The Death Card

He gave in. The man let his standards fall because no one recognized his worth anymore. Actually, they recognized his worth. Those who have had contact with him have praised him, but they're not willing to pay what he's worth. A younger man is so much more functional to their business model. So he lowered his standards.

Initially I wondered what that was like. How does it feel to give in because standing up for yourself isn't getting you anywhere? But I know how that feels. It's like binding your arms in one huge knot. You have to escape yourself just to feel human.

I know how it feels because right now I'm caught up in my own nightmare. I've written a story that needs to be told, but the people who care about my success have told me I have to cut the heart out of my story because it's too confusing. There are too many things happening.

Then the Death card turned up on my Tarot deck.
I don't want to do this. If I cut her heart out, she will die. She will not be the dream I started so many years ago. She will have changed. The truth is, I know I will make the cuts that need to be made. Like the man who sliced off part of his jammed arm in order to survive, I will do what needs to be done to help my story.

I know all too well that the Death card does not mean death. It means change. Change is not a death sentence. It is an opportunity for a new life.

Twitter Novel in progress ...

Started, Halloween, 2011

November created what has turned into a YA Sci-Fi Fantasy. I will continue updating it as the Twitter novel continues past NaNoWriMo.

AKEENAH AND THE EARTHERS

     Dark clouds gathering overhead hint at something, not sure what, but it can't be good. Then a chill slashes through me.
     BOOM! The blast blows me against the wall and holds me there for what seems like forever. I can't breathe. I crumple onto the weathered planks.
     Lightning struck. Again. I should have played the lottery. 

     In the distance, the hulk of what used to be my treehouse burns. I pick up the messenger and call for the helpers.

     It's a routine that shouldn't surprise me. I tempt the universe when I don't follow Captain's orders. The suit is just so bulky.
     I crawl inside the door away from the storm's roar, cursing my wicked luck. Will I walk free again?
     "Idiot!" Derek says.

      My keeper yanks me clear of the door. "It's forbidden and yet you insist. You must have a death wish."
     "Leave me alone," I say. "It's my life."
     "You have it all wrong, Princess. It's no longer your life you risk." He drags me to the window. "They follow you. You endanger all of us."
      "You try living in a bubble!" I shake him off and try to walk away, but he grabs my coat. I pull away and run from everything, but I know I won't, though, it's not in the stars.
     That night the rumbling skies remind me again: the Princess mustn't step outside. The ships hiding behind clouds refuse to give up, and in the morning, the angry faces of my guardians wait for me when I come downstairs.
     "Your father in on the line," Captain grumbles.
     The inanimate floating head in the sitting room is far from inanimate. Father is boiling. Anger burns from his eyes.
     "You do not seem to understand the enormity of your actions, my daughter. Your capture will kill us all."
     He's the one who doesn't understand, but I dare not speak. The voice booming from the head frightens me.
     "I am tempted to --" he says.
     To what? Ground me? Deport me? Let them capture me? Really, what can he do now that he hasn't already? I'm cursed.
     "Akeenah!" Captain says my name as part of a hushed order. Just my name, but I know what it means. He heard my thoughts.
     I stand at attention and take the scolding from my father.
     "If you are so determined to get captured we have no other option." He glares at Captain. "She must be neutralized."
     The room falls silent. What?
     I could wait and ask or I could live. Before any of the guardians can move to stop me, I shoot out the front door into a new storm. I have no plan other than to escape. I've heard of people being neutralized, their powers dimmed until their energy is nothing more than a night light. That will not happen to me. I gather the energy inside me and channel it into my escape. Soon I am dodging guards and zig-zagging to avoid the lightning strikes I'm sure will kill me. Death is better than being neutralized, though.
       The sirens announce my escape, but only Father's guards try to stop me. No one else comes out until I turn down an alley. I'm yanked into darkness. Something is pulled over my head and I'm blind.
      "Don't scream," a gruff voice says before cupping a hand over my mouth. He drags me over loose rocks into a cooler place that smells stale and old. I gain my footing and run alongside over a smoother surface.
       Fear silences me. If he's really planning to hurt me, wouldn't I have already sensed his plans? I'm not a Sentient, but my powers have not let me down before.
       Suddenly, I'm surrounded. Hands grab me from every direction. So many voices. I can't make anything out. Panic takes over and makes breathing hard. I want to cry. The anger rising through me burns. The words are easier to understand now.
       "Help us."  
       They need me. It's too late for me to stop, though. The fire wins. The heat takes control and my captors lose their grip on what used to be my human form. Their screams are pained.
       The energy I have become evaporates the ski mask my captors had placed over my face. They're kids like me. Their damage I have done is obvious and I try to pull back my energy. I didn't mean to hurt them. I thought The Others had captured me, just as Father had threatened.

        This isn't Others. The boy who first grabbed me is Kevin from Math class. The girl crying over the burns on her hands is Sarah, the mayor's daughter. I try to tone down the heat.
       "I'm so sorry." I glide away, but Kevin doesn't forgive easily. "Shit, bitch. We were trying to help."

        My dimming energy allows me to witness their pain, but it's Kevin's anger that keeps me hot. "What the hell did you think was gonna happen?"

        He bristles at my words. I don't stop.

       "I had no idea who had me. I was petrified. Did you ever think to tell me?" Then I see Avery.

       My best friend sidles up near me. "I'm sorry. You caught us off guard, too, Keenah." 

       I look toward Sarah, heading toward the sink. The realization over what I've done is enough to cool me down. 

       "What happened?" Avery asks. "We thought you were going to wait."

        I'm shaking now as the memory returns. "Father ordered me neutralized."

        My friends' voices silence.

       "Oh my stars," Avery gasps. "I never thought ..." 
       None of us thought Father would go to such lengths. "Why?" I can't control the tears now. I crumple to the ground. Avery wraps an arm around me, comforting me while the rest of her friends discuss what to do "with her" - me. Some want to do nothing. Some want to throw me outside before my energy signature reveals their hiding place. Kevin, remarkably, wants to help me.
       I can't argue with the ones who hate me. I have no idea of what's going on. An Underground? A Rebellion? Against who, Father? Reality sobers me. I have to give them a reason to keep me.
       I see a boy smearing yellow medicine on his arm. I hadn't noticed his injury before.  "I can fix that," I say. "I'm a healer."
       The room falls silent until, oh so slowly, the boy holds out his arm. I scramble closer. "This won't hurt," I say, certain of my words but still a little scared. This didn't hurt when Grandmother healed me all those years ago. But humans might be different. I cup my hands until the blue flame flickers to life. I raise my hands in offering to Mother Universe before encasing the boy's arm with my energy. Immediately, he is healed.
        Keven is the first to speak. "That's why they want you?"
        I shake my head. "They want me for another reason. My power can kill."

       The rest of the day they hide me in the tunnels as they wander in and out of hidden entryways. As nightfall nears, the boy I healed returns. He slips out of a large backpack and presents it to me.
       "For protection."
        I empty the pack tentatively. Inside I find my suit. The one that allows me to see the sun. The one that dampens my energy signal so I can live without detection, but it's not as bulky as the one at home.
       "I hope this is okay," he says. "Got the specs from Dad." Dad? How would his father know? I guess he sees my confusion.
       "He's your Captain."
        Captain? Father's enforcer?
        "He wants you to protect yourself. He's hoping the King changes his mind."
        But what if this is a trap? Should I trust this boy? "I guess I have no choice," I mumble, taking the suit into the area that has become my sanctuary. I'll inspect it thoroughly.
        During the weeks that follow, I learn much about the life I thought I was living, about the horrors of Father's laws, that the boy is Natil.
        Natil has become more than a friend. He has taught me much about this Rebellion I stumbled upon. "There are people who go hungry so the king can get fat," he said with a sneer. "My best friend was killed in The Wilds - he was hunting wild boar to feed his sisters." He turned away.
       "I'm sorry." Six weeks ago those words were meaningless to me. Today they're heavy with guilt. His people died for my food or for my suit.
       But six weeks ago I thought Father still loved me. A lifetime has passed since that day I ran from my father's order to destroy my powers.
      "Let's go," he hands me the suit. "Do you want some privacy?" I shake my head. In an underground commune, there is no privacy. He helps me seal into the less-bulky suit. It's still a pain in the ass, though. He inspects every nook and cranny to make certain no skin is exposed.
       As the sun rises, we step outside. I'm tentative at first, remembering the thunderous roars of my last trip outdoors. We're heading for The Wilds. We have to move quickly in order to make it there before the sun disappears again. That is where The Resistance has set up their base.
       "The King's army is camped over that ridge," Natil says, diving behind rocks that fell in last night's landslide. I fight the urge to look where he's pointing. I step over and around the rocks, following his lanky frame. He is merely a child of fourteen, but he speaks like one of Father's learned advisors. Today, however, as we fight the hazards of The Wilds, I wonder if I was wrong to trust him.
       "Natil," I call out. He stops, his leg searching for footing over the large boulder he is climbing.
       "Keep quiet," he says. "There are listeners out there." He waits for me to climb closer then boosts me onto the boulder next to him.
        "What is your question?" he whispers.
        I whisper back: "Have you heard from Captain?"
        He turns his gaze back to Father's camp and says nothing. His silence is enough to tell me he still hasn't heard from him. I think he's too frightened to consider the possibilities. If Father's spies know Natil is with the Underground, Captain's position among the King's Guard is compromised. And my security is in question. I will not think more about this.
       "Lead the way, sir Natil," I say with fake confidence. Worry is for tonight, when we are safely tucked away in some dark cave in The Wilds of Savah, where no one can threaten us with imprisonment.
       When the humans first arrived on Savah, Father's Council thought it best to allow them to live among us. We took on human form to ease their transition. Our world is similar yet very different from theirs. Then the problems started and Father began to change.
       Threading through the boulders in this part of The Wilds reminds me of the days I used to play here in my natural form as a child. We don't dare reveal our true form anymore. We are captives in our own world. Victims of our own greed. That is what I've learned these last few weeks. Trying to share our planet we compromised our people.
        "I wish you could have known us before," I tell Natil quietly as we stop to share our water. "We were a great and proud people. Now we would sell our grandmothers for a human dollar."
       He rolls his eyes, "Or our daughters."
       I am silenced.
       The rest of the trek I find it difficult to make conversation. I want to talk about the greatness of my people. He obviously does not share my enthusiasm.
       Then, as the setting sun softens the sky with pink, Natil turns. "Our camp is near. I must know. Do you still obey your father?"
       His brusqueness stuns me. Do I still obey my father? If I say I love Father, will Natil strand me in the desert? Must I commit to an answer?
       "Father tried to neutralize me." That answer should be enough. How does a daughter turn from her father without reason?
       A powerful voice, one I haven't heard before, thunders from the trees on the edge of The Wilds. "You cannot enter our camp as an agent of the king."
       The owner is imposing. He closes the gap between us swiftly, the sweat glistening on his bare chest. "Welcome, Princess," he grunts. "Now leave." He grabs one of Natil's bags and storms away.
       "I'm sorry, Keenah." Natil moves to follow.
        I see my hopes fading. "Please. Who was that man?"
        "That is Aliks. He rules here.
       Who is this man who judges my thoughts? He's taking the only hope I have left. This cannot happen.
        I climb the closest boulder. "Stop!" My scream echoes off the walls of the canyon and Natil jumps.
        Aliks, however, only slows briefly. "You are not my princess," he shouts back.
       As the daylight dips below the horizon, my reality crashes in around me. I need to make a choice -- my life or loyalty to a father who has not shown me kindness since the days before the Earth-borns arrived on Savah. The heavyness of what I must do weighs on me.
       "I am no longer Princess Akeenah. I am no longer my father's ward." My words have some effect on the leader of this rebellion. "I am your faithful subject."
       I run down the rocky embankment and fall to my knees.
       "What do you need from me, Lord Aliks." I dare not look up. My heavy breaths make the dirt quiver under my face as I wait.
       A hand grabs my elbow and helps me up. "Just Aliks," the leader says. "Natil will show you to your quarters." His earth-blue eyes lock on mine for a breath of a second before he rips the connection and turns away. "We will talk at dinner."
        And just like that, he disappears deeper into the forests of The Wilds. Natil grabs one of my bags and leads me away. "You will not regret this," he says. "He's a good guy."
       He drones on about his childhood and how he idolized Aliks, who never allowed their exile to alter him. I can't get those deep blue eyes out of my mind -- like images of the Earth before her destruction. I wonder, "Is he one of us?"
        Natil stops and lowers his voice respectfully.
        "Oh no Princess. He is an original Earth-born."
        How can that be? They've been here almost a generation.
        "He was one of the last to leave," Natil answers my unspoken question as he steps into a clearing. Soon I am caught up in the formalities, but I can't get the math out of my head. The Earthers arrived twelve years ago. Aliks seems just about my seventeen years, but the trip is at least 20 years.
         What is this mysterious young leader's story?

To be continued ......

Don't look now, you're being watched!

I've never felt comfortable in my skin. It's like I'm visiting this world from another galaxy and just landed in this body out of chance. Of course, I don't really believe that, but it's an interesting facet of my psyche to consider. Maybe the origin of this thinking comes from the fact that I came to America at the age of six not knowing an iota of the English language.

Because of this alien mentality of mine, one of my earliest memories in America were those where I watched my classmates so that I could understand what was appropriate. I started watching and listening. I learned to speak English very quickly doing that -- I was out of English for Speakers of Other Languages within five months of starting first grade! I also learned what my classmates called shooting a bird! At least I was learning.

 

In second grade, when I had a crush on a boy named John, I thought about what people did when they liked each other. People kissed, so I kissed John one day when he passed me between classes. I knew no other way to tell him how I felt about him. I didn't get the reaction I expected. No one had dared me. No one was watching. It was just very stalkerish of me and I had no logical explanation for what I had done.  After that, I stopped acting on my initial reactions. I no longer allowed myself the luxury to be spontaneous and tell the truth.

Then, in sixth grade, I elevated my watching skills to storytelling skills. I wrote a book about a girl who solved mysteries and started making up chapter stories to entertain myself during my lonely lunches at a new school. When I got to college six years later, I got my degree in storytelling -- well, sort of. I became a journalist. But that still wasn't enough for me. I needed more. After a lifetime of watching and listening I've written my observations into stories that are awaiting discovery and publication. What a waste! There's so much more I could do with them!

The reason I began this blog was to highlight the good deeds of my high school students. The thing is, not everything I observe is a good deed. Sometimes it's something sad or something that needs to be changed. I was limiting myself, but I continue to observe.

 

It's time to change things.

The title of this blog remains the same, Stand For Something Now, but it's more a message to myself. If I feel strongly about something or somebody, it will find its way to this page. I'm allowing myself the freedom to become that little second grader who just wanted to tell John she liked him. My comments will be reasonably unscripted and off-the-cuff, in a way, but they will all be about what I watch and listen to as I go through life.

 

This blog will be the musings of a woman who still considers herself an alien in this world, although I am learning to allow myself the occasional act of spontaneiety. Therefore, this entry today serves as a warning to the people who encounter me at any time during my day -- watch out. You may end up in print!

Have faith in that leap you're about to make

It’s the end of the school year, the time when seniors everywhere are deciding between staying near the comforts of home and taking a giant leap into the real world by going to college across the country. Sometimes, the decision is easy. Based on finances, they may be forced to stay near home or take the full scholarship to that university in another state, but it’s still scary. They are comfortable where they are now. They may not be happy, but this life is not scary.

For me, it was easy. When I was graduating high school my mother got a job working for the University of Miami. I had a quarter tuition scholarship and as an employee, Mom enjoyed an employee perk of a 75% tuition discount. It was a no-brainer to go to UM. It was also too easy. There’s something about shaking off all expectations and security blankets to step out on your own. It helps you grow up. It helps you get to understand yourself so much better.

There’s an old saying used when people are considering between two options: “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.” Adults say that when they’re tempted to step out of their comfort zone into something different. It’s the safe answer that usually keeps people from trying new things. I’ve found myself repeating that saying often. There is a place for thinking that way. When your boss is a jerk and you’re considering quitting or taking another job, it’s good to think about the repercussions of the change. Will you find another job? Will you be able to continue paying your bills? Will you be forcing other people to drastically change their lives because of your little temper tantrum?

But that kind of thinking is not always the most productive. Maybe a drastic change is exactly what is needed.

Recently, two of my friends made drastic changes in their lives, and the effect was dramatic. They had both been going through the motions of life – not really living, just moving along and getting the job done. One decided to make a change and drop some responsibilities that had become mundane. She also bit the bullet and moved into a new apartment by herself. Another friend decided she needed to move back home and start life over again after a difficult two years. We went out the other day. Both of them were glowing with the excitement the change had brought into their lives. Sure, they’re apprehensive, but they’re excited, too.

I wonder, now, do the grown-up aspects of responsibilities and security take all the fun out of life? There’s got to be a way to make it all work. I think that’s why my husband and I eloped to Vegas for our 20^th Anniversary this year – I needed something different to break us out of the monotony of life, so we got an Elvis impersonator to renew our vows with us. We had so much fun that weekend that when life has thrown wads of, um, garbage in our faces since then we remember Elvis and smile.

Maybe the Elvis memory will be enough in the future, but I intend to remember the lessons I learn every year when my students head off to college. Sometimes a comfortable life may be enough, but there are other times, when we’re the most stuck and depression has become our only identifying characteristic, that the best thing to do is step into the frightening unknown and jump.

Stand for Something Now: When Dreams Slam into a Stop Sign

When Dreams Slam into a Stop Sign

I’m a fighter. Not that I can hold my own in a fist-duel with Mike Tyson (or Cicely Tyson for that matter), but if I really want something to happen I won’t take no for an answer. Even while playing Words With Friends I refuse to resign even if all I have left is an X and two T’s. I have to be forced out kicking and screaming. So when I learn about people who have given up on a dream because someone put up a Dead End sign in front of them, the anger sets my blood to boil.

“Who told you it was impossible?” I rant. Then I go through a list of possibilities – options so they will not have to give up. But sometimes I’m wrong. That student will never be an astronaut. That dream job will never materialize. That singer will never cut a record for a big-name label. And those are demoralizing assertions. Who wants to admit that their sole reason for living has exploded in their face?

That’s when the Polyanna, glass-half-full part of me pops out like a bud through the snows of early Spring. “Maybe there’s something else you can do,” I offer.

There’s always that.

Maybe you’ve spent a lifetime as a secretary when budget cuts hit your department and you were left jobless and without insurance. No matter where you look, no one needs a 40-year-old secretary who’s the diabetic single mother of two kids – too expensive when they can hire a 20-year-old with spunk and no dependents.

That doesn’t mean that mother should give up. “Just change your goals,” Mari-Polyanna says. Sure, maybe she’ll have to whip up Lattes as a barista until something else comes up, but something will come up. There has to be a silver lining, right?

Maybe that Dead End sign was really a Merge Right in disguise. Maybe the kid who wanted to be an astronaut can become a computer technician at NASA. Maybe that singer will find spiritual fulfillment leading the church choir.

Recently, a young friend learned she was not accepted into the Veterinary magnet school program at the school she’s been dreaming about for years. Instead, she was offered another academic option with the opportunity to volunteer at the veterinary clinic as part of her community service. “Great,” I said.

“Not great,” she said. The thought of having to take classes outside of her interest was insulting to her. But she’s on the waiting list. When school starts up again in August, I’m almost certain she will be in the Veterinary program, but if she’s not, I think other options will open up for her. She just needs to wait a little; it’s hard to get that through to someone who’s got her heart set on a dream, though.

My point is that too many of us can’t see past the dream. Maybe what we always wanted is unattainable for us unless we learn to work around the speed bumps. Maybe all we have to do is remember to think outside the box. Maybe with a couple of minor changes our dreams will come true.

If I had one wish, I would want my readers to remember that nothing in our lives should be forced to yield to someone else’s traffic signals. This life is too random for you to force a Stop sign into your path because, really, it’s not a full stop. Maybe it’s just a Detour.

I'm ashamed to say this ...

The reason for starting this blog was to point out the good in the young people growing up in this world where earthquakes, nuclear meltdowns, and potential world wars are a real threat. I hate thinking the worst of people, so today’s column is hard for me. It’s an off week where I live, so the only young people I’ve seen have been on vacation at Universal Studios Orlando. And that’s not always the best place to see the best of people. Most of us don’t like standing in line.

We were standing in one particular line Friday when a couple of young men plowed through without asking for forgiveness or excuse. Then the line comes to a standstill in a dark tunnel where it zigzags to a lower level. I thought the boys had already plowed through to the front when I heard them call up to a girl standing a few spots behind me.

“Come on down,” one kid called to his sister. She refused. I think she was beginning to feel guilty for cutting through the line, but her brother continued to egg her on. That’s when the teacher in me couldn’t hold back.

“The thing is,” I said, “it’s not fair and I won’t let her through.”

The boy exploded. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t let his sister through. Geez, why can't I keep my mouth shut! I thought about explaining that they need to ask or at least they should wait like the rest of us, but then something I didn’t expect happened. A woman standing between me and the girl refused to let her through – not just verbally, she grabbed her as the girl threaded through the crowd then jumped over the wall between us and the boys. The woman tried to jump over, too, and, of course, the boy saw her actions as a threat to his sister.

We almost had a brawl in the tunnel for a water ride in Orlando. All because I tried to teach some kids some manners. I felt ashamed. That's not the time, the place, nor my job.

The thing is, these are the young people most adults see, the ones who think only about themselves, who were never taught the power behind words such as Please, Thank You, and I’m Sorry, kids who walk down the middle of a parking lot oblivious to the cars piling up behind them, kids who proudly flick off the action camera on the ride people have waited an hour to ride in order to purchase a too-expensive 5 x 7 picture they will never be able to show their families.

I still believe there is good in these young people, but every now and then my faith is shaken. Then I remember the adults I met that day. In addition to the woman willing to lay her hands on the sister in the tunnel, the day started with the tourist in the parking lot. He refused to recognize that there were two lines so he rolled along slowly with the traffic in the bumper-to-bumper line next to our clear one. When we flashed our lights to politely tell him to move along, he flicked us off. Then, when we parked two spots from each other, he jumped out of his car and began to berate my husband with language usually reserved for bar fights.

Seriously, dude. Orlando is supposed to be the happiest place in the world. Well, since we weren’t at Disney, I guess he didn’t feel obligated. And the kids in his car? They'll probably end up as angry and rude as he is. Or maybe they'll grow up ashamed to call him Dad.

I guess the truth is that it’s not the youth of America that’s in trouble. It's always been like this. There have always been rude people who take advantage of their place in line. Kids soak it all up. They learn to act the way they do somewhere, but the parents aren’t willing to admit when we mess up.

What do you think? Let me know by posting your comment below.

What's this all about?

The saying goes “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything,” but what does this really mean? In my Young Adult novel, EVERYBODY’S FOOL (check out the link on this page's right panel), that is the critical question for the main character, but I didn’t understand until I remembered what growing up was like for me.

I was what you would call a wanna-be in high school. I wanted to be popular. I wanted to go to the popular parties and have the best best friends, but I had no clue how to do that. I was essentially a loner watching the world go by and waiting for the best moment to jump on board.

I knew the things I liked until someone came up with something better. Music? Styx was good, so was Journey and Poison, then I heard Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA album. Now what? I settled the radio dial on the Top 40 station because that’s what everyone else was doing. That’s what the rest of my life was like. I didn’t want to risk rejection, so I just liked what everyone else liked.

That’s a dangerous thing to stand for. I felt myself slipping in a lot of ways.

The thing is, my mom had this saying she would repeat to me and my sister when we were growing up: “You’re not getting married until you get your PhD.” It was a joke that we tossed around when we needed a laugh. Mom dropped out of high school and got her GED to marry my father not because she was pregnant (she wasn't) but because she was in love and wanted to get on with her life. We knew she had no leg to stand on with her rule, but it stuck. It was what kept me grounded. I needed to focus on my future before I let other things take over.

That’s what this blog is all about. I’ll be looking at issues on the minds of America’s youth. I’ll also be looking at young people who have taken a stand for what they believe in, because that’s one of the hardest things to do when you’re still trying to fit in.

I’m not a psychologist or any kind of expert. I’m a writer and an observer.  About me and that Popularity Train? I tried to jump on board a couple of times. I had a few laughs and a few good memories, but I kept jumping off when the crowd would change the train’s direction.

And that PhD? Yeah, not really me, but I never veered too far from my lifeplan. The thing is, I was never willing to put myself out there and stand for something that might not be acceptable to my peers. That’s why I’m in awe of people who stand tall and proud.

I think the future of our nation is fine, and I plan to find the stories that will showcase how you are my heroes.