So, Tom follows Lucinda.

     So, Tom follows Lucinda.

     Tom and Lucinda weaved through the afternoon meandering this way, hopping that way. They traced a route back through towards the town square. The festivities celebrating his dog’s life dwindled to the last of the humans who were not really sure why they were there, but came for the watermelon spitting contest and fair games.

     Lucinda led him towards the statue of “Christopher in Bronze.” She snapped her fingers and script burned into his marble base.

     Hey, Human! You found it! There is a place I want to show you. To get there you must

TURN RIGHT AT THE PUPPY

TURN LEFT AT THE PUPPY

So, Tom thinks he's dreaming

     So, Tom thinks he is dreaming.

     This isn’t some Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole. Clearly, this is a totally realistic interpretation of every day events. This stuff happens all the time. Reader, go back and follow Lucinda. C’mon, n00b.

     Just kidding, you do what you want. And, you’re not a n00b. You’re a lovely child of the human race. But, really, Lucinda has a much more fun story. Keep reading if you don’t believe me.

     Tom woke up in the middle of the night. Honking horns and iridescent lights blared through his studio apartment. And, he had no recollection of a dog named Christopher, a flying mini human named Lucinda, or the awesome adventures that they had.

The end. (Click here to go back ONE option)

Start over.

So, Tom goes on an adventure.

*We take a break from the regularly scheduled programming entitled: "So, pirate socks are for boys, and princess socks are for girls: a discussion on gender and behavior" to bid adieu to one of Korea's finest gentlemen. Mr. Caprikajajdhfgnica, you will certainly be missed by all.*

About a thousand months ago, I asked for ideas on short stories. And, my friend T has asked me about them every time I have seen him. So, as his going away gift, I decided to not write just a review, but a full on short story. BUT THEN, I decided that that wasn't enough for him. Instead, I wrote my very first Choose Your Own Adventure adventure. Please bear with me. Imma try to not eff up the hyperlinks, but I am sure there will be at least one. 

Tom, you are a hero among humans.

xoxo,

Bots

Take a _______ At The Puppy-- Idea submitted by Anonymous

     “Today is an auspicious day,” Reginald winked at the gathered crowd. “Today is the day we honor our most charitable member of our community. Today is the day we unveil a statue sculpted with such a likeness that our dear Christopher might have thought he was looking at a mirror. With no more pomp and much less circumstance, I give you the piece: Christopher in Bronze.”

     Cheers erupted from all corners of the square. Reginald dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief before grasping hands with the townspeople. Tom slunk through the legs of the adults with expertise. Soon, he was nose to nose with Christopher in Bronze.

     Patting the sculpture’s head, Tom whispered, “’Atta boy, Christopher. ‘Atta boy.” He kissed Christopher in Bronze’s snout and melted back into the summer’s day scenery. 

     The picnic was in full fledge. He dodged potato salad tables, hot dog grills, and games involving balloons and fish, though uncertain about their connectivity. Tom snatched one piece of watermelon cut exactly in an equilateral triangle, had the rind been a straight line. 

TOM GOES HOME

TOM STAYS AT THE FESTIVAL

So, Tom stays at the festival.

     So, Tom stays at the festival

     “Tom, you’re such a brave boy,” one man said, ruffling Tom’s hair.

      A woman with a powdered face and pointy nails scratched his arm, “Thank you for sharing your dog. I am so sorry.”

     Moriah sidled up next to Tom, and held his hand, “Thank you, Tom. You saved my life. I’m real sorry that Christopher got hurt.”

     “Thanks, Moriah. I am glad that you are okay,” Tom sighed. “I just miss him, you know?”

     “Yeah, I know,” she dropped his hand and scurried away from him.

     Tom walked through the festival not seeing anything. It all blurred into colors and shapes. Tom’s teacher handed him a red slush drink. He took it without realizing and continued walking. He sat down on a bench and watched the festival unfold. His eyes drooped. Snap. He jumped awake to a small floating human hovering just above his nose.

     “Just what do you think you’re doing sleeping at a time like this?” this woman in a green body suit and pink hair chastised him.

     “Um, I don’t know. I was just—it is just so much,” Tom sputtered.

     “My name is Lucinda, and I am going to go on an adventure. Wanna come?” She rested one hand on her hip and pouted.

TOM THINKS HE IS DREAMING.

TOM FOLLOWS LUCINDA.

So, Tom goes home.

     So, Tom goes home.

     He scuttled home climbing fences, jumping ditches, and slithering through bushes. Reaching his backyard, Tom flopped down by the tree where a fresh mound of dirt covered his friend.

     “Hey Christopher, I got you some watermelon,” Tom ripped off a bit of the watermelon, dribbled the juice over the dirt, and pushed the fruit deep into the pile.

     The leaves played a shadow song on the blades of grass. Light and dark tinkled through the air—a visual wind chime. Tom looked up and saw a tiny human-like thing fluttering in time with the music.

     “Hi, I’m Lucinda,” she sang. “Let’s go on an adventure.”

TOM THINKS HE IS DREAMING.

TOM FOLLOWS LUCINDA

So, sometimes I get offended Part 1

This isn’t nor shouldn’t be news to anyone who has ever met me. Yes, I get offended quite easily. I would prefer those around me not to use derogatory words or actions. Usually, I open a dialogue as to why I have those feelings and how the two of us can come to an understanding. Less often, I snap and speak harshly toward another human.

This writing is the first step toward opening a dialogue discussing how language usage, gender norms, and behavior can create change. Knowledge is the first step toward social inclusivity, which strives to provide a space for all humans to feel safe. I do this in several ways: reflecting on my language and its effects on the listener; researching gender, queer, and sexual spectrums to best comprehend those around me; and incorporating this language and research into behavior that supports and respects humans regardless of ability, gender, or sexuality.

Language Usage

I can assume that if you are reading this, you are a human and use language to communicate. Your expressions may look, sound, or feel different from mine, but we all use them to express needs, wants, and emotions. Because I am only fluent in English, I will use that as my platform. In this section, I want to discuss several words, phrases, or connotations that really grind my gears. When I hear these words, I look at the person who said it, and usually ask, “Is that word the best choice to describe what you’re really feeling?” Or, “There are hundreds of thousands of words in this language. Is that the most thoughtful one you can come up with?” Or, seldom, “Your ignorance annoys me. Choose a different word.” These words span ability, gender, and sexuality. Every human has a right to feel safe in conversations and discussions.

A.    Retarded: I have pioneered for this word to be taken out of everyday vernacular for longer than I can remember. It has become a colloquial term for anything or any person that is not up to the speaker’s expectation. Basically, it suggests that humans with non-traditional learning abilities are “less than.” There is the argument that, “everyone uses it that way. It has lost the negative connotation, so it doesn’t matter anymore.” It hasn’t lost its negative connotations; there is often a note of derision when used. It does matter. By allowing this term, we look over the marginalization of a particular group of humans based solely on ability over which they have no control.

B.    Pussy and Man Up: As in, “Jeez, don’t be a pussy. Man up.” I’ve just started changing my use of this word due to an enlightened conversation with a friend of mine. Let’s just be clear; pussy is slang for vagina. By saying, “Don’t be a pussy,” one makes a lot of assumptions about vaginas and those who have them. It proposes that vaginas or females are beneath their male counterparts. It is like saying, “Oh, you’re scared? You must be a woman,” which sets up dangerous gender expectations for our future. In a separate, but equally important vein, “Man up” is derogatory to both men and women. It gives the listener a very clear idea of expectations for men, and what they must do to be a “man.” It also suggests that only men can be strong in both a physical or emotional way, and women cannot attain that strength. Ever.

C.    Dick: This is my newest one yet! I was talking with some folks on Saturday and it dawned on me that I can’t campaign for inclusive language that only targets my gender, orientation, or ability. Just as “pussy” declares that women are weaker than men, “dick” perpetuates the idea that humans with a penis are rude, impatient, or generally bad people. That is just a bold-faced lie. I have met at least one man-type human who wasn’t like that. 

D.   Fag or Dyke: It seems almost silly that I need to reiterate that this slur is hurtful and still very offensive. Often, hate drips from these words used to cause pain or condemn someone. In some countries, governments (e.g. Sudan, Brunei) enacted laws stating that death is the most suitable punishment for homosexuals. In many others, queer people continue to be second class citizens within the legal system. Conversely, some people use fag or dyke as an endearing term. This opens a discussion of reclamation, which suggests that people within the targeted minority group (e.g. homosexual men and women) can take a slur and use it in a positive way to show empowerment. I take umbrage with this because it greys the line between who can and cannot toss it about, “I’m not gay, but I’m an ally. I am showing solidarity in reclaiming it.” In my opinion, one cannot reclaim what was never theirs.

This is not meant to infringe your freedom of speech. You are welcome to use whatever words or phrases suit you. However, I would invite you to think deeply about your word choice. Imagine whom it affects or has affected. I encourage you to move gaily forward in your own discussions of language and inclusivity. Of course, if you have any questions or comments about any terms or ideas in this, please feel free to contact me.

Coming next: thoughts on gender norms and inclusive behavior.

So, here’s looking at the moon, Sister

I have been a wee bit out of sorts for the past two months, and my writing has been straight out of an acid washed, tape bound composition notebook circa 2004. I had a deadline in my brain when I woke up this morning that by the time I go to sleep, I will have produced something to post on the bloggity blog.

When I got home, I was all rarin’ to go on some recent feminist issue: a silver tongued soap box declaration of human rights. Rah rah rah. And, trust me. That will come in time. But, in my Skype conversations with my sister, I realize that there are more important things than pushing my incredibly biased agenda on you unsuspecting folks at home.

This past week, my sister, an elementary school music teacher (among a million other really awesome things), had a choir concert. As she was preparing for it, she told me about the theme and how excited she was to do “A Night at the Theatre.” All throughout high school, our house rang with show tunes and theatrical responses to paltry issues. I was eager to hear how the show went.

After a short conversation (technology did that thing that it stopped working at the exact moment you’d like it to work), she sent me an email with some videos of her concert. She said, “Check out…video one for a little surprise.” Right before “Somewhere Out There” from Fieval Goes West, she made an announcement to the audience about how for siblings, she only has me, her little sister, who currently lives in South Korea. And, we only can talk on Skype, but sometimes we say, “I’m looking at the moon, Sister” because when we’re both looking at the same moon, it seems like the distance isn’t so far.

And, that right there is the point of this. Of all of this. Distance in time and space when gauged by the  moon seems so minuscule, so silly. The same moon was there before I was born. It’s there now. It will continue after I depart this earth.  

Under this ubiquitous moon, my sister loved me before I was a feminist, before I was a teacher, before I was strong. She loved me through my terrible twos, my codependent eights, that awkward summer when I was 13 with braces, glasses, and a broken arm.  That awkward summer when I was 22 with…ummm…that awkward summer when I was 22. And, sometime between Backstreet Boys, pogs, and hair dye the bond changed from loving each other because "Mom said" to loving each other because we chose it.

The same moon that shown over us in our childhood, still peeks his head out now. He watches over us as we continue to grow—a constant charge in our ever evolving lives. And, I’m not sayin’ that because I live in the future I know all the things, I’m just sayin’ that I know that the world doesn’t end today. The sun rises with her as the moon rises with me. Tonight, though, it’s just a sliver, a bow shooting memories across the sky.