About Face!

I laughed out loud when I ran across this tonight. Not because this young girl was arrested, but because she has my name. Ah, I love the Internet, so plentiful with all its pitfalls, confusions, traps, and mistakes. Obviously, that isn't me. She was apparently booked in Arkansas. I've been on the West Sigh-eed for the last thirty years, yo. If it were me I'd probably be trying to get it taken down, or looking into whether such a thing is even ethical. Sometimes you take things with a grain of salt: lots of people have your name. Sometimes you take things head-on: That is not me. And sometimes you do both.

Speaking of taking things head-on, I thought I'd post a "reprint" of an article I wrote last year. Seeing as how this blog is semi-themed toward reaching other young women like myself -- maybe students, moms, hard workers --I think it's wildly important for all women to take heed. . . perhaps the young woman in the mugshot, too. My husband, who is white, says she's 2000 miles away, looks nothing like me, and he assures me that most white people do not think that all dark-skinned people look the same. We haven't stayed together for ten years by being politically correct. Anyway. The Article.

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Cyber-stalking, Bullies, and Emotional Terrorism
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With a great sigh... it's time for me to spotlight a subject that I dread. It's uncomfortably close to me and very, very ugly in the spotlight. As a victim, though, I feel obligated to speak. I hate being a victim, and pity doesn't pay the bills. But I do believe it's my duty to all vulnerable people at large, mostly young women, to impart what I've experienced in order to prevent it from happening to anyone else.

Stalking, cyber-stalking, hacking. Emotional terrorism. Privacy-invasion. These are crimes by unhinged individuals against unsuspecting prey: Members of on-line communities, of social networks, and of seemingly innocuous forums for advice and common activity.

First I begin with confession; repetition, if you're paying attention. Yes. I have had a stalker, a rather sadistic one. This person has invaded my privacy, and has made the Internet a threatening environment in which I've resorted to using pseudonyms (Makaia, which is an alternate spelling of my middle name, the name I use to post here; and Kaia, which is obviously a shortening of Makaia)to remain anonymous and hidden from their attacks. But no more. I will not hide anymore or remain silent, especially as things have gotten a ridiculous. This person – a middle-aged man -- opened fake social networking accounts in my real name in an attempt to sniff me out as well as get in a little humiliation while he was at it. Maybe you've heard of similar things of late, with the gay girl blog hoax going around the wired.

A common thing for stalkers to think is that they're “saving” their victims. This is ridiculous, of course. What they want is absolute control over their victim. They're the worst abusers walking the planet, with a full-blown God complex for believing that their state of mind is a) healthy and infallible, and b) a hard set of rules that must be followed. If rebelled against, their ideal world begins to splinter and crack, which to them justifies their destructive behavior. They become threatening, abusive, and possibly physically dangerous to others. Oftentimes they appear charismatic with their fixations and idiosyncrasies -- until they're denied what they want.

It's nearly impossible to convince a very sick individual that they need help, just as hard as it is trying to convince friend or family member that they may need therapy after a traumatic event. Adults develop a natural resistance to help, when gone are the days of childlike curiosity and willingness to ask questions and find new ways to approach obstacles. It's a brick wall until they come to their senses, often at the cost of something like their freedom or wellbeing or the easy predictability in their world.

So, onto some methods of stalking -- new methods enabled by new technology. There's a special brand of invasion into a smartphone called cloning. The symptoms are very specific and hard to ignore once you know them. I had them. Make sure you do not.

A little story: Three years ago, I severed ties with a small on-line writing group after finding Trojans and worms in my machine. I learned that the only way to acquire these particular nasties was in downloading infested documents. The only place I downloaded said documents was in 2008, from our small Yahoo! Group with only 6 or 7 members; a place for uploading chapters from our stories and giving each other critiques. The platform was such that you had to download files in order to read each other's stories, Word files and PDFs, and you uploaded your critiques, which were then downloaded by the writer and perhaps by other interested members.

So over about a year, we shared our little novels and exchanged our little critiques. It was meaningless fun and frustration, at times very tense, but a positive learning experience. I didn't think I needed any other forums and was very comfortable with sharing with everyone there. Needless to say, I didn't surf for any other forums or groups. I didn't download files from any other sources, I didn't click on ad-banners, and I didn't visit porn sites, which are usually a good source for computer viruses. Having an IT knowledgeable spouse (and being proudly intermediate myself) means I understood a lot of information that average computer users do not. I knew how to navigate my way safely through the Net.

Turns out I fell victim to attack, not from clicking on and downloading everything in sight, but due to my trusting nature and stubborn belief that all people are basically good. Why would I mistrust a small group of writers who had also quickly become my friends?

One day I noticed my computer acting quite strange. It had the symptoms of a worm. It was nearly interminable, and the process to get rid of it was painstaking and time-consuming. A lot of research showed that, for this particular attack, the nasty executable files had to be embedded in documents. Since I downloaded nothing else, most likely these documents were the chapters from “someone's” book. So you can bet that everyone in that tiny group was infected -- being spied on and having all their sensitive information closely monitored by a seriously ill individual. One friend from the group (the only one I kept after leaving) told me later that her machine suffered a devastating virus and that she too would never return to on-line writing groups. She probably had the same roll call of Trojans and worms that I had. All our files, including videos, novels, e-tax returns and all sensitive documents, really, including family and private photos – everything was invaded and likely captured by this person to do with as he pleased.

I left that group when my husband and I exterminated all the viruses. I swore never to download documents from an “on-line community” again, meaning I wouldn't be joining any writers' groups again. I ran across this article not too long after, the outcry of a woman who had witnessed the ill effects of an under-governed on-line writing community. Her words, although seemingly harried and fearful, never washed off. I had seen similar things. I felt culpable for never speaking out, for not reporting abuse, and not realizing when the same was happening to me. Again: No more.

I – we – are safe now, as the proper authorities are involved and there was never any impending physical harm, but I felt that the situation would remain a point of fear for me if I didn't discuss it. I feel human doing so. If your smart phone/computer is displaying similar symptoms, you will know what to look for. You will know that although things might be edging into the Twilight Zone, and you might not want to confess, that you can, and should.

For those that have had similar experiences, gather your strength and blog about it, publish it, tell the world. Report it. Tell your mom, no matter how old you are; tell your sister, your husband, the police. Tell everyone who you think it is, where you think they are, what you believe they have done. Loved ones listen and take action. Turn the tables and make your stalker feel like the stalked. Do not remain a victim just because the attacks are silent and virtually invisible.

Strength Is A Sentence

When you know someone -- and I mean really know them, perhaps love them, admire -- and the only flaws you can discern are physical, the flaws, then, reside in you.

Art Decaf: A Snifter of Portfolio

Anahita - sketched quickly with a black fineliner. She was originally a character from one of my stories. The provocative pose says nothing of her true character, which I later determined was a prim and composed, but weary, leader. . . . Freudian?

Astrian & Eve - sketched first with ink then prismacolors added along with flecks of acrylic paint here and there. This is the upper left corner of a much larger piece of work that took me close to a year to finish. I donated it to this e-zine about three years ago. Again, these two are characters from my stories. When I can't write, I draw; when I can't draw, blah blah. Much of the inspiration for my writing comes from envisioning the characters and some of their "adventures", then putting them in ink. I can't say that's what I set out to do; it just sort of happened. I've got about a hundred sketches of these particular characters in various poses, clothing, armor, naked, etc.

Aylea - another fast sketch, this time in pencil. Aylea is the protagonist of a novelette, written by a friend. I finished her story then picked up my sketch book, drew Aylea, scanned her, and sent her via e-mail to my friend. She was very happy. And so was I, because she was.

Reaching - a not-so-quick sketch done in black charcoal and a black fineliner. It's a da Vinci homage. Specifically, to this drawing. After studying his work, I became fascinated with armor and helmets, shields and swords, etc. There's a Japanese flavor to this one, of course. Overall it is, hopefully, a genuine blend of styles between Yoshitaka Amano's work and Leonardo da Vinci's.

English Landscape - I shot this piece with my iPhone. Oil pastels on yellowed parchment; originally finished overnight, due for an assignment the following morning. I was convinced I couldn't produce anything worthwhile with oil pastels. I'd never tried them before. The medium is pretty challenging, too -- oily. But it quickly became fun, and once I got the hang of it, I deliberately used every color in the box. Got no sleep, but did receive an A and have since become open to all mediums and combining them.

Dragon Eye logo - a quick little inking -- literally little, only about 3x2 inches -- that I doodled on graph paper (maybe during math class). It's obviously assymetric, while the graph lines hold it steady. I imagined it in the upper left-hand corner of a t-shirt for some reason. That, or a tattoo.

Firefly - a work in progress, all bold ink lines that are dying for some color. I'm posting this one to show how I go from zero to 100 colors using pencils (truly wonderful pencils. Truly). This image is a photo shot with my iPhone in our dining room. The sunlight in there was perfect; certainly better than the light inside my scanner, which tends to bleed through grainier types of paper. I started this picture out by measuring several triangles then figuring out which body part, sword, or wing fit non-awkwardly into each one. It's striving towards geometry and assymetry at once, while keeping the body in "motion." It was a challenge for sure, and at first I wondered why I gave it to myself, but pushing the boundaries simply gets you better results. And I'm satisfied with the results, if a little hesitant to place permanent color on her, knowing how specific each area was and how dramatic the lighting will have to be, Rembrandt dramatic, maybe. Again, Renaissance cuisine with Japanese flavor. This one's next on my hit list, after my current WIP.

Wind & Rain - I snapped a photo of the piece with my iPhone. India ink and black coffee were combined to stain white illustration board. This painting is an oldie, but a favorite. My husband says it's gotten better with age as the coffee's grown yellower, almost gold -- and I agree; the stains finally resemble the sunbeams I intended. It was my introduction to using India ink with calligraphy pens and rabbit hair brushes. He is the wind, and she is the rain.

The Fleuracle - the foreground is ink and pencils, the background velvety black marker. The moon aligns with her crystal ball as she sprouts up like a night-blooming flower. She was for a Halloween short story idea that included many tiny creatures such as faeries and elves and insects.

Mushrooms and Moonfrogs - Ink, color pencils, some crayon, another one shot with my iPhone because this one's too delicate to crumple into a scanner bed.  I wanted to create the most vibrant nightscape possible, everything shining and bluish and surreal. If the little frogs are poisonous. she doesn't care at all.

Patron Saint of Nursing - black fineliner and marker. Yes, there is a patron saint of nursing. While drawing her I thought 'tattoo' because it seems like such a definitive stamp: medical professional, geeky-cool, rebel with a clue.

Number 9

Here's a link to a nice review of the Australian journal that my poem, "The Flute's Song", was published in earlier this year. (The link to the issue is on this blog's menu of affiliated links. . . over there--------->).

It was my first published poem, the experience one of those special little (momentous, ginormous) events in a newbie writer's life. Etchings has an awesome staff, an impressive journal, and an elegant collection of writing, photography, and interviews (including one with Adam Elliot, an Oscar winner!) in Issue #9.

If by chance you're a writer, check out their website, read some of the free content to get an idea of what they like (perhaps buy a copy -- it's a lovely book!), and drop them a submission. The deadline for Issue #11 is drawing near. . . .

A Little From Column A and a Little From Column B

This post is probably mostly for women and about physical appearance, a topic that I avoid because there are plenty enough birds out there squawking (and definitely tweeting) about it already. Perhaps then it's also about perception, which I strongly believe is more philosophical than it is visual or physical.

What this is not: The proclamation of a feminist; the rantings/ravings of a mad woman; a passive-aggressive attack on any individual on the planet. This might be categorized as cautionary, if anything. So. If during a random sequence of events a stranger said you were ugly, and then soon after another stranger said you were beautiful, who would you listen to? Who should you listen to? Is it a matter of opinion, or is it fact?

A stranger asks with sincere curiosity, "What, are you 22, 23 years old?" Another makes a point of recommending an eye cream to you for your "problem areas." Who do you believe? Either someone is lying, and likely has something to gain from your low self-esteem, or someone is trying to get something out of you and stands to gain from your high self-esteem. Both of these options are likely, and sensible, although the latter is somewhat unlikely because a random compliment from anyone -- a stranger -- shouldn't garner much from you beyond a ladylike oh-why-thank-you smile or, at the absolute max, the shy acquiescent giggle.

Obviously, someone gaining from your low self-esteem is far more damaging. And far more common -- someone is going to be happy that you're miserable because there's a profit of some kind in there somewhere. That's just the way it be. I'd be daft to give out clichéd advice like "just listen to what your loved ones and friends say", because loved ones have your love to maintain; that is, your own mother isn't going to tell you you're ugly, and a true friend probably isn't looking to become your enemy. Neither should we take our loved ones' compliments too seriously, as we know they love us and will say things to that effect. So who do you listen to, who do you ignore.

I will say that I think the media has a corner in the self-esteem market, and generally it's looking to distort your view of yourself so you'll buy its sponsored advertisers' products. There are people out there who literally get rich off of how ugly and fat and imperfect you think you are; they need women miserable because Miserable will purchase anything that might make her Happy.

But what about Content? We are none of us symmetrical. Smile and admit. Art mimics us; it's what we'd like to be and yes, it's beautiful. But it's not real. All of the media's images and ideals, those on magazine racks and in commercials, are airbrushed with cosmetics, Photo-shopped to look skinnier, touched and retouched, or follow someone's script. When you look at that stuff, you absolutely should not believe you are seeing perfection and then start stressing about what you are lacking in comparison. If you do, you have effectively become the victim of low self-esteem, and eventually you'll become a needy, wiry little bramble of misery.

Don't.

You control how you think about yourself, you, and no one else. If you take care of yourself, and take pride in what you can do well, you can be content. You can know that you're already doing everything you should be doing to maintain healthy self-esteem, and you'll find yourself perfectly capable of deciding what's real and what isn't and who to listen to or ignore.

Marketing the Dead

Got this as a gift tonight. Yes I do consider dead butterflies as gifts, especially when they die with artistic drama. Real ones make great models for art projects like this one.


I made those last year for Halloween, and they were sturdy enough to wear again about a month ago this past Halloween. Last year I was looking around the Internet to buy a pair but couldn't find what I was looking for, and so. . . . I got like eighty feet of aluminum wire, boxes of black nylons, and four colors of acrylic paint. Took about a week and $15, really fun to do. What I was not expecting when I wore them this year, was offers for them! It seems there's a market for almost anything? Someone suggested eBay and I said hmm, interesting. . . . I've only done it once but I could probably do it again; supplies are cheap. The only foreseeable issue is that it's niche-y--and really, who wants them any time other than October?--so garnering traffic might have to be as creative a process as making the wings.

If You're Evil and You Know It

Tonight I stumbled -- and by that I mean searched for -- a certain writer's blog. Interesting things there. In one recent post he was addressing the fact that one of his readers -- of the 1st book of his trilogy which shall remain nameless -- insinuated that to write such evil heartless characters he too must be a bit evil and heartless. He went on to defend himself valiantly, stating that he didn't think thriller writers, mystery writers and the like were actually like the characters they wrote. 

 

....Which is funny, because....I always kind of thought they were. Neil Gaiman at times manages to write himself -- perhaps by injecting his voice -- into so many of his stories, and with a highly effective subtlety. I always imagine him as the Sandman (maybe it's just me), and Dave McKean seemingly lent The Dream King Neil's punk rock hair in homage. 

 

Jacqueline Carey's Phedre, in my mind, is poised like an avatar for the author herself. Her voice is so seemingly close to my ear that I imagine the tale comes from Carey's perspective, and although the tale is gorgeously obviously fictitious, there is enough of her voice in it to give Phedre a distinct human texture derived from experience, human error, love, etc. 

 

And let's not even get into Laurell K Hamilton, who (so I have heard) not only has a license to carry a gun in her purse -- tres girl power -- but somewhat looks and acts like her 25 year old serial-dating vampire-hunter Anita Blake. 

 

Octavia Butler blended techno sci-fi with young black heroines who suffered social injustices or who lived through abuses to tell; Charles Dickens famously wrote about himself and/or people he knew; Poe did the same; Orwell took themes of oppression and tyranny from society then blended in characters with his own -- at the time, very rebellious -- thoughts ingrained. Juliet Mariller is a Druidess, and all of her books center around Druids and ancient mystical rites and magic. Blake Charlton is an author who had to overcome learning disabilities, dyslexia specifically, to become an MD, and his character Nicodemus faces similar challenges, overcoming them the only way the author himself knew how, which he presumably acquired through personal experience.

 

And finally-- I made up the character Gianni with myself in mind, not the part about being a boy and getting ass-raped by da Vinci, but the part of him that felt crippled by his own mother and the jumpiness and aloofness he exhibited thenceforth. Also the way he refuses to trust the world, the way he questions the motives of everyone, yet will risk himself and spend himself to nurture the right person. We are too empathetic and we know what the cure is but we pretend we don't. I wrote me into him consciously. I was aware and that was the point; it made him authentic and it made him mine. 

 

What's the point. All authors write, to some extent, what they know, because you have to know about something rather intimately in order to write about it convincingly; either you have to have experienced it or you spend a great deal of time studying it to put yourself in your character's shoes. I studied the Renaissance period extensively, in and out of class, in order to capture the right feeling in Eye of Narkissos; ergo, I had to study one facet, and then derived the rest from what I've gone through. There are self-evident themes and thoughts and demons in my stories. I suspect they are in every author's stories, unless of course they are writing 500 word childrens' fables or Curious George books, and even then the monkey's adventures have to be based on something that someone either a) knows about personally, or b) studied to some extent. 

 

So, I feel like this author made a candy-coated pathetic attempt to deny his own evil, when he might have easily embraced it and pawned it off as- we all have tendencies, and writing is fucking art, and art reflects human nature. What about Bret Easton Ellis, author of American Psycho? He obviously put a personal touch on Patrick, perhaps even Evelyn, as he sculpted the David of sociopathic yuppie serial killers. No one cared how much of himself he put into it. It was controversial, it was genius, enlightening, maddening, and reflection: at one time or another we have all wanted to kill; if not, you are a slug or a side-dish veggie. What about Edgar Allan Poe? What about Stephen King? H.P Lovecraft? Harlan Ellison? That's why horror movies (like Saw and Vacancy) and violent videogames (most if not all are violent) dominate in entertainment, and Law and Order and NCIS and Criminal Minds are always on some channel at some time and probably on now as I type. 

 

I adore this author's work, honestly, and possess a great deal of respect which is why they remain nameless. However in my opinion, which this, my blog, is the enchanted land of, this author came off as inauthentic and graceless. He scuffed the human textures of his characters, so to speak, in an attempt to defend himself against one oddball opinion. You write a book about a villain, and of course you're evil inside; you've got to be. But inside. Where it's okay to think you're own thoughts and be yourself.  Perhaps I should be more upset with the fan, who posed the question in a near accusatory way. . . . Not sure.