Hello! My name is Alex. This is the blog where I'll put my writing! Many of my pieces are train of thought type pieces, my opinions on things. Occasionally I might post experts of fiction writing. Whatever I feel like at the moment!
hello everyone, I wanted to introduce my fantasy book. I'm writing a freaky-friday esque book, where three kids are playing in the woods when they fall through a fairy ring and swap bodies with themselves as fae. I'll be posting character descriptions on here and some details of the story :)
hello everyone, I wanted to introduce my fantasy book. I'm writing a freaky-friday esque book, where three kids are playing in the woods when they fall through a fairy ring and swap bodies with themselves as fae. I'll be posting character descriptions on here and some details of the story :)
I think it's kind of wild how many people simply don't believe there's other intelligent life out there. You mean to tell me in the vast expanse of our universe, over hundreds of galaxies, that not one of them has a planet like ours with life on it? How idiotic. I'm not one of those people that believes aliens built the pyramids, or that they're little green creatures living in area 51. I simply think that it's egotistical not to believe in other intelligent life out there. Plus, when you factor in the fact that When we look at other planets, we're really seeing them from thousands or millions of years ago, we can't really verify that they haven't developed life. Hopefully one day we will discover that we're not alone in this vast universe. But until then, I'll keep dreaming of a life on another planet, or a Star-Trek esque future of harmony.
I think it's interesting how we as a community on Tumblr often document our struggles. It's like our own little diaries, blasted off into the universe, forever imprinted onto the state of the internet. Why do we do that? Is it to garner sympathy? Is it to ask for help? Is it simply to vent, to get those emotions out of our head, onto paper, onto something other than our minds? I really want to know. I'm a psychology student, so the underlying causes of suffering is an especially intriguing topic for me. I want to know why humans struggle, and when they choose to or not to reach out for help, what caused them to make that decision. What as humans causes us to send our thoughts out into the void, like a drop into the lake, hoping for a friend?
This is not to say that I'm against it. I think it's beautiful that Tumblr is a blogging site where people can vent their frustrations, they can tell their stories, and they can know what others feel and know they're not alone. It's awe-inspiring. Reaching out, even one finger, can be enough to pull someone from a very dark place. Never think you're alone. Someone is always there.
I've always been so jealous of cutie marks. A big honking sign taped to your body that tells you what your true passion in life is. Wouldn't that make life so easy? When I was younger, and still into the H*rry P*tter series, I also was intruiged by the boggart. I want to know what my biggest fear is! I want to have all of these magical signs to pop up and tell me what I don't know about myself. Wouldn't that make life so much easier?
Of course, that takes away the fun of self-exploration. Taking the time to soul-search, to truly sit with oneself and learn how your body yearns, how it reacts, how your soul ebbs and flows. It's amazing. Taking that away would take away your human-ness. Where's the fun in that? I don't know. Sometimes I wish that life had a little video game screen. You have narrowly escaped death 12 times. You are allergic to 3 fruits. Stuff like that. Everyone wants things to be a little easier, right?
I think that the wide range of human behavior is fascinating. Even from the beginning we specialized with roles, dividing tasks and specializing in our own areas. Now there's an even wider area of opportunity, with hundreds of college degrees or apprenticeships that every budding adult gets to select from. It's fascinating. In just one of my college classes there are majors ranging from construction management, to finance and business, to humanities degrees like sociology. Everyone gets their own little box to fill with their interests and specialties. In our modern world, the average teen has millions of different lives they can live. Sure, there are limiting factors such as cost and location, but the possibilities are sure to excite. A richer teen has the whole world at their feet. When cost isn't prohibitive, we see many people drawn to art. Why is that? W have art saved from every era of human life, from the very beginning. We love art so much, we train animals like elephants to do it! Humans love art. Countless museums across the globe are filled with centuries of art. I love visiting old art pieces, seeing how creative ancient humans are. My favorite is to compare depictions of the human figure. Analyzing how the ideal self has changed is fascinating. Once, when I was in a museum in Greece, I found a statue of Aphrodite that was shaped exactly like me. I almost cried. The goddess of beauty, looking like me? What an honor.
I think that the most self-shaping experience I had as a child was about books. I was a hyperlexic child, reading chapter books before I started Kindergarten. When I was in elementary school, over half of the library was roped off, only for the older students. I was fully capable of reading those books, but they weren't granted to me until I was older. When I finally achieved my dream of being set free in a library, one book series shaped the rest of my childhood. Warrior Cats, by Erin Hunter, was a huge piece of my development. I read the full series voraciously, absorbing every sentence into my core. It was a popular series among my entire friend group, and we ended up creating our own world of cats on the playground at recess. We all chose names following the naming conventions of the cats in the books- two words of nature. The books follow cats named Firestar, Graypelt, and Tigerclaw, among others, and we all wanted in on the action. My name was Rosepelt, eventually upgraded to Rosestar, a suffix reserved only for the clan leader. We would run around under the shade of a big oak tree, collecting acorns and pine cones as our "prey". Each of us took turns as all the roles in the clan. Medicine cat, clan leader, hunter, even mother. It was a fully involved fantasy. A friend and I even wrote down some of our adventures, forever immortalized in my Google Drive. "The Adventures of Sparkleflair and Rosepelt", we called it. When we were older, the same friend made me a mask and tail that matched the design of my cat persona. I still have both, hanging in my closet at home.
I can't imagine what my life would be without that book series. Far duller, I'm sure. It broke my heart to learn that Erin Hunter wasn't a real person, but a collection of ghostwriters under a pen name. The books and comics continue to be released to this day, fueling another generation of cat lovers. It's been a long time since I picked up one of those books, but I can still recount the story of that first book as if I wrote it myself. It may be far out of my reading level now, but I would still pick it up and tear through it in a day, given a chance. It was a big part of my childhood, and I wouldn't want it any other way. It helped me learn about community, life, and even learn how to handle death. It's a series built for children to learn how to manage conflict, build community, and learn the basics of life, all from the perspective of an orange cat.
This is something that I struggle with when I write stories, fanfic, whatever. I always end up with a very dialogue-heavy story. This is something I don't know an easy solution to, either. I try to balance it out with breaks to describe the scene, but then it always ends up messy and unbalanced. If anyone has advice, much appreciated. Maybe I should become a playwright. That's a lot of dialogue, right?
Growing up as a young undiagnosed but decidedly mentally ill teen, I was surrounded by a wide variety of opinions on mental health treatment. I had friends on a wide variety of psychiatric medication, or none at all. I knew friends with horror stories of the local psych wards, which only further put me off being upfront about my issues. The era was rife with jokes about how meds make you “lose your sparkle”, further stigmatizing those who sought psychiatric treatment. I have a vivid memory of being 14, and after tearfully confessing to my mother that I thought I had ADHD, she told me that all I needed to do was ‘find ways to work with my brain’, and that if she could live life without meds, so could I. Well, I tried that for my first 18 years. Now I’m on an ADHD medication, Focalin. And you know what? I don’t need brain cheat codes! I can simply sit down and be productive without arguing with my brain for hours. I can get my laundry done before it becomes a towering pile. I don’t have to fight through layers of executive dysfunction to get things done. The main argument I hear against psychiatric medication is that you won’t be yourself anymore. On the contrary, antidepressants have made me who I am. I don’t have the fight through depressive episodes or bouts of low energy to participate in my own life. I’m happy, I’m free, I’m uninhibited by my depression.
Some things are intuitive to human nature. For as long as humans have been a species, we’ve carried traditions with us. Stories told around a campfire, a drawing painted on a wall. Humans yearn for creativity. It’s been long observed in our increasingly capitalistic, money-driven society that in the absence of need, we turn to art. Children of the well-to-do often forsake the family business in favor of art or music. They aren’t constrained by the obligation to provide for themselves, concerned about salary or security, because they have a safety net. They’re then free to pursue personal freedom. Schoolchildren with a free minute to spare, or an ever-wandering mind, fill the margins of their notebooks with doodles. Art is the way of society. The soul of a community lies in their stories. Folk tales, legends, superstitions, they hold the very spirit of society. Art is an integral part of life.
I think about death a lot. I think a healthy confrontation with your own morality is good for you every now and again. Ignorance and disgust only leads to abandonment of family in their vulnerable times and fear of your own aging process. America's own stigma surrounding death is new, and somewhat unique to more “developed and modern” civilizations. Even 100 years ago, preparation and mourning of a dead body was done in the comfort of one's own home. The idea of commercialized death is relatively new. In some cultures, people will preserve and take care of a loved one’s body long after their soul passes. Hispanic cultures take the other side, revering and communicating with the spirits of loved ones with ofrendas and the observation of Dia de Los Muertos. The cultural respect for dead loved ones comforts those approaching death.
However, in American culture, I find the opposite to often be true. Ghosts are built in pop culture as spooky, demonic creatures, left on the earth for revenge. Cemeteries are creepy, hold your breath while we drive past! Don’t go near there at night, you’ll get possessed, get attacked, you’ll become one with them. Death is used as a fear mongering statistic, a real life version of the chilling Grim Reaper we check for behind every curtain and corner. TV, from fantasy to news, is filled with gore and death, another gruesome end. Car crash, shooting, ad break! The never ending tumble through scary ways to die, new threats to your well being. I think we could learn a lot from spirituality. Respect for the dead should be a priority when discussing these topics. I’m not saying you have to sleep with your grandmother’s mummy next to you every night, but perhaps we shouldn’t treat death as this spectacle, some jump scare for the morning news, some piece of juicy gossip for your podcast. Death should be respected, and the dead should be treated with respect.
Social media is filled with war, sickness, and debts. Fear of what could be, what you could be going through right now if you were them. Especially in election cycles, every photo and video is another scare tactic to convert you to a belief style. He said, she did, they hate you. Life has gotten so filled with hate, with vitriolity, with shame. Moms are shamed for parenting choices. Kids are shamed for “silly” interests. Girls are shamed for their bodies, their clothes, their lives. Everyone is policed by their enemies masquerading as good-natured friends, just trying to reach out and “offer a suggestion”. Judgment is passed by strangers you’ve never met and will never see. Split second decisions, quick fingers and a lack of impulse control can create a dangerous combination that devolves into bullying.
The lack of eye contact holds so much power, confidence in the choice to send out demeaning comments, knowledge that you’re free of consequences. It’s just pixels on a screen, right? Cowardice, keyboard warriors hiding behind a monitor like a shield, hoping no one will know they’re a bully online. Sure, you’ll say that in your 140 character Instagram comment, but does that confidence hold when you have to be face to face to your target? When you two are eye-to-eye? Seeing the consequences of your actions in real time? Suddenly it’s not just snickering behind a phone screen, a high five from your bro for “totally owning that chick”. It’s a real girl your sister’s age. A woman your mother’s age. Now they’re real people. Another person’s life. You affect them. Your words have a notable impact now. Do you feel shame? Embarrassment? Fear? Empathy for the person you see? What if your mom knew how you talked to strangers like that. When you were a kid, and you called a girl a whore, you’d get your mouth washed out with soap. There isn’t enough soap in the world to cleanse your hands from the vile texts, your brain from the rhetoric you’ve convinced and trained yourself to believe is what makes you “macho”, makes you look cool. Fear, that’s what you create.
Any man can be a predator. Any footsteps in the dark can be a kidnapper. Little girls are raised learning that keys between your fingers will work like brass knuckles, that a ponytail can make you easier to grab. Don’t show off your body, don’t walk alone, don’t go out in the dark. Why were you drinking? You tempted him. How can you blame him when you act like that? You’re such a tease. He just likes you. If you give him a real chance, and then say no, he’ll leave you alone. Just give him a chance. Well, you played into his feelings! You’re such a manipulator. You played with his feelings. Why do you care? Did you still like it? It’s been so long, why do you still care? You’re going to ruin his reputation. You need to be responsible for keeping yourself safe. No you can’t carry around pepper spray. Why do you need self-defense classes? You’re so paranoid. You’re to blame for what happens to you. Remember what we talk about. Don’t yell for help, yell fire. If you call for help, no one will come.
Not all men they say. But how do you choose which ones aren’t “those kind”? Men don’t carry around billboards painted saying “not a predator” over their head. You never know if the guy at the bar has an ex who has a restraining order against him for domestic violence, the boy next to you in that math class thinks it’s fun to slip something in a girl’s drink to make her “easier”. Your dad’s friend has been around for 30 years, he’d never hurt a fly! That’s just boys being boys. He only hits you, pulls your hair, calls you names, just because he likes you! Don’t be a bitch. Come on, let him have some fun. Not too much fun, you slut. I can't believe you’d let him do that to you, what will your future husband say? You’ve ruined yourself. You’re broken, you’re no longer pure. You’ll never be whole for a man. You’re your father’s property until you get married, then you belong to your husband. Man of the house, he is. Awe, daddy’s away? I’m so glad your 6 year old could step out and be the man of the house this week! What a stud, taking charge. He’s going to do so many great things. He’s such a ladies man! What a player, he’s just a kid. Oh, her? No, she’s fast. She’s easy, she’s loose. She’s a slut, a whore, a tease. She should be focusing on finding a ring, a husband, not a degree. Women belong in the kitchen, in the home, cleaning, birthing children. There is no greater goal for a woman to pursue than being a mother. Why would you care about anything else? Children are so fulfilling. I can’t believe she had a kid at 16. She’s so irresponsible, she doesn’t know what she wants yet.
Birthdays are different for everyone. Lots of people are very happy, basking in the shower of attention. Others see it as a sad marker of time passed unwisely. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to look at your birthday. Even if it is sad, it’s a good time to stop and reflect on your life, and check in with yourself. What are you doing? How has your life changed over the past year? How do you plan on continuing or reversing that change? Are you on the path you want to be? If not, is there a way to switch tracks? Maybe your life didn’t change much. Maybe you’re content with that. Maybe you aren’t. Ups and downs are inevitable over the course of a year. That’s life. But, if you spend your life worrying about your failures, it’s hard to see the good. There can be bad in the good and good in the bad. You’ve got to find a balance. Being able to see the whole picture puts things into perspective. Are you blowing a little flaw in your life into a big problem? We always do at some point. It’s helpful for me to get a second opinion. Even just voicing my concerns out loud, putting them into written or spoken words, helps me see the true scale of the issue. When you get too far into your own head, you don’t think rationally. You spiral. You panic. Externalizing that emotion helps you cope. It feels like you’re not in it alone. It’s not solely your issue to bear. We hear a lot, often told to mothers, that it “takes a village”. I don’t think that village should disappear the moment the clock strikes midnight on your 18th birthday. Having a good support system is crucial for quality of life. A friend to lean on, someone who will lend a truck when you’re moving or a couch to crash on for the night, is so much more important than a fancy friendship you slap a filter on to impress Instagram followers. If it’s not benefiting you, it’s not worth the energy it’s draining from you.
Growing up in the early 2000s and 2010s, I was surrounded by an ever-changing world of tolerance. Gay marriage wasn’t legalized until I was 10. Religious judgement was at an all-time high after the attacks on 9/11. Body image, clothing modesty, and body positivity were ever-evolving in a world where technology and social media kept everyone on their toes. Even in a time proclaimed by many to be tolerant and free, judgement and restrictions continue to rise. The 2000s were spent shaming a woman for being anything more than stick-thin, and now those sentiments hide under layers of protests that plus-size fashion is so much more expensive to make and arguments about the healthiness of being overweight. Fat isn’t a dirty word, but plus-size celebrities are constantly put down for not being thin, rather than judged for their talent. When someone wants to argue that someone is a bad person, negative physical characteristics are a go-to, rather than the person’s actions. Dress code fights flooding the news in the 2010s, body positivity warring for the spotlight with fad diets and the latest weight loss drug. Men who took care of themselves were labeled as “metrosexual”, men who didn’t give girls the “ick”. If women follow social fashion trends they’re shallow, basic, and materialistic, but if you don’t you’re a pick-me who’s just trying to stand out and get attention. Alternative dress is demonic, just a phase, or labels someone a suicide risk. People who wear old and secondhand clothes are poor and dirty, but thrifting is chic and a great side hustle! Sell your old clothes on the latest marketplace app for far more than it’s worth! Wearing your clothes until they’re tattered is sustainable and good for the environment, you’re fighting against fast fashion! But your clothes are old and out of trend? How cringe… Fast fashion is cheap and good for if you’re on a budget, but if you buy it you support child labor and the destruction of the environment. Buy from big-label, more expensive brands who hide their exploitation of poor countries a little better.