Issue 14 is out! This issue concludes the EmotoSerial, Swing Zone, by author Jodi McClure and digital artist Zach Revale. Edited by yours truly.

Synopsis:

The purists run into problems during their covert city mission, leaving Mia in a dangerous position. Coltis must contend with Zavier Blancharde and his cruel idea of retribution, which includes an ultimatum that leaves Lakeside reeling. After an explosive encounter, Mia finds herself out on the streets. Coltis has a tense standoff with Drew and discovers just how Commander Blancharde has been using his newly found powers. When the dusts of war finally settle, which side of the line will Mia be on? Expect the unexpected in this huge, action-packed finale!

So I’m giving it to you, for free, if you comment below with the following:

1. Your favorite issue of Swing Zone and why

2. Your favorite character in Swing Zone and why

3. Your email address

That’s it. But you only have until the end of the day on Sunday, May 5th. After that the giveaway will be closed and I’ll only listen to your pleas if I really, really like you.

This giveaway is now closed.

But really, what I want to say is thank you. Thank you to all the readers of Swing Zone and the fans of Grit City Publications who have supported the creative teams in even the smallest ways. We do this all for you.

The thinking part of it is pretty impossible, but I think it’s most important that I stay positive on the exterior. It’s kind of like the threefold law, or karma, or whatever. The energy you send out gets returned to you. Energy is only borrowed, after all.

Admittedly, I was just tired of all the complaints. My Facebook newsfeed. The real news. The media. Everything. It was so bad that, at one point last year, I recognized that a single person I knew was always posting positive updates. Even when everything went to hell. Her optimism was inspiring. And practical, too, because expressing an attitude like that benefits everyone.

I’ve always found it useful to think in relative terms. Even at a point in my life when I was technically poor, I was still an American with opportunities to overcome it. Even when I’ve been depressed because a dozen little things didn’t go my way, I focused on everything else I have.

One thing that every American has, and almost every American takes for granted, is freedom. It’s a common subject to preach, especially in military culture. Freedom isn’t free. We know that because we’ve served or loved people who’ve served to protect our freedom.

I’m not saying that everyone else isn’t appreciative. But in general, there’s a lot of political commentary about recent and current wars and the motives behind them. I’m not discussing how our government might or might not abuse our troops. What I appreciate is the presence of our troops. Because without a military presence, we wouldn’t be able to defend our freedom.

Slavery, for most of us, is this vague far-away, long-ago concept. We forget that the whole world is not on our page. It’s easy to forget, really, in a culture like ours. So obsessed with other stuff…

We can read history books and books on cultures where slavery is still common or accepted. But it still exists a lot of surprising places, in some form or another. But we’re disconnected from the reality of that. What we need, to really understand, is empathy. And that doesn’t come from lectures, textbooks, or research.

It can come from fiction, though.

This is just one example. Fiction explores all kinds of themes in human history, society, and culture. The writers of these books do the research, then create the world and the characters to be real. To exist for a purpose. And within some of these stories, we can experience these themes we’d otherwise know nothing about.

Fiction can provide perspective.

That’s why literature is taught in schools. It is, actually, educational. So these adults I meet who don’t “waste” their time with fiction because it’s just “entertainment,” have probably not read much fiction to begin with. Because otherwise, they’d know better, right?

Fiction is life. It’s based on truth. It’s based on people. People write it. People consume it. It changes people. It can even inspire revolution. It has so much power. I can’t stand how easily it is disregarded by some.

Okay, rant over. So much for positivity.

In other news, my friend, Shawna, has created a fundraising team for MS. I interview her in my recent blog post at GCP’s website. Please help spread the word, and thanks in advance.

But sometimes I fail to appreciate this place. Not the house itself, but the region. It doesn’t lack beauty, but it’s so familiar. I grew up two townships over. Since I was a kid, I wanted to leave. And I did, but I returned and now, from time to time, I feel a little stuck. I’ve written about this before when I asked for travel fiction recommendations. Sometimes I’m satisfied to explore another place only mentally. Sometimes not.

The word, “touristy,” has a negative connotation because so many people have claimed they’re not attracted to touristy places. As though a tourist attraction is not authentic. But it is, in its own way. Museums, landmark buildings, famous restaurants… they’re all touristy. But they were once pretty cool, and that’s why they’re popular.

To me, it doesn’t matter. I like some buildings, some museums… but a museum can be anywhere. A restaurant can be anywhere. Buildings don’t adapt to the land around them. They’re superficial, like a layer that needs peeled away before you can appreciate the difference in location.

It’s not just about how the land appears. Whether I’m looking at rocky red cliffs, twiggy woodlands, an Eastern shoreline, or barren plains; all places, in their images, are beautiful. But the land has an energy to it. The air has a feeling. And it’s drastically different from place to place, if you pay attention.

I imagine every person would explain it differently, depending on their perspectives. But to me, most of the Northeast is heavy. The air is harder to breathe, just by a little. It’s beautiful here, with four seasons and breath-taking landscapes. But the land has always felt alien, like I’m not a part of it but walk upon it. Like a building.

There are exceptions. The woods, for one.  Whenever I played in the woods when I was younger, I felt like I could stay there forever. Now, from the highway, I look at some of the undeveloped woodlands around where I live, and I wonder how I could get there, and how I could justify doing so. Not something to pursue during hunting season, for certain.

I also love the energy of dense-living. I grew up in suburbia, so when I was a teenager and moved to the city, I was captivated by it. Yeah, it was less than ideal when my neighbors, who shared my duplex, brought home a beagle, or when my car almost got towed outside my apartment because the landlord thought it belonged to someone visiting the bar next door, or when just down the street, a celebratory riot broke out because the Steelers won the Super Bowl. Some things I don’t miss. Gunshots at night. Kids banging on stop signs outside my front door. But to this day, I love the older houses, and their styles, and the on-street parking, and the general chaos and energy of it all.

It’s not that I prefer all other places over this one. I’ve been to Iowa- I loved it, the land was flat, the snow was left to accumulate on roads and in parking lots (unlike in Pennsylvania), and it was a fun trip. But I’m not drawn to it. The same goes for the Florida Keys. Largo was my favorite, or Marathon. But I was overwhelmed by their beauty, and I don’t remember exactly how they felt. Although they were not touristy, like Key West felt, but decidedly unique. I was fortunate to stay with some of the locals, and I was fascinated by their lifestyles. But I was not entirely envious.

My experience in California was a bit different because I could focus on the land. There was nothing else to focus on, other than a Carl’s Jr. and a motel. Even the barracks seemed temporary somehow, like a part of the land. The desert has always fascinated me.

But the air and the land in South Carolina is what I miss the most. The southern- but not that southern- and coastal- but not right on top of a beach- towns that I loved. Perhaps I miss it the most because I stayed there the longest. It was a short year, but everything was easier there. Easier to breathe. Easier to live.

And now you know the truth. I’m a little bit of a hippie. And it’s popular theory that I’m also crazy.

But there’s another reason I like to live in other places, and it’s possible this would eventually apply to anywhere I decided to settle down. When you pick a place and you find a home and you get a mortgage, you have roots. Those roots are not material gains, but rather the people you get to know. Eventually, you develop relationships with people in your area, and you become tied down by them. It’s not a bad thing. It can be a wonderful thing. But it’s a limiting thing. Not only because they make you hesitate to move away, but because for however long you stay, you’re surrounded by their particular perspectives and influences. There’s a reason why people from different places don’t just speak differently, but think differently.

There’s nothing wrong with how my friends think and act. I’ve come to love them dearly. But most people who live here, unless they’ve recently moved here from somewhere else, conform in the slightest ways to each other.

Sometimes it’s just nice to be that new person somewhere else.

I’m reading Honolulu by Alan Brennert. The story begins in Korea in the late 1800s/early 1900s, and it’s told from a female perspective. But the segregation and general sexist themes of the culture and time don’t make headlines in my mind. I’ve dealt with these controversial subjects in college and don’t always pay attention to them in fiction, beyond what they’re intended to portray. Instead, I looked at what that life had that ours doesn’t.

A sense of community and pride, for one.

The women, although separated from the males in their own families, were close to the other women in the village. They all shared the same responsibilities. Everyday, they’d meet at the creek to wash clothes– tediously, with a board and a bat– but they also used the time to socialize. The main character even pointed out that she enjoyed the repetitive motions and sounds of beating the clothes against the board. That makes total sense to me. But do modern Americans find enjoyment in any of our chores?

I do laundry several times a week. I do dishes daily. I clean the floors, clean up after the dogs, make food… all without really considering what I’m doing. I feel this vague sense of accomplishment once I’m finished, but that lasts only a moment before I’m on to the next thing. Why not enjoy the act of doing it? I’d be happy for a longer period of time.

Our lives are so convenient. I’m not saying that we should forgo our automatic washing machines and wash our clothes in the creek, but we’re pretty quick to complain about “laundry day” as though it actually takes us an entire day to launder our family’s clothes. And so what if it did? We’d be outdoors, doing a mild form of exercise, with less time for sedentary things like watching TV.

Now we complain that we’re too busy for time outside, and then we complain that we don’t get outdoors enough. But what are we so busy doing? Seems like adapting a simpler lifestyle would not only make us rearrange our priorities, but also make us appreciate what we have.

We don’t come together as communities anymore. I’m lucky if I run into one single person I know at the grocery store. We don’t make time to socialize. We work long hours to acquire things we don’t need, then complain about not having the time to enjoy them. Material, unimportant things.

So sometimes, when I read books or watch movies about how things used to be, I don’t focus on all the bad. I recognize the bad, and how we’ve evolved, but I see also what we’ve lost. Because I think we should get it back.

But then, I’m a little different.

Speaking of differences, I went to the dentist yesterday. This is always an adventure. The people who worked at my former dentist’s office all knew me, so conversation was familiar and easy. This new place, though, is just amusing. First, it’s a dental spa. Not an office. A spa. They ask you if you’d like a hand massage while you get your teeth cleaned. It totally freaks me out. Then they give you a rose when you leave. Also creepy.

Last time I was there, the hygienist asked me about life and, of course, I spoke idly of my son. It turns into this:

Hygienist: “Aw that’s so sweet that you have a baby.”

Me: “Yes, thanks. But that’s why I can’t have any local. I’m nursing.”

Hygienist: “Aw how old is your baby?”

Me: “Um about 18 months.”

Hygienist: “Oh…”

I felt zero obligation to defend myself or explain the merits of extended breastfeeding to this girl. She didn’t speak to me the rest of the visit, though.

Yesterday, it was a different hygienist, but still fun.

Hygienist: “Do you watch The Bachelorette?”

Me: “No.”

Hygienist: “It’s my favorite show. It’s down to two. I can’t wait to find out who it will be on Monday.”

Me: Silence, although it’s only Wednesday, so I’m wondering what this girl does with her life if she’s so stuck on this one TV show days in advance.

Hygienist: “Do you watch any TV shows?”

Me: “Yeah. The Walking Dead and Sons of Anarchy.”

Hygienist: “Oh. I’ve never heard of them. What are they about?”

Me: “Zombies and motorcycle gangs.”

Hygienist: “Oh…”

Yep. I let the uncomfortable silence hang on there for the next 10 minutes or so. Just for fun.

I’m not saying it’s uninteresting, but I struggled to pick out the interesting points. When you write a self-help/inspirational book, you want people to get so caught up in your words that they feel inspired and transformed. You don’t want them consciously searching for wisdom. Every time I felt like I was gleaning something from an idea, the next paragraph would put me off.

In addition, the book is chock-full of assignments, like writing daily morning pages and going on weekly dates… with yourself. I’m not lazy, but I don’t have the time to free-write for two pages every morning. People need breakfast. Dishes need put away. That kind of thing. I can’t justify journal-writing my time way. That said, I see how it could help people. Just not me. I’ve been journaling and free-writing for most of my life. I’m naturally analytical and introspective. And I don’t want silly morning pages taking up my time.

I’m also not going to hire a sitter so I can wander around by myself someplace. I don’t get much alone time, and I recognize that as a sacrifice, but it’s one I’m more than happy to make in order to be a mother. Sorry, “inner child artist,” but my real child comes first.

I think the book would’ve been better if it had been written more directly with less distractions. Artists, as a rule, are a little scatter-brained anyway. I don’t think anyone needs to read something that isn’t concise enough to make sense.

Speaking of distraction, I recently rediscovered one of my favorite musicians of all time. Noah Gundersen’s song, “Family,” graced the closing scene of an episode of Sons of Anarchy, and during another episode, his song, “David,” accompanied a particularly powerful scene. Since then, I’ve fallen in love with him. At least with his voice, since I didn’t know what he looked like until I stumbled upon his music video for “Fire” at Connor’s blog. Now I’m much more in love with him. I’m going to post it here because it’s one of the best music videos I’ve ever seen… ever.

What makes it so unique is that it’s creative, artistic, and yet simple. There are no embellishments. None of the images distract from the music or from the lyrics. The video is professional and beautiful in its simplicity, but not boring. I can watch it repeatedly for some time (and I have because my son enjoys it as well.) Noah’s presence, sincerity, and focus only emphasize the power of each lilt and word of the song. And it is, by the way, my favorite song by him.

When you’re a parent, you don’t age along with your own milestones. When I turn 30, I’ll be thinking, “Oh sweet, I’m 30. That’s cool.” Same with 40, and so on. But when my son turns 5, 10, 15… then I’ll be thinking, “Wow, I feel old.” It’s kind of like having a pet that’s been with you for a long time. When I was a newlywed, I bought my husband a puppy while he was deployed. The dog was actually born a day or two before or after we married, and I brought him home 7 weeks later, a day after I returned from visiting the hubby in 29 Palms for a week. That, by the way, was not a honeymoon. That was me stranded on a military base watching Spanish television and staring at never-ending desert by myself 14 hours a day. But I digress. That dog has been with us almost since day one of our married life adventures, so I can always remember how old he is by thinking of how long I’ve been married, and vice versa. It’s never, “Oh wow, I’ve been married for seven years!” It’s usually, “Damn, that dog is getting old. Wow, we’ve been married for a while, too.” It’s all about perspective.

Admittedly, it’s comforting having ties into my past like the dog. Pretty much anything that stems from my younger days has been completely abandoned, so having some kind of consistency in my life for seven years is an accomplishment. Of course, this applies to my husband and not just the dog. But even throughout our marriage, we’ve moved so much and changed so often, adapting to different lifestyles, jobs, and neighborhoods. I think the dog is a nice reminder for both of us. Even if we chart our lives at beginning the day we decided to elope, we have roots somewhere. And that dog is proof. Even if he makes us feel old. Which, actually, he doesn’t. But then, I have uncommon views on aging.

Moving on. I noticed that WordPress sneaks ads into my posts. And not just ads, but video ads! The thing that disturbs me most about this is that these videos appear to be part of my post, as though I included them intentionally. I don’t remember WordPress doing this in the past. It makes me sad.

I can’t complain, I guess. It’s a free site, after all. I don’t pay for the domain or the software or anything. But that’s only because I don’t know how. I didn’t realize this at the time, but taking college classes in web and document design is useless unless you couple those classes with technical ones. Rarely does someone want to hire you to design a website that you can’t actually create. And if I knew anything truly useful, no one would be subjected to advertisements on my blog. Alas, such is not the case, and I apologize for that.

Some people are just borderline stalkers. On Facebook, they never post, comment, or “like” anything, but they seem to read and know everything. That’s kinda weird, if you ask me, but to each their own. Some people just like to talk about themselves. They never seem to comment on anything but post, as often as hourly, about their own lives. Which is also kinda weird, but perhaps I only think that because I value privacy at least on some level. I might also underestimate how much my friends care about my quotidian adventures… but I doubt that.

Twitter is a different story because of its impersonal nature. You can amass thousands of follows and you don’t need to know them. Obviously, this is beneficial if you need to network or market your skills or products. There are hundreds of other sites, like Google+, Pinterest, MySpace, Tumblr, Instagram, LinkedIn, CafeMom, SheWrites… the list goes on, possibly forever. I don’t want to find out.

The one I want to talk about is Pinterest.

I appreciate the convenience of social media because many of my close friends are scattered throughout the country, and the world, and I probably couldn’t keep in touch with them as well otherwise. However, I dislike social media because it’s a timesink. I can’t, with good conscience, schedule time into my day to browse through the nonsense that populates my newsfeeds, but if I don’t, I risk missing out on actual news, or at least big announcements or things that interest me. I’ve tried to rebel against the social media phenomenon several times. I’ve always caved. My latest claim was that I would never, ever own an account on Pinterest.

Why? Pinterest has this reputation that only bored housewives use it for do-it-yourself crafts and pointless, time-consuming projects. That was my first impression, anyway. I kept seeing Pinterest links to really silly stuff, and I wanted none of it. But then… I caved. I don’t remember why, specifically, but upon my acquiescence, I started finding some amazingly delicious recipes. Then, I started finding unique ideas for showers and parties I was planning to host. Then, I started finding creative ideas for kids’ activities. And THEN I stumbled upon my mostest favoritest Pinterest category ever: Art.

I collect art pins like I’m an addict, and I am. And it’s fun.

Did you know social media could be fun?

It’s still a timesink, especially if you only follow the people you know and you never browse by the categories that interest you. But it doesn’t matter too much, because there’s no pressure. You don’t need to be up-to-date on all your friends’ pins. And if you don’t log in for weeks or months at a time, no one will miss you. Fun, low maintenance, and a bit unpredictable with varied interests; it’s like my social media soulmate.

I do, however, have a husband. And said husband will not allow baby boy to wear pink. He has a play grill outside, and no kitchen (despite how he loves playing with them at his friends’ houses), and he has innumerable trucks and no dolls. Fine with me.

(But when I take baby boy shopping and he finds the sparkly headbands and puts them on his head with great glee, I don’t hesitate to take photos and send them to the hubby.)

Anyway… there is one specific convention that I just never understood, and that is:

UNICORNS.

Actually, I don’t get the horse thing at all. Horses are massive, powerful, dangerous creatures. Why do girls tend to go through horse phases and not boys? Why are all the horse and pony toys pink and sparkly? Horses are not pink and sparkly!

I know. I grew up with horses. My family owns and breeds horses. They are huge, capable, awe-inspiring animals.

So let’s add a freakin’ horn to the middle of their foreheads and make them that much more formidable. If a unicorn approached me in the wild, I would immediately find a tree to climb to get away from it. I couldn’t outrun it. And it could spear me through the heart with little to no effort.

Even if it was sparkly.

I bought a painting of a unicorn from a flea market a few years ago. It wasn’t what you’d expect; it was a unicorn war horse. This thing had muscles where no horse ever had muscles. It was stacked. And yeah, it also had a horn. It was the scariest animal I’d ever seen.

And unicorns, if they existed, would be pretty frightening to the average sane person.

Horses are also wild. People seem to forget that. No matter how domesticated their breed, foals are born wild. They must be “broken.” Trained. Tamed. And considering the will and size of the animal, it’s not an easy process.

Try telling a horse trainer to train a wild horse with a horn. See how that goes.

You’d think boys would be totally into unicorns, right? Well, I’m taking the unicorn back. I’m going to teach my son that unicorns are ferocious, savage beasts, and he will love them. And my husband will bombard me with icy glares the entire time. And it will all be worth it.

Another reason for me to grow my own fruits and vegetables. Nothing against Honduras, of course, but I think most sane people prefer to eat locally grown food. It’s not a trust issue. It just seems more natural to eat food that’s in season for the region in which I live.

But according to the grocery store, nothing can grow here. So I figure I’ll just move to where the plants grow. Central America or South America… but most definitely not North America, right?

Q: What is the most surprising thing about our world that you would tell past generations if you could time travel?

A: I have a small device that I carry in my pocket that allows me access to an unlimited stream of uncensored information… and I use it to look at funny pictures of cats and get into arguments with strangers.

The result of being new to this age, or not taking advantage of this age, is that although we have access to a lot, we don’t know a lot about anything. We’re more likely dabble in everything but remain experts at nothing. Hence the inevitable abuse of power.

This video highlights one example. People have access to typeface- they can use it however they want regardless of how it was intended to be used. But isn’t access to fonts and the ability to create fonts a good thing? Think of how many doors this has opened. People don’t hand write anything anymore. But of course there’s a downside to all advancements in technology, right?

The same principle applies to my recent argument about expressing naïve, uneducated political opinions through social media. People shouldn’t complain so much about seeing controversial subjects thrown around, even if they are sometimes kinda stupid. Let’s focus on what this signifies instead: revolutionary times. Almost gone are the days that we’re limited to debates with personal friends and afraid to express political loyalties to the public. That’s a very good thing, even if it means people with no regard to real politics decide to take passionate stances and express them.

You just have to look through the topic- what people are saying- and recognize what their opinions really mean. A changing world. A freer world.

Where people are free to abuse fonts like Comic Sans with awe-inspiring apathy. And get into arguments with strangers.