Anne

I don’t know you,

but I’ve read your diary.

I picked it up

at eleven years old–

four years younger

than you.

 

I don’t know you,

not really.

I know about you,

your likes and dislikes,

your family and friends,

the place you lived,

your words,

but a person is more.

You left this world

long before I came to it

with millions of others

killed by hate,

just like you.

 

I sat in an empty classroom

devouring the words you left.

Abruptly,

the words ran out.

I don’t know you,

but I’ve mourned you.

 

I’m older than you now

filled more diaries

than you ever will.

I’m still as confused

by your loss

as I was then.

The world should be better

should be kinder.

I don’t know you,

but I know this:

You should have lived.

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On Meeting Your Heroes

Here’s the thing about heroes: they’re people. They have people’s desires and exhaustions and flaws. They can be good people, often, but people all the same. No one on this planet is Superman, even if I still think of my dad that way sometimes (I blame his love of Smallville).

I try to keep that in mind whenever I have the chance to meet someone I admire, whether for their voice or creativity or uncommonly kind heart. Heroes are people. People are flawed. Both of these things can be true, no those we consider our personal heroes can still be worthy of respect.

Last month, I had the opportunity to meet David Archuleta before one of his concerts. He’s one of those people I respect, for his integrity and for the messages he works to share through his music. During the concert, he introduced one of the songs with some commentary on social media.

He pointed out that on the internet, people usually only share the things about their lives that they are happy with-the good selfies, the weekends spent with friends, not the time spent on makeup or the quiet nights in.

I think this filtering of information is also in effect when it comes to our heroes. Parents don’t usually tell their children about their doubts and struggles as they raise them. Creative people share their successes far more readily than they do their weeks of struggling to come up with an idea. Emergency responders don’t tell the people they’re rescuing about the times they didn’t get there soon enough.

This can be good. I, for one, am not even slightly interested in seeing everyone’s dirty laundry.

But it can lead to the impression that heroes aren’t ordinary People Like Us, and that’s just inaccurate. Heroes are ordinary. They have favorite foods and bad habits and toothbrushes, same as me and probably you, dear reader.

Which leads to the conclusion that any of us can be heroes for someone.

The Order of Things

Patterns show up everywhere

Like electrons orbiting protons and neutrons

that form moons

orbiting planets

orbiting stars.

Like plants

producing

mathematically perfect spirals.

Like the rhythm of songs

the variations of sound waves

the walk of birds

(Utahraptors walked like chickens

my yard is full

of feathered dinosaurs).

Like my family

calling me by my brother’s name

even when he’s in a different state

and I’m in a skirt.

Like the structure of stories

told again and again

in different skins.

Like the rhythm of rainfall.

 

There’s a comfort to that.

Everything has a design,

a pattern,

though it may not be obvious

to human eyes.

Gratitude

Things I am grateful for:

1. Freedom of speech. It would be difficult to make awesome things without it. The rest of the Bill of Rights goes here too.

2. Dumbo octopuses

3. Mythology, folklore, and fairy tales. Some fairy tales are more than six thousand years old, and still told today!

4. Brains. It would be hard to live without them.

5. Water. I grew up in a desert. Rivers still blow my mind.

6. That while I may occasionally find lizards on my bed, I will never find a satanic leaf-tailed gecko there unexpectedly. Meeting one while knowing I was going to meet one might be fun, though.

7. Duct tape. I once won brownies in a duct-tape craft contest. Later I made my prom dress from duct tape. Duct tape is good.

8. Vision. My eyes mostly see fuzzy shapes and colors without glasses or contacts, so I am very grateful to live in a time when those are available.

9. Shoes. Especially high tops. And low tops. And combat boots.

10. This photo Juno took of Jupiter’s south pole.

11. Star Wars.

12. Cool apps like Amaziograph, which I used to draw today’s picture.

Things I am not grateful for:

1. Violence.

2. Wasps.

3. People who think yelling at you will make you agree with them.

4. Yelling in general.

5. The fact that Captain America got turned into a Nazi in the comics. Seriously?!

6. Those little prickly seed pods that stick to EVERYTHING.

7. My attention span going AWOL when I’m trying to learn something cool.

8. Lots of other things. I’m trying to shorten this list and lengthen the previous one, though.

The Scorpion in the Sky

This is an old story. A brash hunter. An infuriated deity. And a monster.
What the crime was and which deity was infuriated, depends on who’s telling the story.

The hunter, Orion, stays the same, though. As does the monster–Scorpius.

Supposedly, their final battle was so destructive that the gods feared putting them both in the Underworld, where they might keep fighting. Instead, they were placed in the sky, as constellations, on opposite sides of the heavenly sphere. You will never see Orion and Scorpio in the sky at the same time. That was deliberate, so they cannot fight anymore.
Watching Scorpius’s heart flicker as he rises in the evenings, I wonder about him. Was he created just to kill Orion? Did he start out as one of the many monsters wandering about Greek myths? How did Artemis (or Apollo, or Gaea) get him to cooperate? Did he have some specific grudge against Orion to begin with?

This is an old story. It’s been told and retold thousands of times, the details altered or faded or lost to living memory. If Scorpius was ever anything other than the weapon that killed Orion, we have no way of knowing. He got the short end of the narrative–no characterization, no motivations, just a capacity for violence and a target. Like the Winter Soldier, sans tragic backstory.

Writing protip: figure out what drives your villains. You don’t have to reference it specifically, you don’t have to make it a sympathetic drive, but figuring out why a bad guy acts as they do is the first step towards believable characterization.

Scorpius doesn’t have that, right now. But, myths don’t have a copyright. We can fill in the details ourselves, if we think to.

Say the deity was Artemis, and that Orion’s crime was more than boasting. Say she turned to an old friend for aid-perhaps she had slain a greater monster than Scorpius, saving his life. He would have gladly hunted Orion, to right a wrong and repay a debt.

Or say it was Apollo, envious of Orion’s rising star (pun completely intended) and his friendship with Artemis, who turned up in his lair and took Scorpius’s mate or hatchlings hostage. He would have fought fiercely then, if it was in hopes of saving a loved one.

Or Gaea, Earth Mother, seeking to protect her creatures from the mighty hunter, went to Scorpius for help. As one of her creatures, he gave it.

Or say Scorpius was a monster, and did what monsters do, and it was only because someone whispered a suggestion to him, or claimed Orion had insulted him, that he became so focused on the hunter.

All or none of these backgrounds may be applied to the myths, with varying degrees of effectiveness.

This is an old story. We can’t know what its original tellers intended for it, or for Scorpius, to mean. We can only know what it means for us, now.

A Thought and a Song

It’s been my habit, from a very early age, to focus most of my attentions on music that was slightly melancholy.  Not sure why. Maybe I like minor keys. Maybe all the happy songs were about sappy romances, which I’ve never been interested in. Maybe I’m just morbid. The songs don’t make me sad when I listen to them, really. I just like them.

Sometimes, though, the world is a touch more awful than usual, and I just want to listen to something upbeat and happy. I made a music playlist for just such an occasion, and thought I’d share it here.

The most recent addition to the playlist is “Invincible” by David Archuleta, which came out last week.

Invincible is, despite its title, about not being invincible. It’s about going through hard times without allowing yourself to become hard.

We live in what future historians will likely call an “interesting time”. There are so many changes going on, so much conflict.  But there are a lot of good things too, and remembering that, as the song suggests, is its own type of strength.

How to be a Star Wars Villain

So, you’ve finally figured out a career you want to pursue. Congratulations. It’s about time; you’re graduating in the next couple weeks and your family has been nagging you about what you’re going to be for years.

It’s a good career for you. The money’s good, the hours aren’t awful, and you get to wear a snazzy outfit. It’s something that allows you to act how you’ve always secretly wanted to, but been prevented by society.

You are going to be a Star Wars villain.

You probably already have your evil name picked out, and have started on the long application process, but you’ll need advice. This is the place for it. For starters–keeping a running total of the ants you’ve stepped on? Not impressive. Keep that information far away from your resume.

Here are a few tips for how to act once you get the job.

1. Call everyone you don’t like scum.

This is very important. Even if you haven’t yet had the screen time to show by your actions how evil you are, if you call people scum, your audience will get the hint. Rebel scum. Jedi scum. Scavenger scum. Person-who-butters-their-toast-Wrong scum. Everyone can be scum, except for you and your underlings. Not that your underlings will have an easy time of things, of course.

2. Kill people who don’t need killing.

Not because you don’t see them as people. You have to know they’re people, and kill them like moths. Kill all the villagers who happen to be near you. Kill any underlings who make mistakes, however innocent or unavoidable. Kill some planets while you’re at it. And if someone is needed for plot purposes later on? Don’t kill them. Torture them. For absolutely no reason, of course. How is anyone to know how evil you are if you aren’t sowing senseless carnage everywhere?

3. Make yourself seem less than human.

Unless they are a budding young villain like yourself, no one wants to think themselves capable of the things you do. So distance yourself from the audience. Be a cyborg, because that isn’t rude to amputees everywhere. Get some really noticeable scars. If you’re cursed enough to be attractive, wear a scary mask. Be careful not to take it off, though, or viewers might start to think you’re jus misunderstood. And whatever you do, do not make any reference to a tragic backstory. Your childhood was perfect, understand?

Follow these guidelines, and you may just become a worthwhile villain, one you audience will love to hate and cheer for the death of. Oh. Erm…maybe set your affairs in order before you start.