SWM

June 23rd, 2020

I’m a writer.

I’m a straight, white male.

Every time I come up with a new character, he starts off as a straight, white male. Even if I imagine her as a red-haired young woman, on the inside she is a straight, white male.

For her to be anything else takes work.

The work varies. It may be that I have to just let her be whoever she is. It may be that I have to walk in her shoes for a while, be in her thoughts and feelings and her very specific way of living.

I have to be empathetic to who she is, where she came from and where she wants to go, which requires extra work from my end.

Empathy requires work.

Which is why, I believe, the people who resist change do so.

You might argue that empathy is natural for some. You could argue that but, the fact of the matter is, for most people, their lives are easier when they don’t select empathy. Choosing empathy takes emotional work.

When I came up with my band of superheroes, they were all boring, straight, white ass men with neat powers. Do you know how stupid easy that book would have been to write?

Stupid, stupid easy.

Instead, I wanted my world to reflect THE world. I find nothing scary about people the way they are; I find our collective, colorful world freeing, liberating, exciting, diverse, limitless, infinite . . .

And I find that our most intimate, personal hopes, dreams, problems and failures are the same.

I put in the work, and I found that for this story, the one straight, white male was enough. The rest were something more in every single way.

For a person still trying to take the easy road, I’d only have one question to ask: why?

Why not be limitless, why not be liberated, why not be compassionate, why not have empathy?

Your effort could be the hand that holds up another.

Put in the work.

The rewards will be infinite.

People Not Problems

June 10th, 2020

Do you want to know why some folks love statistics so much?

It’s because numbers are not people.

Tell me which is easier for you: is it more agreeable to look up printed percentages that meet up with what you want to think and believe, or to watch even eight minutes of a man being murdered right before your eyes?

Which is easier: to present numbers in a way someone wants them to look, or to fabricate hundreds of years of documented human behavior?

Which is easier: to put people into large groups that make ideas like genocide and racial discrimination easier to digest, or to think about each precious, literally one-of-a-kind existence being extinguished one light at a time?

Do you see where I’m going here?

Math is awesome. Science is wonderful, and it posits that the world we know around us is made up of math.

But we, the people, are not made up of math.

We are made up of laughs, and tears, and jokes, and inside stories; we’re made up of families, our parents, our children and the bonds we make outside our blood; we’re made up of our favorite foods, our vices, our sins and all of the great things that we can do.

We’re people. All of us.

And when you deny that — when you use a chart or a graph to defend the degradation or loss of any human life — you lose. You lose sight of what’s important, you lose sight of what’s valuable — you lose sight of what’s real. It might be something that’s learned, or something you forgot, but you can always come back.

And when you come back, and you see the worth of each individual, no matter how difficult it may be?

That’s when we win.

Progress Not Perfection

June 3rd, 2020

Every single morning, especially since I’ve been sober, I wake up and I prepare myself to be called out.

What will it be today? I don’t know. Yesterday, it was because I used the wrong hashtag; it was an honest mistake, and I fixed it immediately.

Some of you may understand. Some of you may wonder why I start my day already telling myself I will do something wrong.

It’s because I will.

I put myself in that charged space so when it inevitably arises, I’m not taken off guard. I’m hopefully not irrationally defensive. I’m ready to listen.

Am I always wrong? Objectively, no. Am I always right? An even bigger no.

I could get called out on any or every single thing, and I try to tell myself that it’s a positive interaction. Because it either allows me to further elaborate on what I feel or think or believe, or it allows me to learn something new that I didn’t know before.

These are both good outcomes.

I have a few decades of life behind me, and in them I have all the grays, from tints to shades. There are things I’ve done that I am really proud of, and some that were absolutely terrible of me. I wouldn’t take any of them back, in that I’ve learned from every single one.

And I’ll continue to learn from every single one.

If there’s one simple thing being called for right now, it’s listening. None of us will get it right every time, but that’s not an excuse to continue getting so much wrong. This is a process, and it moves as quickly as we cooperate; isn’t that what everyone is asking for to some degree? Cooperation?

If you don’t wake up every day thinking you deserve to be called out for something, why do you think that is?

Because it couldn’t be that you are perfect.

And admitting that is a very good first step.

Why Didn’t You Fix This?

June 1st, 2020

I got into a heated discussion with my dad yesterday about what’s happening right now (don’t worry, we’re fine!). While we were making scattered points, I blurted out something I’ve been thinking about a lot this week.

“Why didn’t you fix this?”

As I see people from generations older than mine criticizing the state of life right now, I can’t help but wonder: why did you not do the right thing, when you had the chance, together? I imagine many of you, when you had children, told them, and yourself, that you would make a better world for us live in.

Why did you break that promise?

Why are we left to unlearn all of this bullshit, and why have you made us the teachers? Why are we trying to make you understand that people are not groups, but they are individuals; that each single human is a priceless life that can never be replaced? Why did you put that burden on us?

This isn’t the first protest, or riot. This isn’t even the hundredth. Many of you lived through the civil rights movement, so I ask:

Why didn’t you fix it?

Why did you leave this problem, along with so many others, for your children to deal with?

You can’t answer it, and we’re not expecting you to. All we’re expecting from the people who failed us is to get the hell out of our way.

My son will grow up in a world better than mine. And it won’t be because of the people who came before, who let things get to be this way.

No, it’ll be because of us.

So, I won’t ask you again why you didn’t fix this. Putting that burden on you is only hypocritical.

I will only ask that you allow us to try.

George Floyd

May 27th, 2020

I don’t know what to say.

I always have a lot of things to say but it’s usually about things that don’t matter.

Black lives matter.

My lack of an immediate response isn’t because I’m not feeling anything; I’m feeling too much.

I’m sad, and I’m disgusted, and I’m fucking angry.

For those of you asking for “all the facts”; the police made an official statement before the video was released, and it addressed nothing that we saw. There’s your fucking facts.

And I see all these petitions, and places to donate, and lists of things white people can do to make our neighborhoods a better place for others, and none of that stuff seems to matter.

Because none of that stuff will have stopped George Floyd, begging for his mom while having his breath taken away, from being murdered.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what to say.

But I know that putting the people responsible for this away is the first of many, many steps we can take. Not for justice, because George Floyd was never allowed that grace. No, towards showing the world that these coward racists, who are emboldened from our current establishment down, do not represent the majority of us.

Let’s say George Floyd’s name so we can put an end to this list.

New Directions

May 25th, 2020

What kind of doofus would release a book about connecting to one another at a time when we’re so far apart?

This kind of doofus.

A doofus who could absolutely use some of your knowledge and wisdom.

As any writer does, I spend time reading about sales and the “art” of selling, and have found some refreshing counterpoints to the idea that a book has to sell 10,000 copies in a week to be successful.

It’s about what you want your book to accomplish; it’s about targeting the people who will get the most from it.

So, help me find them.

If you know someone who needs to read this book, let’s talk. Maybe they’re a reviewer who is looking to be one of the first to share new or local titles. Maybe they work in entertainment and are looking for the next thing. Maybe they work in a mental health field and are looking for ways that are not impersonal pamphlets to start conversations. Maybe you just know someone who is going through a tough time and this book would help.

If you’ve got something, let’s talk.

Despite nearly no access to physical stores or conventions, I’ve already ordered a second printing; The Weirdos are moving at a surprising rate, considering the world. But you all have the ability to push and gust this in new directions.

And I can’t wait to see where this goes. ❤

The Weight of the World

May 21st, 2020

Imagine an enormous boulder on your bathroom scale. If you snuck underneath it, you could see its weight.

If a single raindrop fell from the sky, and landed on the boulder, it would not change its displayed weight at all.

This is how I imagine most people feel they affect the world.

Now, imagine an enormous boulder on the very edge of a cliff. It’s teetering, bordering on release, at the peak of its potential energy.

If a single raindrop fell from the sky and hit the boulder on just the right spot, it could cause an avalanche.

And that is what we actually are.

A string of your words could inspire somebody to do something great, to achieve a goal, to go after their dream. Conversely, your post could be the shove that finally pushes somebody off of a ledge.

I am sure I am guilty of both.

But we’re all raindrops. Tiny, significantly powerful raindrops.

And as we all fall from our clouds, side by side, we need to take care of how we land.

Because some avalanches are avoidable, and some soil could use our gifts.

The [Hidden] Real World

May 20th, 2020

I’ve spent weeks with this book, exploring the most vast multiverses, and the tiniest quantum worlds.

I just finished it.

And now I know everything.

I’m *kidding*. But I am really proud of myself for reading an entire book about math and physics of every major kind. This is adult-level book-reading goals for me, and I pushed myself along because it doubles (see what I did there?) as research for a project I’m creating that I care deeply about.

The premise of The Hidden Reality is misleading: it promises a look at the different kinds of parallel universes that could exist according to scientific theory. It does do that, but in order to get there, it has to teach you a whole lot about physics. It’s worth every page.

I discovered Brian Greene as I was deciding which guest to watch my first Joe Rogan podcast with. Everything I read about Brian seemed to be the exact thing I’ve been looking for in my life, and his 2+ hour discussion did not disappoint. I was electrified, and he doesn’t know it, but I tell people he’s my best friend now. I immediately ordered a few of his books (and a book on religion he recommended), and I dove in.

So — what kinds of multiverses are there? Let’s see: in this book, we cover Quilted, Inflationary, Brane, Cyclic, Landscape, Quantum, Holographic, Simulated and the (awesomely-named) Ultimate Multiverse. All of them are unique, they’re mind-bending and their descriptions will make you see and experience our own reality in an entirely different way.

To use a scientific phrase: it’s dope.

Honestly, while dealing with the very real micro-stress we’re all feeling during this unprecedented time, it was almost like meditation; imagining the vast expanse of space and the infinite stretch of time.

We’re so little, you guys.

And I learned so much, and I *guarantee* I will be the most interesting person at your next cocktail party.

Just make sure you send the invitation to the right dimension.

It’s Science

May 14th, 2020

I’ve been really into science lately. Deep.

I’m reading books about the universe (or universes?). I’ve learned so much about physics. General relativity, and quantum field theory, and string theory, and I’m finding a stunning symmetry to people.

When we encounter a force we don’t understand, we have to figure out an equation to explain it. We can only use the resources we have currently available to us, but we do it, time and time again.

As we grow and learn, and get better ideas and tools, we update our equation; our conception changes because we can see it more clearly.

And that’s what we do as humans.

We meet a person, and we try to figure them out. They become an equation — a list of constants and variables that make up who they are — and that’s how we explain one another. It’s how I identify you to me.

But then, just like in science, you grow and learn and you receive more data. Our highly subjective observational instruments — our hearts, and our instincts, and our memories — update and become more refined, more detailed in their information.

And the equation changes.

And it doesn’t necessarily change the previous problem. But it becomes a more complex one.

How beautiful is it that we get to keep becoming more intricate, for the rest of our lives? That every day, hour, second and moment forever adds another layer to the answer of who we are.

You’re never solved, even after you’re gone. It would take every person who has ever met you, ever heard of you, ever read your words, ever listened to your voice, all of them; they would have to compare notes and compile their extensive data and they still would never have the complete picture.

That is how unique you are.

You are an unsolvable equation made of a math that never existed until you did. You are a code made up of a singular body and soul that can never be completely cracked.

Get the idea that you’re not special just by existing out of your damn head.

You are composed of trillions of particles that found one another in you.

That is nothing short of epic.

Circle Of Life

May 10th, 2020

When I was in 5th grade, I started my first business.

I’ve always been a dreamer and a scribbler; that year, I started sketching full page portraits of Lion King characters based on (read: basically copied from) their trading cards. Some of the other kids saw me doodling these at my desk and really liked them. So much so that they were willing to pay for them.

This concept blew my mind. Kids were giving me whole dollar bills to recreate this art I loved on another surface. But I quickly realized that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demand; a friend of mine (I can’t vividly remember who, but I think James?) suggested I should keep the originals and sell photocopies of those. GENIUS. His mom even had a photocopier at work that we for sure could use.

And then it all fell apart. I don’t completely remember why, but I remember feeling overwhelmed at first, at some increasingly imagined pressure. My excitement over the idea of the end result — me, sitting on a pile of dollar bills and being universally adored — slipped away like spaghetti through my fingers. I started being more critical of myself, and now understood that there was an audience, with expectations. I could potentially let somebody down. Somebody who had already given me their money, even.

This cycle has continued through me every single day of the rest of my life.

The only difference now is I’ve seen the end result. It’s not piles of dollar bills or mass adoration. But it is a sense of purpose, and it’s fulfillment. It’s a nice word here and there. It’s finding people who connect and feel the same ways that I do. It’s a random message or a fist bump or an affirmation: we’re going to be okay, you and me.

This is basically just a long-winded way of me saying: if I took a dollar from you in 5th grade and never gave you your Lion King drawing, please message me so I can Venmo your dollar back. I still feel really bad about this.