Please call. A life and death vote is happening at the end of the month. Call your senators NOW. If you live in a state where there is a single payer bill on the table, call your state senators or whoever else is voting on it. Then call all your friends and tell them to do the same. Tell your spouse to call. Tell your mom to call. Tell everyone to call. If the AHCA (Trumpcare) passes, Americans will die. So call like your life depends on it. It could.
I have been having a hard time processing the rising number of hate crimes in this country. Harder still processing the seeming silence of so many, both in my own life and on the political stage. Every time an Indian American man is killed I hug my half-Indian boyfriend tighter, wondering if he will be next. Every time I text him to get paper towels on his way home, I wonder if my simple request is what will get him killed. When he wears his Sith costume to DM a Star Wars game or wears a kurta to work, I wonder if that is what will get him mistaken for a terrorist by some idiot who cannot even properly identify the people he ignorantly hates.
But this recent act of terrorism in Portland, that claimed two lives and nearly claimed a third, has affected me more than I was prepared for. After two nearly sleepless nights and a fullblown anxiety attack while watching Harry Potter Weekend, I tried to process my feelings by putting them into words. Words, whether spoken, written, sung, keened, or carved in stone on a memorial are how we process these evils. How we remember who sacrificed and for what. Stories of heroes like Arthur, Aragorn, and Harry Potter are what we need when the world grows dark and uncertain and the right path grows more daunting or harder to find.
These fictional heroes are the best of us, our real flesh and blood heroes writ large across timeless stories that are still very much stories of their times. This is why I became a writer in the first place. So I hope you will take the time to read my words. I hope that they help in some small way as we, like Theoden, wonder what to do against such reckless hate. Continue reading →
This right here. When normal people are tired they rest and then they are better. When someone with a chronic illness is “out of spoons” their ability level is shot and their fatigue is overwhelming and may take days (or weeks or longer) to recover.
EDIT May 18th, 2017:Several people have written to ask if they “count” as a spoonie because they have a mental illness like anxiety or depression. Yes, yes! It’s right now 6am in Seattle, and I’m about to leave on a trip with my husband to California to visit the Stanford Infectious Disease Clinic, where Jose Montoya is doing research into what causes Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I’m going to be a new patient, and see if they have any treatments that might help me. I’ll be back on Saturday, and I want to write more about this, but in the meantime, I want to apologize for failing to clarify what I mean by “chronic illness”. ANY chronic condition that causes fatigue, is a chronic illness. I’ve lived with panic disorder for over a decade, I’m painfully aware of the fatigue that it can cause. Depression, cancer, anything that is chronic…
It’s Irish History Month and Women’s History Month, so come join an Irish American writer (who also happens to be a woman) talk historical fiction, Irish folklore, and whatever else you want to know. And it’s on Facebook. So you don’t even need pants. Continue reading →
Apparently, it’s National Tell a Fairytale Day. I don’t know who decides these things, but Beneath Blair Mountain volunteers as tribute. While set in 1910s America, this book was inspired by Irish tales of the Sidhe and Icelandic tales of the elves/Huldufolk. At their roots, both of these traditions, like the fairytales canonized by the infamous Brothers Grimm, lean more horror than fantasy. Expect no Disney fare here. Continue reading →
As some of you may know, I come from a military family. My paternal grandmother estimated we had at least 150 years of service on my father’s side alone. At the age of ten, I was homeschooled for a year just outside of Washington, D. C. when my father was on active duty in the area. While there, we visited Arlington Cemetery and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Continue reading →