Showing posts with label philadelphia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philadelphia. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Boys vs. Girls...with Bullets?

Boys have cooties... but seriously...
The mass shooting in Isla Vista has me disturbed. 
Deeply.

A woman looks at bullet holes Saturday in the window of IV Deli Mart where part of Friday night’s mass shooting took place in Isla Vista, Calif. AP/Jae C. Hong
 
Relax, my more conservative, American friends, I'm not going to go into my usual "we should have reasonable gun safety measures in place" rant. This, despite the facts pointing out that in England, last year, there were shootings in the double digits....meanwhile in Philadelphia, last week, there were also shootings in the double digits. Which means that  either gun control laws are effective, or British people couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. You decide.

No, what has upset my soul more than usual is the deeply misogynistic  motive behind the shootings and the fact that there is a culture in America that supports it.
From the time we are in first grade and play "Boys vs Girls" games on the playground our differences can go from making us cooperative and playful to competitive and sadly, violent.

I've been reading quite a bit about the incident and letting all the information marinate since it happened.  Obviously, as an intelligent, thinking woman I'm offended by the so-called "Pick Up Artist" (PUA) community and their ignorant, entitled idea that women were put on this earth to be available to any man in any capacity, regardless of that man's particular merit (or lack thereof). The level of sheer douchebaggery is staggering.  What is equally disturbing is that the shooter belonged to an online community that labeled itself 'PUA-Hate', meaning these are men disenfranchised from the PUA movement.  One look at their websites immediately reveals that these men aren't upset at the lies and attempted manipulation by these so called pick up artists. (Side note: their tactics would only be effective on very young girls with self esteem issues) These PUA-Haters are upset because those tactics DIDN'T WORK. That's it.  Literally: " Boohoo, I didn't get laid by the hot girl." Swear to God, I'm not making this up. Google it. 

I will grant you that the gunman was mentally disturbed.  It would be easy to dismiss his actions as that of a solitary, fringe lunatic. But the systematic programming and thinking that fueled his rage was neither solitary nor fringe.  Laurie Penny stated it well in her excellent article in New Statesman:

"The ideology behind these attacks—and there is ideology—is simple. Women owe men. Women, as a class, as a sex, owe men sex, love, attention, “adoration,” in Rodger’s words. We owe them respect and obedience, and our refusal to give it to them is to blame for their anger, their violence—stupid sluts get what they deserve. Most of all, there is an overpowering sense of rage and entitlement: the conviction that men have been denied a birthright of easy power.
Capitalism commodifies that rage, monetizes it, disseminates it through handbooks and forums and crass mainstream pornography. It does not occur to these men that women might have experienced these very human things, too, because it does not occur to them that women are human, not really. Women are prizes to be caught and used or hags to be harassed or, occasionally, both.
Violent extremism always attracts the lost, the broken, young men full of rage at the hand they’ve been dealt. Violent extremism entices those who long to lash out at a system they believe has cheated them, but lack they courage to think for themselves, beyond the easy answers they are offered by peddlers of hate. Misogynist extremism is no different. For some time now misogynist extremism has been excused, as all acts of terrorism committed by white men are excused, as an aberration, as the work of random loons, not real men at all. The pattern is repeatedly denied: these are the words and actions of the disturbed."
Misogynistic extremism, and the hate crime that has resulted, are no different than the hate crimes of the KKK and other supremacist groups, or the killing of Matthew Shepherd in Laramie.
 I'm noticing a trend here.
These things happen as sweeping cultural advances are happening; advances that are crumbling, little by little, the white, male patriarchy in America. We may very well elect a woman president in a couple of years. We have already elected a black man to the Presidency. Marriage equality is rapidly becoming the law of the land. These are the last gasps of a dying patriarchy that has long held a stranglehold on the rest of us.  Much like a toddler screams the loudest right before he falls asleep.

(Sidenote: I love the people who say "Why can't we go back to the 1950's, when everything was easier, and more wholesome. The good old days."  Please. The 50's in America were awesome if you were a straight, white male. They pretty much sucked for everyone else. )

Here's the thing: the culture change needn't be scary. The pendulum must swing. The Universe demands balance. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The all-male God has ruled and now the Goddess demands her due. A culture of community, nurture, an abhorrence for war, a value of all people without one dominating the other, these are divine feminine principles.
It's about time.

The strongest of men welcome the strength of their women. I know, I raised one.
Men needn't owe their masculinity to driving down another human. 
My son knows this. All "real men" know this.

Boys, however, have cooties. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

So...Writers Write....Right?

Well hello there!
I know...I know.... I've been maintaining radio silence for way too long..... 
Ever since my brilliant friend Dave Ebersole and I declared 2013 to be "The Year Of Manifesting" (i.e. Publishing!) things have been alternately moving at light speed and getting roadblocked. 
It's truly been feast or famine.


I spent the first part of the year rewriting and performing in "Bad Cupid Cabaret" and writing my play "A Long, Long Way from Home". I was fortunate to have a staged reading in March at the Shubin Theatre, here in Philadelphia, featuring some of the finest actors in the area.  It was well received and I got valuable feedback . 
Feast!
And then my whole creative machine shut down. 


Oh, I did the kind of writing/editing that pays the bills. You know, cleaning up web content and making it pretty, etc. But I was not writing. 
 
I. Was. Not. Writing.
Not a word.
No morning pages.
No journal entries.
No stories
No plays.
No songs.
No nothin'.
It was excruciating.

Famine.


I diverted my focus caring for small children, cooking wonderful meals for my fella, getting a part time gig at a cosmetics store, supporting my fella in his budding acting career, spending way too much time on Facebook.... but I was not writing. Not MY writing, anyway.
Oh, hell and damnation!
I was blocked. 
Now what?

"Let it Go" - The Art of Surrender

Years ago, my BFF and songwriting partner, Mick Loro and I wrote a song called "Let It Go". The song was about surrender. Not the kind of surrender that says "I give up"; but rather the kind of surrender that says "I'm just going to show up, be present and let my obstacles be removed. I'm going to get out of my own head and be there for someone else, for the work, for whatever my soul calls for me to do, and let the results take care of themselves." My favorite line from that song goes: "Come, dance with me... there is great strength in 'we'..."

I needed to forget about "how" things were going to manifest and just get to manifesting. As Oliver Stone says; "Ninety percent of writing is ass + chair."

I had forgotten that. So, about a month ago, I went back to the beginning. I was thinking about my childhood and families in general. Remembering my brother and I listening carefully for how many saints my mother called upon when chastising us, so we would know just how much trouble we were in, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if those saints just started showing up?"  Et Voila! My play "13 Saints", was born. A couple of weeks later, a conversation with a friend spurred an outline for a hilarious children's book series and the feast has begun again.

The upshot of all this is that sometimes our Second Act needs a second act, or a third, fourth or however many are required. There are no quotas on do-overs when you are following your passion. Redirection and refocus is an intelligent part of the process.
Very often all it takes are some very simple (simple not easy) steps to get out of your own way, and avoid the famine altogether.

Like these:

 

Get grateful. Seriously. This step alone is life changing. List 5 things you are grateful for every day. Don't make a mental list. Write them down. I don't know exactly why it works, it just does.

Get consistent. If you're a writer, write, every day. Even if it's complete crap. It's a muscle. It atrophies with disuse. If you're a singer, sing; if you're a painter, paint; if you're a mommy, pour all your energy into creative parenting, if you're a bricklayer, lay some flippin' bricks! You don't get good at something by NOT doing it.


Meditate. That's right, I said meditate. You don't have to go out and study under Deepak Chopra or anything (although, if you have the means, it's not a bad idea). Just spend 15-30 minutes a day getting still.  Be still and listen. Stop texting and listen. Shut your mouth and listen. Stop tweeting and listen. Stop posting on Facebook and listen. Hang up the phone and listen. Be still, and listen. Let the relentless chatter of busy-ness flow out, so something real and inspiring can flow in. You'll be amazed. Promise.

Surrender. You don't have to be religious or spiritual. Just allow for the possibility that maybe, there's something out there bigger than yourself that wants you to succeed as much or more than you do. Just show up for the work and get out of your own way.


It's good to be back.
It's the Second Act of my Second Act.

Here. We. Go.