massive amounts of coffee, and doing research just didn’t come true. My background knowledge of North American Indian tribes and the ability to differentiate between all the different projectile points drifted below everything else in my mind. All the hours spent digging up artifacts on the side of road, washing the dirt and sand off of artifacts, trying to identify what they were, and then using my steady hand to tirelessly label each individual shard fell to the way wayside.

You know what though? I’m completely okay with all. You know why? Because the passion that I have for all of that still rings true. The countless stories and experiences I gained from my undergrad and the journey to pursue my Smithsonian dream I wouldn’t trade for anything else.

Now I am pursuing my Master’s Degree in Geospatial Science. I spend long hours going cross-eyed at my computer trying to identify errors in programming, picking out topographical changes of DEM files, analyzing satellite imagery, and working out all the statistics until my brain explodes. This is what I ended up doing. My vision of myself has become suit jackets, high wasted skirts, blouses, and a CAC card holder around my neck as I fly through pages and pages of classified training documents, sipping massive amounts of coffee (well some things haven’t changed), and paving the way for my technical editing expertise to thrive. My knowledge of grammar, IT, GIS, security, and the classified space has come to the forefront over the 3 years I’ve been in this field. All the hours spent typing away at the computer, pouring over documents that I then have to decipher for readability, and using my pen to mark up endless course descriptions is floating up on the surface now.

The fact of the matter is these are just a couple of portions of my life: my work and my Grad School career. No matter what, would be happy with what path those aspects took because of all the other things that I have going on. My writing is a big part of that (beyond the technical writing I do for work that is). In the end so what if I didn’t/don’t end up using my undergrad degree? My passion for anthropology and culture still goes on even though I chose (in my mind) the more practical route for a career.

Influence of LGBT Characters

From a young age I knew there was something different about me. Since I grew up in a Conservative Christian environment, I never really understood what this difference was. I didn’t fall into stereotypes that other girls around me had: I gravitated towards hanging out with boys, played in the mud, liked comics, and was involved in almost every sport. More notably than any of that: I didn’t really find myself liking boys. Sure I thought some were cute, but I found myself staring at the blonde haired girls more than not.

Despite this, I still didn’t understand that this meant that I wasn’t straight. It wasn’t until I started watching shows and reading books with Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) characters that I realized that I wasn’t alone in what I was feeling. I distinctively remember the first time I was “exposed” to an LGBT character in a show: it was Willow on Buffy the Vampire Slayer (pictured above with her girlfriend, Tara). When Willow started realizing that she liked girls it made me start realizing that I was like her; I too liked girls (as well as guys). Here was a strong, book smart (not to mention Wiccan) female character who also was figuring out that she was a lesbian. This character crafted by Joss Whedon was just one of many of his LGBT characters in his other works.

Willow wasn’t the only character that helped me blossom as an LGBT youth. As far as literature, I fell in love with the character of Lucy from the Scarpetta series by Patricia Cornwell. Lucy was a rising star in the IT side of the FBI and happened to be a lesbian. Then I found out that not only was the character a lesbian, but the Author, Cornwell, was as well. That’s when my young head realized: gays, lesbians, bisexual, transgender people were all… well just people. We hold all different jobs in the world and our sexuality was just one aspect of ourselves. It’s a little sad to me that it took reading/watching these characters to realize that but at the same time it definitely helped me and shaped who I am today.

Once I started realizing what exactly “gay” was, it was easier for me to pick out who was and who wasn’t in film and literature. I immediately started to gravitate towards the LGBT characters in shows and also started watching shows that predominantly featured LGBT characters. Shows like Queer as Folk and The L Word quickly became my favorites. Other shows that happened to have LGBT characters also were high on my list.

Then I started writing about them myself. In fact almost every one of my written works has a main character that is part of the LGBT community. Writers write parts of themselves in their characters so why not use my experiences with sexuality as a tool to help others? It is my hope that my own characters will help other members of the LGBT community like the Whedon and Cornwell characters helped me.

In this day and age we are seeing more and more LGBT characters on the screen and in books but there was a time where they weren’t as prominent; times where having a gay character was “edgy” (and heavens forbid we had a trans character on a show). Entertainment reflects what’s going on in that time period and with more and more acceptance of LGBT characters we’ve seen an influx.

Returning from the Depths

I’m sure you all have noticed the absence of new posts on my blog, but there was a good reason for that: I was slugging through the depths of hell also known as my Remote Sensing Class. When I started out this class I was excited to learn more about the discipline and was eager to get into playing around with the satellite imagery. At first it was great, the professor seemed knowledgeable, and the lab assignments weren’t that hard. *insert belly laugh here*

Yeah, three weeks in and I was screaming Uncle. Up until now I’ve had hard classes, I’ve had classes with idiotic TAs, and I’ve had classes that I couldn’t wait to be over with. This class though was on a whole other level. My brain ached during every online lecture, the TA made me not even want to go to the lab session, and our assignments had nothing to do with that was being taught. Thankfully for me, I have an awesome friend and former classmate who works for the USGS as a Remote Sensing Specialist. He was my saving grace but even with his help, I struggled.

In the end I was still excited about my final project though. I was going to build off of the first project I did for the Spatial Analysis Class: Mount St. Helens Landscape Change Post-Eruption. Pretty cool, huh? Yeah well then the harsh reality hit that this project was going to be close to impossible to do. It was one thing to do all the research and write about the topic, it was a whole other to run the different analysis in the ENVI software. So five days before my project was due I decided to totally change it and focus on the vegetation change around Mount St. Helens after the eruption.

After tons of coffee, a couple unexpected days off work, and some source assistance from my awesome, perpetual student Mother from Another Life (MFAL), my project somehow miraculously got finished. The research turned out to be even better than the first time around and the image results I got were pretty awesome. Even better was that I finished it two days before it was due which still leaves plenty of time for me to triple and quadruple check everything.

An audible sigh of relief left my mouth last night after I finished that monstrosity of a class. Now I know that Remote Sensing just isn’t for me (and I even said that in our last discussion question which was a critique of the class). The satellite images look awesome and as far as reading about it and doing the research, it’s quite fascinating. However, sit me in front of the ENVI software to play around with the images using different algorithms and formulas and I’m out.

Thankfully my next class is Web Programming. I’m actually excited for this class since I have a background in web design and that essentially what this class is. More importantly it will help to have a less challenging class to deal with while the wedding approaches. Let’s hope my stress levels drop considerably.

Image is from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Time

At 24 years old I think I have accomplished a lot of what I set out to do in life: I finished college, got my first “career” job, got into Grad School, received my security clearance, and became a published author. There were also some things that happened that I didn’t expect (*sap alert*) like falling in love and getting engaged. All in all I am pretty damn happy with the way my life has turned out so far. Then I sit and think what I now have going on in my life: all the projects I’m working on, school, work, planning a wedding, and the process of buying a house. To say I’m a little overwhelmed now would be an understatement.

Despite all of this, I still have these grand endeavors that I would like to accomplish; most of these have to do with my writing. My passion for writing is perhaps the strongest out of any of my other passions. What’s great about this is I can use my other passions in my writing. My mind is always running with different ideas for existing series I have or new ones. Currently I am working on a couple different things: a sequel to Dark Cell, a sequel to Summer’s Hollow, a crime drama, prequels to Loose, and any random short story ideas that pop into my head. The biggest problem I have is I’ll watch a movie, watch a TV show, or read a book and think: huh I’d love to write a story like that.

Recently I just got caught up on the show “Hell on Wheels” which is a fantastic look at a fictional life out west after the civil war. This is a time period that has always fascinated me but I never really had a chance to write about. While watching the show I kept thinking of different stories I could add into the show, different characters, mixing of cultures and religions, etc. My studies in anthropology almost always pop up in my writing and I thought it would be awesome to work on some stories that focus on the main culture areas that I studied in my archaeology classes: The North American Indians. In addition, I saw how the freed slaves interacted with the other workers especially when it came to their religions. I thought throwing some Hoodoo practices into those scenarios would be awesome.

All these ideas that I have are awesome but there’s one problem: time, I don’t have much of it. Well really, I don’t have any of it. My head is on the verge of explosion as it is and I’ll be lucky if I have five minutes to sit down between now and wedding (4 months from today!!!). This means that unfortunately some things have to be put on hold, namely my publishing. Writing is actually the easy part. Coming up with stories and putting the pen to paper comes naturally to me. Editing and formatting though things that I actually do at my “day job,” are the hard parts. There is a lot of work that goes into all of that; hell remember when it took me 3 years just to do those things for Summer’s Hollow?

The bulk of it boils down to this: I may not get around to publishing another book this year. Doesn’t mean I won’t be writing (it’s what keeps me sane), just means that the finished products might not be ready for the public for a while. You know what? I’m okay with that. As I started out with, I have accomplished quite a lot in my life and I still have A LOT of life left to continue those things. For now I’m going to focus on the things that are going in my life now: all the insanely awesome and life changing events that will be taking place this year. Who knows, maybe in the midst of all that Dark Hall or Return to Summer’s Hollow will make appearances. So I’m asking you all to stick with me through these life changing occurrences and know that my mind never stops churning out stories.

Image Courtesy of: http://megworden.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/time.jpeg

Christian School Chronicles

Let me preface the following stories by saying that there are many Christians who display the opposite behavior of the people in these anecdotes. In fact I still go to my church that I attended for years simply because I love how open and inviting the people are there (and also to see my Grandparents who also go to the church). Most of my friends and family are actually Christian and I love them to death but there are a select few who are no longer in my life for the reasons that follow.

Perhaps the best place to start off is my trek into kindergarten. I have always had a late birthday (November 10th) so when everyone else was starting to go to school I was only 4 (rather than the age of 5 which kids usually went into kindergarten). The thing is I have always been advanced for my age so my mom, instead of holding me back to Pre-K like many other parents did, wanted to enroll me into kindergarten. What you have to realize is that living outside of DC some of the school’s aren’t the best so my mom decided it was right to send me to private school.

My mom is agnostic but she was baptized as a Lutheran like the rest of her family. She rarely attends church, believes that her religion and relationship with God is personal, and is open to any other religious ideas. At that time though, she heard about this great Christian private school in the area. Right away she saw how great the academics were so she was hell bent on getting me into this school.

Well low and behold they told us that I was too young and they would put me into Pre-K but not kindergarten. Needless to say my mom was pissed so she enrolled me in another private school (this time strictly a Lutheran run school). This school had horrible academics. We were learning things that the Pre-K students were learning at the other school.

My mom (the stubborn and amazingly strong woman that she was) then went back to the original school and demanded that they test me for kindergarten. They did and on my 5th birthday I tested at the 1st grade level. So you better believe they let me in since their test scores would go up.

Throughout my elementary school years I wasn’t hit with much adversity, but the Christian values were hammered into my skull. We studied the bible, catechisms, devotionals, and other biblical texts along with the other basic studies and I really enjoyed the stories. I also enjoyed the weekly “chapels” that we would have where we would come together and sing and listening to people talk about their experiences with Jesus and the Holy Spirit.

Up until this point I was happy in this little bubble that my school had stuck me in. It wasn’t until 4th grade that I started to question things. I vividly remember the conversation that started the fall of my faith in Christianity and more importantly so called “Christians.” We were all sitting in class, our desks in a U shape in the classroom; my teacher was in the middle.

She started a discussion on different Christian sects. I was fascinated to learn about all the different protestant sects and how Martin Luther started the whole movement. I was even proud and raised my hand saying that I learned all about Martin Luther and his 95 thesis in Sunday school at my church. My teacher said how great that was so she started everyone else going around the room telling what sect they belonged to and if any had been in multiple. Thus the snowball started. My one friend started out saying she was raised Catholic but now was Baptist. Another friend stated that he used to be Catholic but his parents decided to switch to being Presbyterian. Three more friends in the class had similar stories. When it got to my turn I stated that my dad’s family was Catholic and I was baptized Lutheran but attended both services throughout my life. It got strange looks from both my teacher and my classmates but they moved on and finished all the students’ stories.

My teacher then applauded the students who had moved on from Catholicism and stated that she had had a similar experience. It was at this point that I raised my hand and politely asked “Why is it so bad to be Catholic? It’s just another part of Christianity right?” My teacher went on to talk about all the horrible things that the Catholic Church had done over the years and how it was best to get as far away from Catholicism as possible including Lutheran, Episcopal, and Methodist churches. This left my 9 year old mind confused and wanted a better explanation, one that I wasn’t going to get from this teacher.

That moment has always stuck in my head and honestly I have never gotten closure from this teacher on why she felt this way. I remember going home to my mom almost in tears not understanding why certain sects of Christianity were better than others. For years though I let it slide, then fast forward to 7th Grade Bible class.

Once again I can remember this moment like it was yesterday. This time we were in a circle shape with our desks with our Teacher in the middle. We were in a deep discussion about predestination and what it really meant. My teacher, who I usually adored, then went on to explain that some Christian sects didn’t believe in predestination. What was one of those sects? Well Lutheranism of course. So once again I raised my hand and told my teacher that I was in fact a Lutheran. He asked if I believed in predestination and I said no.

Then one of my fellow classmates raised their hands and asked if that meant that I was going to hell. In a text book example of circular logic my teacher informed the students that it was God’s choice of whether I was going to hell or heaven because it was already predestined. Shocked from the question of my classmate I kept quiet and didn’t press the subject. In my mind I thought of all I had been taught about not being judged and what not.

From that point forward I was determined to read as much of the bible as possible and began studying it extensively to find out everything I could. In the process of this I found I also was fascinated with other religions and began studying them as well. I became especially enthralled by Paganism, especially the Irish and Norwegian pantheons since my ancestors with from Ireland and Norway. I of course started sharing what I had learned any chance I could get in my classes including writing papers.

In those next few years that I was at that Christian school I pissed off many a teacher and administrator with my incessant questions and subsequent obsession with all other religions. I was labeled the “rebel” who was way too interested in the occult and other “sinful ways of thinking.” I then began to question all the past situations that I had written off as nothing but now were coming to light with my new eyes that I had found. We weren’t allowed to read Harry Potter or any other stories that had witchcraft in it, couldn’t watch movies that had any references to the occult, and at one point weren’t even allowed to listen to the band Bewitched (No I am not making this up, incredulous I know). From that point on I used any opportunity to argue against these mandates. I was chastised for watching horror films citing that “we don’t serve a God of fear,” told I was going to hell because I believed it ghosts, and was sent to the principal numerous times for showing similarities in Christianity and Paganism.

The third story that I remember so vividly came in 8th grade. I walked outside during recess in and to my surprise saw a bunch of elementary school students having a May Day celebration. They had made a May pole and were dancing around it holding their colored streamers and many of the girls had flowered crowns on their heads. At the sight of this I actually grew excited and thought that finally my sheltered school had embraced another culture and religion’s ritual. Oh was I ever wrong.

At the time I was right by one of the middle school teachers so, me being me, decided to say something about it. I proceeded to tell her that it was nice to see that the younger students were learning about other religions and their celebrations. At this comment the teacher stopped, looked right at me, and asked me what I meant by that. I told her that I thought it was great they were learning about Beltane. She thought I was confused and started to go into that it was called May Day and that it was to celebrate the Virgin Mary. I then corrected her and started to tell her what I had learned from my Irish heritage. Went into how this celebration was around long before Christianity was even around (first strike) and how it was actually associated with many pagan holidays that took place around the time of the year (second strike).

Obviously this didn’t go over well at all and she insisted that I was mistaken and wanted to know where I had heard that. I very nonchalantly explained that I had many books at home that explained different pagan rituals especially Celtic ones. From there I was told I shouldn’t be reading about that and instead should be reading the bible or my devotional books. She went on a long rant about how I should study more about Christianity and understanding it. She then went on to talk about how there were plenty of books that explained what May Day was really about.

Still I didn’t let go that this wasn’t originally a Christian Holiday but she kept ignoring it and soon recess was over. From then on if I ever brought up that or any other holidays or rituals that were derived from Pagan holidays I was told to stop talking about it. Of course I would try to bring it up as many times as I could, even going so far as to write a papers about how most Christian Holidays were moved around to appease the Pagans (one which I was sent to the principal’s office for).

Now I wish I could say that my talking about this constantly made my teachers and classmates think differently about May Day and the other holidays but sadly it did not. They just ignored it, pretended that I was just spouting off crazy talk. That May Day incident was the breaking point when I realized that there were many Christians that were so judgmental and stuck in their ways and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be part of their “group anymore.

Needless to say after 9th grade I left that sheltered school and starting going to a public school. Not only was I able to write about other religions all I wanted but I got to take classes on Comparative Religions and Mythology. But even at the public school I was met with adversity. Take my Creative Writing class for example. Many of my stories that I wrote for that class had occult undertones.

During one of our “sharing sessions” (ironically our desks in a circle) I read a story and was told by a fellow classmate that it was really well written but she didn’t like all the “morbid stuff” as she put it. To my surprise, before I could say anything, the guy sitting next to be chimed in that he loved the way I worked the occult into my story and the tone of it. This shut that girl up and I actually blushed since of course this was a guy I had a crush on.

After that class another one of my classmates came up to me in a computer lab and asked me if I was Wiccan. She said she noticed the Celtic cross I always wore around my neck and the themes of my stories. I told her that at this point I didn’t know what I was but I commended her on noticing both things. This experience showed me that everyone wasn’t completely horrible and that there were plenty of people out here in the “real world” that were open to new religions.

Of course though there were still the close minded people even out of the Christian school bubble like that girl in my creative writing class. Yet another vivid story came senior year in my Mythology class. My teacher (who was beyond amazing) introduced the material of the class on the first day and went over all the mythological texts that we would be studying. Then came the part that made my eyes twinkle and my smile to grow so wide it almost fell off my face; among those mythological texts we were studying was the Bible.

She had barely uttered the word when at least five people’s hands shot up. They all had the same thing to say: “The Bible isn’t myth.” My teacher very gracefully explained that we were here to study the explanations of creation, how the world works, etc. set down by the stories of different cultures. Still these students argued that that’s what real, thus not a myth. She then told them if they didn’t agree with her teaching of the Bible as a myth for the class then they were welcome to leave. Three people left the class and never came back. My faith in humanity had been restored and I realized that not everyone was out to get me. Finally I found a place that I belonged.

The Beast

It creeps up inside of you, clawing at your insides, stopping your breath, and rendering you frozen. It’s that feeling of complete and utter helplessness while your body fights to shut down. Nothing anyone can say or do can stop it. You cannot simply get rid of it; there is no easy way to slay this beast. It affects you every minute of every day and limits what you can accomplish. As hard as you try, there are some things that it just won’t let you do.

There are times when you don’t know when it’s going to strike. You could be going on with your day like everything is fine and then it rears its ugly head and stops you in your tracks. You can try to tame it; try to offer it comfort and there are times when it sticks. Other times it evolves into an even bigger beast and leaves you a wreck. You suffer from it and those around you suffer as a result. Simple everyday tasks are hindered by it. A moment can be fine, then the beast ruins it halfway through.

The beast has many ways to torture the host. There are times when it yanks on the brain causing the host’s head to hurt. Other times it pokes at your lungs, yanks on the stomach, or shakes the bladder. Perhaps its favorite pastime is whispering in the host’s ear. It whispers all kinds of horrors: every terrible scenario for every situation, the beast fills your ears with it.

Each beast is specific to its host. It feeds on the host’s every fear; it even heightens those fears and beats the host into submission. What tames the beast in one person won’t necessarily work on the other person; sometimes it even makes the beast madder. There are things that can shrink the beast, quell the beast, and turn the beast from the usual torture.

The beast never leaves you no matter how much you try. It can get lost in you; remain buried for long periods of time. Then it finds its way back up when you least expect it.

An Ode To My Stapler

I’m sorry, things just aren’t working
Your age and agility has waned
The jams and faults are irking
Many times I have been pained


Paper no longer stays together on your watch
Your work ethic has been suffering
If only you were able to take it up a notch
The decision of your fate I would be altering


Instead we have to part ways
Your status is no longer the same
If only you had not fallen into the haze
Your faults and jams I would tame


I have found another, younger aid
One who has a bright future ahead
Her black, smooth surface shiny as jade
And whose use I will never dread