And then the skies were empty.

I was sleeping when the phone rang. Annoyed at the call I answered as such
" What?"
It was my husband.
" turn on the t.v. "
" why am I turning on the t.v"
" Just do it," So I did. the tower shown in the summer blue sky as smoke poured out.  A plane had hit the tower. The pilot was probably drunk, we joked, how could he not see a building that tall. Wait, there's another... I had no words. We sat in stunned silence as we watched the second tower collide with the buildings, buildings that only a year before had marked for us our arrival on the East coast.  Was there some crazed person in charge at the air traffic control office that day. We still didn't know. Then the report came in about the plane hitting the pentagon. This was an attack. Someone was flying plans into things ON PURPOSE!
" Come home, now"
But he wouldn't, and I had to work. It was all the way in New York, he said, nothings going to happen here.
So I dressed, in black for the loss of life happening so far away about which I could do nothing BUT dress in black, my John Lennon tshirt preaching peace.
                 I was working at a head shop at the time and when I got there there was a line. Everyone wanted whip-its. If you're not keen on drug lingo, whip-its are tiny nitrice oxide charges that, when inhaled from a balloon, cause changes in your visual and physical perception. Apparently someone had discovered that if you did nitrice and watched the images they were showing, and would seemingly never stop showing, you could watch the glass roll like water. I sold over 30 boxes of them that day, and everyone brought me closer and closer to the brink. And then they fell. 3000 miles away people were dying and we stood; my co-worker, the staff from the bar next door, and a handful of customers, and we watched. The firefighters, doing their shopping across the street, were surrounded by other customers in the parking lot. We got word they were trying to get information out of them about what was really going on, but it was a good day and a half before any credible information came out, and not a bit of it was good news.
In those hours, between waking and finally getting home, all I wanted was my husband to be with me, to know that no matter what madness was going on in the world, I had him. And then I would think of the wives whose husbands worked THERE, the wives who would not come home that night, the mothers and fathers who were gone.
                  It wasn't until that night that the initial shock wore off and I could see that those bits of building falling were actually people, that those grey shapes moving away from the building were not part of the smoke, but yet more people running for their lives.
I had friends in the city, and all were safe. Ashley had had the day off after switching with a friend and so she wasn't at the Starbucks down the street from the towers that day, but watching at home like the rest of us. Blake had had the sense to leave work early after the first plane hit, leaving his 103 floor office in the second tower and finding himself half way home when he watched the second plane make its approach.
In the time that followed everyone was afraid. My mother in law urged us not to go to Disneyland because they might do something there, not to fly the following april as even the armed guards that lined the airport halls might not save us. But my husband and I agreed on this; We would not be afraid. They had taken that day to scare the world, to fill us with terror and while there will always be a great weight in my heart for those I watched die that day, they will not win. I had many choice words on the sudden burst of pseudo patriotism, on the way the Administration was using the loss of life to fuel their agenda, and the strange way the buildings fell, but on this day I think only of those who are not here, and those whose hearts are hallow in their absence.
Be you Democrat, Republican, or disenfranchised third party; You are an American, and that day we were as one. Let us grab hold of that feeling, that knowledge that we are all brothers and sister and cousins and never forget that lesson. Let their terror fill us with love and understanding for each other. Let us have peace.

To Boldly Go

In September, 1966 a show aired that would change the face of television and , eventually, the face of technological advancements world wide. Seems a bit far reaching for a campy sci-fi show, I know, but Star Trek , with is cardboard computers and strange aliens would open doors some didn't even know where there to open.

In a tumultuous time, when our streets and newspapers were full of hate and war, Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, envisioned a future where our greatest enemies were far away in space. A future in which the people of this world had overcome their trivial biases, cleaned up our planet and moved forward in the intellectual pursuit of space exploration.  The crew of the Enterprise, while surely facing their share of alien foes, were one people, only human.  The first on screen bi racial kiss happened on the decks of the Enterprise.  A multi racial cast, where in the issue of race came up only through the eyes of the alien crew member Spock, who was ever pointing out the "flaws" of being human, gave inspiration to all Americans, not just the white male ones.

While avoiding the racial issues among their own crew, those on  board faced bigotry as it was through the galaxies,  pointing out the pointlessness of it all through characters with even less reason to hate each other.  A lot of people will only ever see a silly t.v show, but for those of us who really know, Star Trek has long been a stunning example for us all to follow.

Years after the original series had stopped bringing new episodes, as it still did remain on television, a new vision came forth. Into the even more distant future and holding onto the original ideals of the first series, Star Trek: The Next Generation, brought yet more hope.

Not only would humans create a peaceful society, they would bring that peace to even the most volitile of planets.  The Federation of Planets, like some stellar U.N., would help to bring waring planets together, they would banish those that wished harm on lesser beings, women would not only serve on ships, but captain them, they would instill faith and trust into even their youngest crew members because in this world anything is possible. In this future the blind can see and even a man made of latex and wire can feel and love. 

Every time I pick up my cell phone, I see a tricorder and communicator in one.  When I hear of advancements in invisibility technology, I think of those damn Romulans. Gene Roddenberry has returned to the stardust from whence he came, but he has left behind him a golden trail of inspiration. 

Star Trek has inspired the imagination of children, Scientists, engineers and developers and it is my greatest hope that it will continue to do so.

Perhaps if we could get politicians to be likewise inspired we might have hope, hope for a future in which we do boldly go, to seek out new worlds and new civilizations. Live long, and prosper. 

Zen and the art of surviving Motor Vehicle Madness

I was all decked out, sparkly jewelry in place, birthday gift at my side, cruising along the 118 minding my own business.  The road seemed especially bumpy, which wasn't far from the norm on the 118, which has always been a rather bumpy ride. So, I changed lanes to see if the fast lane was any better, but no it wasn't.  About ten seconds after I changed lanes I felt a KABLAMO on my rear end, I looked back there and there was a strip of something flying behind me, my car swerved, rocked on two wheels and really tried to get away like a bucking horse. FYI, apparently 80 IS a little fast.

 Now, I have been in accidents in the past and normally my heart explodes into my throat and my body buzzes with adrenalin. Oddly, that didn't happen.

In the past two years or so I have been working with myself to be more Zen about life. Instead of trying to control every detail and getting all stressed when things don't go as I think they should, I have recently been breathing deeply and moving on. After all, there really is very little we CAN control and the number one thing on that short list is how we react to the world around us. So, as I regained control of my car, flipped on my hazards and moved slowly across the five lanes, I was at once irritated I would likely be missing the party I was all dressed up for, considering what I was going to be doing in the next half hour ( mainly changing a tire and standing on the side of the freeway) , and proud of myself for regaining control of the car and NOT flipping over.

Seeing the mass damage my fucked up tire caused  in the blow out would normally have sent me into a panic, but my new found view let me breath deep and move right along. 

Nothing I can do about the bent metal at the moment.  Once I checked out the damage I called out to my support team, namely my husband  (who really couldn't do anything since I had our only car) and my brother.  Just as I was trying to remember  what the man at the dealership had told me about where my spare was four years ago, a man in a bright yellow vest appeared.  My first thought was that it was Cal Trans and I was busted for littering  the freeway with the broken pieces of my tire, but no, he was a member of an elite force of people with trucks whose job it is to rescue stranded people with busted ass tires.

  I had never heard of the Metro Freeway Patrol, a free ( sigh of relief) service that drives up and down the freeway helping stranded motorists. I informed him my brother was on the way, but he went straight to work helping me figuring out where the spare was, and  getting right down to business changing the tire. Being the kind of woman who likes to do for herself, I offered to help with the tire change a few time, even considering my nicer clothes, but he would have none of it. He finished up just as my brother arrived to be my safety escort home. 

I am still very proud of how calm I remained during the whole debacle, and how calm I still am considering the fact that I will likely be out a car until I win or inherit a large sum of money.

While I am not a religious person, the Zen philosophy of letting go that which we cannot control has given me a new, calmer, view on life. You should try it, it's pretty super. 

The Olympics, Curiosity and what it means to be human

My first real memory of the Olympics was watching the torch run past me. I didnt understand it really, other than the fact it had come very far and that it all had something to do with M&M's . Years later I would reach back into my own memory and be touched by the fact that I had seen with my own eyes a symbol of the games. As I grew and learned more about what the games represented, or what they should represent anyway, I loved them more and more. 

The idea that all the peoples of Earth could join together in weeks of sport, that representatives from warring nations could compete side by side in peace, it gave me hope. Heck, it still gives me hope today! This year, yet another Olympic mile stone was passed. For the first time in Olympic history there was a woman competing from every nation. In a time when it seems that even in this country the rights of woman are in retrograde, there walked in pony tails, head scarves and full of pride the woman of the world. And of course I cried like a wee baba. Some of these woman faced death threats, taunts of "Prostitute"  or "Whore", but still they walked with strength and pride giving hope to some little girl, who maybe doesn't understand the Olympics yet but will one day look back and know she was there!

Still riding the emotional wave of the games, I was also getting amped for the latest endeavor from our good friends at NASA. Being an avid fan of not only science fiction, but also of science fact, I have had my ear on this as long as they have been planning it. I jumped at the chance to send my kids names up with the rover in October of last year, and was totally bummed when the launce was delayed. But then it was happening, really and truly. I dragged the kids along with me to a seminar on the rover itself and the upcoming launce where we got to put hands on the material that would be used to land the rover and let me tell you, if you think it looked flimsy on film I am still amazed that stuff worked!  Then, when the time came, I sat in a dark, sleepy house on my lonesome and waited.  If this mission failed it would be a huge disappointment and a waste of ten years of hard work from NASA and JPL. And if it worked...

I had begun to doze when cheers of joy filled my head phones and the simple black and white image showed up on my monitor. I may as well have been there myself, I jumped up, clapped my hands, and cried . We, the human race, had done it again. We had reached out into the stars and succeeded.  

This past month I have been renewed with hope for this human race. While the world seems on the verge of erupting into some crazy socioeconomic cluster fuck there are still those striving ever to improve what we are, who we are, and what it means to be human.  We are strong, we challenge ourselves to be better, faster, stronger, to move forward and explore the unexplored, to learn more everyday and to understand ourselves  and this beautiful planet better than we did yesterday.

Can we overcome our differences?  Can we be strong despite our weaknesses? Can we work as one to achieve the greatness humanity has the potential for? I have hope that the answer is yes. As long as there are those risking it all to be the first  we have hope. 

Notes on raising a Brony

           The theme song is noxious, the colors are vibrant, and the voices sweet enough to give one cavities. Not my first choice in toons, My little Pony: Friendship is magic has taken over my house.  Contrary to popular belief it isn't even my daughter putting on this super cute cartoon, it's my 9 year old son!  At first I was simply glad the two of them were getting along and enjoying the same show, and then I heard John De Lancie.  In case you're not in the know Mr. De Lancie famously played "Q", a Star Trek villain of, well, god like supremacy.  In true form, the character of "Discord" would make  Q proud, stirring up , well, discord.  While this did little to alter my desire to watch the show it certainly elevated it in my geekpinion. 

          As homeschoolers,   issues of " girly" v . "boyish" things rarely come up even though my kids definitely display a lot of distinct traits true to the pre conceived notions of what one gender or another happens to find of interest. In our house my husband cooks and I love power tools, so we are pretty loosey goosy with the gender roles.  This is why I was surprised to find my son completely terrified that his friend might discover his love of the ponies.  Being not only a total fan girl, but also bisexual, supporting my kids in whatever they love is a deep passion for me, especially when it calls into question who they are "supposed" to be. So, what does a mom do when her son loves ponies but hides them under his pillow? Well, to the Interwebs went I!

        To say that I was surprised at what I found is an understatement.  Not only was my son not alone in his boyish love of the very girly ponies, there was even a name for his forbidden love; Brony.

Finding this legion of mostly grown men ( guys around 19-25), literally brought tears to my eyes. Not only did my son have zero reason to be embarrassed  ( a fact I knew, of course), but it would be possible for him, in some near future, to find other guys to share his love with.  There are so many of them they have their own convention, and their group is growing so much they sell Brony tees at the  ever trendy Hot Topics.

        Maybe he won't always love Rainbow Dash, but I am so glad to know that he is growing up in a world where Bronies exist!

        So often we worry about how little girls see the world, how their roles will be shaped by the notions of the media and the masses and we forget our little boys.  How are they affected by the pink aisles in the toy store, and by the deliberate separation of girl and boy toys?  My mission, as a mom and a lover of freedom and joy, is to make sure that my son is comfortable in his skin, that he can embrace all parts of himself without feelings of doubt or fear.  The fact that there are literally thousands of other guys out there leading the way warms my little heart cockles.  It is my greatest hope that things will keep on shifting and evolving until one day there is only one toy aisle, and its filled with rainbows and Legos. 

Making Friends and Rocking out

Being a younger mom can be a lonely land. Being an extremely geeky home school mom is a whole other level. For the first few years I tried like hell to fit in with the other moms, but in the end I realized I want my children to embrace themselves and to set that example I had to do the same thing. For me this means embracing my hobbies and geekness and living it up in cosplay heaven. Luckily I live in LA, which, when one searches, can provide no end of the strange and unusual. On a jont to one of my favorite geektastic establishments, one Whimsically in Hollyweird, I came across a card for an adult Harry Potter fan group. I checked it out online but most of the activities took place in the city and it just wasn't in the cards for me. Fast forward a year and I am at my first geek convention ( not counting Star Trek conventions and the Ren Faire) Comicazi. Checking out voice talent, comic artists and fellow geek cosplayers I came across the table of the same group, Los Angeles Dumbledore's Army. I met and chatted with three very cool people and felt more inspired to get into the group. Logging on to find the book club within the group was reading the same book I was currently reading I bite the bullet and joined up. Its never been terribly easy for me to find people who speak my language, but within an hour with just a portion of the group I had found more kindred spirits than I had in years of park days and play dates. Beach Party dueling and great social media conversations and I am in geek heaven. LADA turned out to be a group of some of the raddest people I have met. Every one filled with the love and friendship one would imagine on the Hogwarts express. Every new face friendly and open. And they don't just love the Potter, virtually any obscure reference I espouse will undoubtedly be met with at least one nod of understanding. So, last night, thanks to my wonderful husband who totally supports my geek habit, I joined my fellow Potter Geeks at the Troubadour  in Hollywood to rock out to some wizard rock and watch a puppet show. Don't hate, these puppets will have you rolling in your seats. Side note for Home school pride; I learned of the puppet pals years ago because the creator was home schooled.

Anyway, I donned my So Cali summer wizard garb, my husband his top hat, and we set off. Approaching the line I found a couple of very cool LADA members, and I was home. Being able to express ones self with abandon is truly a freeing experience, and finding others with which you can do so is even better. A few other people joined us in line and in no time I was inadvertently recruiting for the Army, and they were glad to be recruited! We took our seats, ordered our drinks, and chatted away in eager anticipation of the promised wizard awesomeness. I even saw a few other home schoolers hanging around, but the coolest was yet to come. As the minutes ticked by, the Troubedour filled ever so slowly, until the lights dimmed and looking down I saw the place was PACKED!! the red and gold for Gryffindor house was, of course, prominent.

There were graying old couples, finicky nursing toddlers and rawking Hufflepunks. I was touched, as lame as that may sound, by the sheer number of those in attendance. Everyone of us there because of a book. Ok, well, seven books. Everyone of us touched by the story of the boy who lived and those who loved him. In true form the Puppets of the Potter Puppet Pals delivered a fabulously funny show, to which many of the audience sang along. Then Harry and the Potters took the stage and rocked that place like a...something magical and rocking...leaving the crowd wanting more. The encore song, an epic ballad to our great and lost leader, Albus Dumbledore, nearly brought tears to my eyes as I was filled with the love in the room, the love that comes for a mutual understanding of what matters in this world, a shared love of life and of a book. A BOOK!! Do you have any idea how freaking awesome that is?!? For me, a girl who once found her friends solely in the pages of books, to find myself surrounded by literally hundreds of others who are like me. Well, lets just say when the songs came to an end and I bid my new friends good bye I was at once sorry to see them go and eager for the next time we would geek out to the extreme. J.K nailed it when she wrote of the importance of finding friends, friends who like you no matter how much of a dork you are, or better yet, those who will don cloaks and carry wands and play wizards right along side you, even if you're all proper grown ups.

L'chaim!

I tend to get pretty emotional this time of year. See, its nearly my daughters birthday, which in and of itself isn't much to get all choked up about, but for me there is so much more to it than that. My delivery was at once the most amazing and the most terrifying night of my life. I had succeeded in delivering my daughter in swift fashion without drugs, having cleverly absconded to the bathroom every time one of the drug pushing nurses came into the room, and was resting happily in the dark as this tiny new person suckled away as though she had been doing  it, well, all her life, that's when the scary part started.

Having been given an unnecessary dose of pitocin, I began to have contractions..again. Fast forward past the gross parts you really have to love me to hear, I was bleeding to death. I handed off my daughter to my terrified and exhausted husband and was rushed into the operating room. I had already lost a good part of my hearing and my vision was fading fast on the edges, I was going into shock and in the process of actually dying. It was like one of those horror movies where the heroine is strapped to a bed and surrounded by bright lights and doctors with masks in place of where noses and mouths belonged. I was prodded, poked, hooked up to bags of blood. Yes, I said bags, as in more than one. As in I had lost so much blood they had to give me double doses for the next three hours. In the end I am alive, obviously, and I had my daughter with me in recovery and was able to watch her sleep. She was such a trooper, they kept trying to give her a bottle, something I really didn't want her to have, and she just kept falling back asleep, already the adorably little sneak. My body was a wreck for at least two months, no one tells you how you're going to feel with someone else's blood in your veins and let me tell you, it ain't great. But, I was alive. Every time she woke me to nurse, I was alive. Every minute of lost sleep, I was ALIVE. In this country we take for granted the dangers posed by child birth ( not to mention inept hospital employees). Never in a million years would I have imagined I would find myself on the wrong end of a bag of donated blood, but there I was.

Every year, around this time, I get to thinking about what would have happened had I not been lucky enough to find myself in an American hospital, a point of fact I find ironic considering my overall opinion of the medical "industry" here. How many smiles I would have missed, how many hugs. What would life have been like for them; my husband and our children? My daughter is an amazing little being all her own, full of song and art and all the wonder one imagines a little girl should be, but to me she is the very personification of life. With every year she celebrates her birthday I, too, celebrate my life. On that night I was reborn. I was enlightened. Life is the briefest of things, the most precious of treasures. In her sparkling little brown eyes are all the potentials in life. In her dimples are the hopes of tomorrow. Excuse me as I wax poetic, but I really cant help it. This little person, a girl I had hoped would be a boy, has taught me so much with her very presence. She reminds me of all the wonder I had become too jaded to see, she reminds me that tea parties are great fun and that little girls may have a lot harder fight in this world but are every bit as great to raise as boys are.

So, happy birthday to my ninja princess surfer girl. You make my days bright and cheery and my life richer than I could have imagined.

Also, I'd like to get a little preachy...if you qualify and are able, please donate blood. The life you save could be mine.