2021 - not the return to normal

I'm working part-time, consistently, for 2-3 clients at any given time, and it's been fantastic. But all of the jobs are related to the pandemic crisis on some way - I would not had them had this crisis not happened - and that's beyond surreal and sad. 

I'm still home, venturing out only to walk my doggy. I don't even pick up groceries or fetch take-out - I'm too frightened of the new coronavirus variants, so Stefan has to do it all now (he's fully vaccinated). I'm supposedly eligible as of May 1 now, but you have to get a small miracle to get an appointment - my 80+ neighbor was eligible for eight weeks before she finally was able to get hers. I still think I may not be vaccinated until the Fall. 

As those of you who are getting the vaccine excitedly post about your plans for the summer, please remember that a lot of us still have to stay home, we have no access to a vaccine - and that millions around the world have no access at all and won't this year at all. What I'm saying is... maybe lay off the "Look where I am!!!" vacation photos for 2021. And if you can, find someone over 65 that hasn't gotten the vaccine yet, and help them sign up to get it. 

People have been posting since April of LAST year, "What the first thing you're going to do when this is over?!?" As though there is going to be this singular moment when it's safe to "return to normal." I've avoided doing that because it's unrealistic and I don't want to think about all the things I'm desperately needing. 

When I feel safe enough to get on mass transit again - and it will be with a mask and maybe even a face shield - I'll know we've turned a corner. And where will I go when that happens? 

• To get my hair cut and colored (though Stefan has been doing a great job). 
• To a museum. 
• Maybe to the movies. 

I'll also be willing to go camping (and use a public restroom) and to go into the grocery to shop. And all of that will be enough to make me extraordinarily happy.   

What I won't be doing until I think it's safe (and that means not in 2021):

• Going to an indoor performance.
• Going into a crowd of any kind, even outdoors.

When you speak only to belittle

There's a scene in Fried Green Tomatoes that rings so, so true, and is incredibly painful. It's when the Kathy Bates character, Evelyn, is leaving a grocery store and a young guy walks right into her, pushing her. Her groceries fall out of her hands and when she looks up, he says something to her - I don't remember what. But it's rude. She follows him outside and this is the exchange:

Evelyn: Excuse me young man there was no reason for you to be so rude to me back there.

Boy: Get away from me you fat cow!

Evelyn: [stunned and hurt]  What did you call me?

Boy at Supermarket : Beat it you old bitch!

Evelyn: Why are you being so mean to me? What have I ever done to you?

And she kneels and cries as she tries to pick up the groceries that have now fallen out of one of the torn bags. 

It's a scene that's hurt my heart both because I can't imagine being randomly cruel to someone and because things like that have happened to me. I guess all women and girls have had these moments - where someone, usually a man or someone younger than us, calls us a bitch or does something else to mock us and belittle us, to make us feel as bad as possible, usually with other people around. And they delight in that look of shock, hurt and fear in our eyes.  

The same kind of behavior happens online and, unfortunately, when others, especially men, see the behavior, they pile on, gleefully re-sharing the insults and adding their own. The online onslaught can be so overwhelming that it drives women to not only remove themselves from all online spaces but also to do things even more drastic, like quit jobs and relocate, not just to a new home but an entire new city. Or worse.  

That scene has been on my mind a lot, per an ugly bought of online and phone harassment last year. I've been targeted before, by a man who ran a company that was doing something illegal - I brought media and law enforcement attention to what he was doing and he ended up being forced to close shop, but not before he and a few others wrote some very angry, insulting messages on my blog. But the stuff in 2020 was scary, with phone calls, emails and texts to me, my family, and current and previous clients, as well as videos with insults and threats of lawsuits. It drove me to do as much online research as I could about how to handle online harassment.

Some friends chirped, "Well, I guess you'll just have to not be online!" Um... it's my job! If I go offline, what is it you want me to do for a living? Plus, I love being online - I have been online since the 1990s and it's brought me an incredible amount of joy and lifelong friends, even playing a huge role in me meeting my husband. Also, going offline doesn't stop the bullying, as that scene from Fried Green Tomatoes illustrates all too well. 

When women complain about being harassed, please offer them support. Don't tell them about how they need to withdraw from online - or onsite - spaces. 

I didn't know Lee MacMillan. I've only just learned about her. She was a social media star, documenting her travel adventures and road trips in her van. She had many thousands of followers on Instagram and more than 50,000 subscribers on YouTube. She was gorgeous, and her travel videos and photos are polished, perfectly edited and perfectly filmed and framed, presenting perfect pictures of a very beautiful girl-loving life on the road. She clearly brought joy to many, many people. 

But as is openly talked about by her family in online articles, she had also fought depression, and like all of us, whether we admit it or not, was struggling with all of the pressures of the global pandemic, which had taken away her life's work of travel blogging. In October 2020, she revealed on social media that she had come off her anti-depressants after being on them for several months, and was undergoing cognitive behavioral therapy. In the beautiful tribute written for her Instagram page, it's noted:

MacMillan was an advocate for mental health. She was candid and open about her own struggles. She was receiving help: from professionals, from family, from friends. She had support around her. She was not alone, she was not trying to fight this alone. And yet she still succumbed to this terrible illness. It is more nuanced than we can, or do, appreciate or understand.

I have no idea if I would have liked Lee MacMillan - I didn't know her! I have never seen any of her social media before now. But if I had been familiar with her social media accounts and I had decided I didn't like her based on that, I would never have said a word about her online. I don't produce social media commentary on someone just because the way they travel isn't my cup of tea. When I have been negative online - and I most certainly have been negative online - it's been because I have bothered (usually OUTRAGED) by egregious behavior or profound, even harmful, selfishness. 

You aren't going to see me posting about travel bloggers that don't travel like I do, unless they do things like ride elephants or pet "orphaned" animals for photos or promote pay-to-volunteer-and-hold-African-orphans. To write blogs and produce videos taunting travel bloggers who don't choose accommodations or food options that I would, that dress in a way I wouldn't, or that don't otherwise make choices like I do, is a fucking waste of time and energy and would just make ME look stupid. I don't care if I could make a few thousand dollars a year if I did it - that's a whole level of asshole I'm not going anywhere near. I'd rather be poor and ethical. 

Lee MacMillan was hit and killed by an Amtrak train in Santa Barbara last week. She stepped in front of the train on purpose. In addition to the stress of the pandemic and her mental health issues, her father said that she had been struggling with cyberbullying and, in the days before her death, had been the target of an online ‘pile-on’ to belittle her after she was ‘roasted’ in a YouTube video.

I was lucky - my online harasser last year has no following. His videos rarely get views or comments, including the ones about me. His tweets didn't get retweeted. He had no online army to mobilize against me. Even so, it was jarring to open up social media and see posts mocking my life's work, even my name.  

The person who made Lee MacMillan the target of his derision, who made a video with the sole purpose of gleefully mocking and insulting her, and mobilized others to join in, has deleted all of his social media content. I've already found a blogger trying to excuse him - "it was just a roast." I guess that the roast guy couldn't take all the insults now being thrown his way - he expects others to, he expects others to say, hey, it's just a roast, but he slinked away when that same kind of derision he created was focused on him. 

Yes, let's #speakupforlee. Let's talk about mental health, let's be there for each other, and let's talk about the hurtful, harmful consequences of online harassment, especially when it targets women. 

Beldame

This was me, from November 2016 to January 2021. 

I'm much better now. 

Breaking her spirit

I don't know why some people delight in tearing women down. But I have, too often, befriended such people, or worked for them. 

It's a calculated plan: these folks first look for opportunities to make a passive-aggressive comment, or call into question something the woman has said or done, particularly if they can do it in front of other people. Why did you do it that way?! implying in the presence of others that they had no idea what you were doing or why you are saying whatever it is you are saying. But these folks save the worst comments for one-on-one conversations, so they can later deny what was said was ever said. They also like to entice you into conversations where you think things are fine, great even, and so you share, as they are sharing with you... but later, you hear them represent some comment you made twisted in a way you never meant, or something you thought you were sharing in confidence revealed to all your friends or colleagues. 

The goal is for others to see you as these folks are framing you, and for you to second guess everything you say or do. And, unfortunately for women, it's a strategy that works all too well. 

These folks know when they've made a woman doubt herself. They know when they've stopped her on some kind of trajectory she was on, and now she's not going to do that project at all, or in quite the same way, or tell that story, with the confidence she had just a few seconds ago. They know she's going to become more and more silent and tentative. That realization is their first moment of triumph, and they work hard for more.  

The strategy starts off as little, infrequent attacking comments. And it may never escalate above that. And you may tolerate it because this person is otherwise really great to be around. Or brilliant. Or a neighbor you will probably see every day. Or your boss in a job you really, really need. Or someone your boss really likes. Or a family member.  

Or it may become relentless. And soul-crushing.  

It's all about control. These folks have, somehow, seen something in a woman - you - that intimidates them, that threatens them, so they have to pick at it, if not out-and-out try to crush it. There's something about that woman that makes the person think, I cannot let her confidence continue. And I know how to kill it.  

The word bully gets thrown around a lot these days, but I can't think of anything that better describes these folks. A bully isn't just someone who says something that hurts your feeling. A bully isn't just someone who criticizes you. According to my dictionary, a bully is a person who habitually seeks to harm or intimidate those whom they perceive as vulnerable. 

I think about the people who have spoken out about their treatment by Joss Whedon, someone whose work has touched my life and lifted me up as much as any actual friend I've ever had - and maybe more. I think about what Megan Markle said about her experience in London. And I think about my own experiences, including a recent work experience. 

When I complained about being sexually harassed at one humanitarian job site by a co-worker, the HR person said, "You know that this kind of work is hard and presents really tough challenges. If you aren't cut out for it, you might need to look for work elsewhere." And I quit complaining and asked a co-worker to please make sure I was never put in the same car as that other co-worker, because I really loved that job otherwise, I really needed it. So, not only was the harasser making life hell - the HR manager wanted that moment of control, and the ongoing power that comes with it - I'm so grateful it never worked out that that HR manager was in no way involved in my performance review, because I know exactly how he would have reveled in that power. 

When an employer that I'd left under not great terms called almost two years later, almost begging me to come back, I went back, knowing full well how badly I had been treated before - the insults, the cutting remarks, the humiliation in front of other staff - but I really, really needed the job, and thought, okay, this time, I'm going to be different. And it was different - it was worse. I guess there are people that would say, "You knew what you were signing on for. You knew how it would be. You can't complain if you knew all that." 

Let's be clear: there's a big difference in a tough work environment and a humiliating one. And no one should have to tolerate working or living in a humiliating environment, no matter how much "tradition" is behind it, no matter how brilliant the leader is perceived to be, no matter how much great work that workplace or institution or person may or may not have done. 

You have every right to say, "This is not what I signed up for. I'm out." And to walk away. 

I never want to forget this week

I haven't blogged about the coup attempt almost two weeks ago because I am still so horrified and outraged, I just can't even. I still seethe at the videos and I fully, passionately support the fullest prosecution of every damn person involved, all the way to the top. What else is there to be said?

I want to focus on better things in this blog. 

January 19, 2020 was a day of immersing myself in funny things, so I wouldn't feel so anxious about my worst fears coming true the next day. I celebrated that Disney+ has announced that all five seasons of ‘The Muppet Show’ will be available to stream on February 19th with an animated gif of Luke Skywalker and Miss Piggy and thanked Joe Biden for making it possible. I listened to the carpool karaoke of "One Day More" three times. I watched the Randy Rainbow goodbye even more. I laughed at other people's posts a LOT. Theater people were the stars that day with hilarious and glorious parody songs and videos, bless 'em. 

Of course, the day wasn't without one final outrage: the tweet from Mike Pompeo. One more slap in the face. One more reminder that fascism is still a threat. And the news that Los Angeles county had relaxed its air quality restrictions so they can do more cremations than they are usually allowed to do, because of all the people dying from COVID-19 - a reminder of just how deadly the last four years have been and how long we're going to pay for this nightmare.

At my staff meeting for one of my clients that day, my supervisor announced that the company was asking everyone NOT to schedule any meetings for Inauguration Day. I hadn't scheduled any social media posts, just as I hadn't for January 8th, both for fear of what might happen and because I knew no one would see them in the sea of messages about national events that would happen that day (yes, of course I knew something awful would happen on Jan. 8th, I just didn't realize the magnitude). 

I didn't think I would be able to sleep the night before the inauguration but, in fact, I did. Stress sleep. It's what I do. 

Wednesday morning, I got up at 5:30 a.m., as usual. I sat down on my usual place on the couch and turned on network TV, forgoing my usual viewing of BBC News. I sat there, watching the live coverage of the Capitol. And at one point, they showed the empty seats and platform for the inauguration, and I burst into sobs. Not tears - sobs. This was really happening. All of the Trump fascists, including the fascists in chief, were gone. They really, truly were gone. And Joe Biden was about to become President, a man who believes in science, someone far more patriotic and loving than me. 

It freaked Stefan out that I was so emotional, crying over a stage setup. What can I say - to me, what it represented - preparation for hope - was just completely overwhelming. 

On Facebook, I posted a link to Woody Guthrie singing "This Land is Your Land" and announced that I was opening sobbing and nothing had even happened yet. Turns out I wasn't alone. Thank you to everyone who jumped in the comments as we went through the day together. I just went back and read through the comments. I feel such a warmth flowing all through me as I read it. And how wonderful when, hours after that song first was on my mind that day, J Lo sang a bit of it. Oh, man, I so lost it in that moment, it was just perfect. That was the song of the day, as far as I'm concerned. 

Joe Biden wasn't my first, second nor third choice for President. But I can honestly say that this inauguration was so, so much more emotional for me than President Obama's. I think because, when Barack Obama became President, it just felt inevitable, even required, a continuation of the evolution of the country and its people. Like, "Hey, look at us, on the right track, going on our merry way to progress and goodness, because that's what we do! Wahoo, us! And we'll have a woman President in eight years!" But Biden's inauguration... we came so, so close to the horrifying alternative, and I couldn't stop thinking about that. Remember all my dire predictions regarding the Trump presidency and my stated fears and how I lost friends over my predictions and terror and outrage - and how I was right about pretty much EVERYTHING I predicted? Do you really want my list for what was coming had so many, many people not stayed absolutely resolute and dedicated and Stacy Abrams and everyone else not gotten out the vote? 

The last two days have far, far exceeded my expectations: all these Executive Orders reversing some of the biggest travesties of the previous administration, the firings of the heads of the VOA and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, taking the reigns off of Fauci... President Joe Biden has accomplished in two days what I expected to take a month or two. 

And I am feeling smug. I admit it. I laid out a plan at the start of the nonsense four years ago and it was inflexible and intolerant and I stuck to it and, by gosh, I AM PROUD OF IT. I still believe silence means approval. I still believe that you cannot "come together" with fascists. I'm still as angry at the people who voted for Gary Johnson or Jill Stein or wrote in Bernie for President or, even worse, didn't vote at all.  

But mostly, I'm focused on doing all I can to ensure that fascism never gets such a foothold in the White House - and rooting out what's in the Senate, the House, and state legislatures across this country. Mostly, I'm feeling hope. 

55

 Probably over the halfway mark. 

2020 - not my worst year

Science has shown that gratitude, that making a list of things that have gone well, makes a person healthier. Yup: counting your blessings really is a good thing, not some pseudoscience wackadoodle nonsense. 

Good things I experienced in 2020:

• I started off the year at a weight and size that made me feel glorious - I was healthier, it was easier to do everything, from turning over in a sleeping bag to getting on and off my motorcycle to taking off and putting on clothes to bending over to tie my shoes. I looked good too!  
• I got to take Stefan to the Broken Spoke in Austin, Texas at long, long last and we had the magical honky-tonk night I've long dreamed of. It's such a special place to me, and I know it's not much longer for this Earth.  
• I did some of my best work, professionally. At the start of the year in particular, I had challenges thrown at me at breakneck speed and very little support - I was often entirely on my own at my biggest gig of 2020. I just kept pushing along, just kept producing - I discovered boss video editing skills I never knew I had and got to put some of my book's suggestions to test yet again, to see if they were still valid - and they are! I'm very, very proud of what I accomplished this year, work-wise. 
• I got a professional gig that I haven't been able to tell any of you about, because I signed a non-disclosure agreement, but I will be able to someday, and for that gig, I had to make a LOT of videos none of you have ever seen, and the company I did the gig for said that mine were the funniest and most lively of anyone on the project. In short: I got paid to be a dork. 
• I've sold a LOT of books, far, far more than even the year my book was released.
• We rode through Baja, California, Mexico & back on our motorcycles. I don't even know how to summarize what an amazing, soul-quenching adventure it was, so you will have to read the travelogue. But it was, hands down, the highlight of the year. And the last time I socialized with other humans other than Stefan.  
• I got to see Henry for the first time since Williamstown, and meet his family, and it was wonderful (but little did we know it was the last time we would hang out with anyone for 2020). 
• A friend from Portland, one of my best friends from high school, was finally able to visit me in my home. 
• We spent two nights out on Washington County backroads viewing Comet NEOWISE. A lot of times, when you hear there is going to be some kind of celestial event, you see it and think, really, that's it? This was NOT one of those times. 
• Hearing Stefan's reaction to seeing the rings of Saturn for the first time through our Aldi telescope. He's not emotive AT ALL, so hearing him exclaim anything, ever, is an amazing moment. Months later, we got to see Jupiter and Saturn in one viewing through the telescope, something we'll never experience again. Oh, the joy our cheap telescope has brought us this year in particular. 
• Stefan bought a wood-burning pizza oven and we used it over and over and over.
• For 3 months, I got to have a cat, and I enjoyed every second of it. Giving up Zeb broke my heart, but he is so, so happy in his new home, with his girl. 
• I got to find out that this vehicle exists.
• The day we sat on the sidewalk outside, making chalk art.
• Stefan cut my hair twice AND colored my hair, experiences neither of us will ever forget. 
• The results of the November 2020 election. 
• Tim and Fred Williams, twin brothers in Gary, Indiana, listening to various artists for the first time. TwinsthenewTrend have brought me so much joy this year. Some days, they were the ONLY joy. I am proud to help their first time experiencing Dolly Parton and Jolene go viral. 
• Lucinda. Every day. 
• We didn't get the novel coronavirus. 
• My biopsy was negative cancer.
• I grew my own garlic for the first time and had the best year ever for growing my own salad.
• Being a part of Black Lives Matter protests - and seeing protests even in tiny Oregon towns. 
• The Democratic Convention online. I was so skeptical. I was beyond skeptical. I watched it at first thinking I'd turn it off after 10 or so minutes. I watched it all! 
• I got cool new neighbors. 
• My friends came through for me in a major way online - and I don't just mean Eric Idle. You know who you are and what you did... 
• Christmas. It was the nicest one we've had in years. I don't know what made it so special. We didn't do anything different than previous years. Maybe we just appreciated our health and luck more than ever. 

But it was a rough year, that just cannot be ignored or denied. And not only because of people dying, becoming permanently disabled, or otherwise suffering from COVID-19, not only because of beloved businesses closing, not only because of the horrific economic hardship suffered by so many, not only because the performing arts and other live performance of any kind may never recover: 

• I further lost hope in humanity, as I watched people refuse to wear masks, refuse to not travel, refuse to not isolate from friends and family, because they found such inconvenient. I didn't think I could hate people more than I did in November 2016. I was wrong. Seeing people behaving so, so badly, with no regard for their fellow humans, no regard for the institutions of this nation, because they felt bored or inconvenienced or somehow oppressed... going skiing or to the beach when public health officials were BEGGING people not to travel at all, flying for vacations, getting together for parties with "just a few friends..." I'm never going to be over the profound selfishness I have seen during this pandemic, seeing people at their absolute worst. 
• I gained almost all the weight I worked so, so hard to lose in 2018 and 2019. To have felt so, so good when this year started, and to have it all gone now, to have all the health problems that come with being obese come back... it's soul-crushing. I'm ravenously hungry all the time, ever since we got back from Mexico, in a way I never have been in my life.  
• A cherished, long friendship ended, bitterly. And that former friend worked hard to tear me down before I realized what was happening. I prefer walking away to burning something that was once wonderful down completely and THEN walking away. I've learned yet again: when someone in your life spends a lot of time running other people down, be aware that that's exactly what they do to you when you aren't around. She wasn't always this way, and I hope someone helps her recognize the start of dementia, which, unfortunately, makes a lot of people become assholes.  
• I learned yet again the importance of documenting everything in your work - even if it's just to prove something to yourself in moments of self-doubt. And I learned yet again what Sharon Capeling-Alakaja said to me once upon a time is true: "You have to make absolutely certain everyone knows what you are accomplishing in your work, you have got to brag about what you're doing, because if you don't, there are people that will claim you aren't doing anything." 
• I don't think I'll ever go back to Austin. That city has been my spiritual home since the 1990s. My love for that city has run so, so deep. But my reasons for going to Austin are all gone now. Will I ever again love a place like I loved that city, that entire region? I know nothing lasts forever... I'm grateful to have experienced the city when I did, and how I did.  
• I went on what I think is going to be my last job interview ever. It was for a job I really, really wanted - maybe not quite as much as the two jobs last year I talked about so much, but still, a LOT. I was bubbling with ideas for it. As I left the interview, knowing that I never did quite connect with the people in that room, I realized I just can't do this anymore, I can't pour myself into all of the unpaid hours needed to apply for a job and prepare and interview once or twice and not get any payoff. And if I'm too old for that, I guess I'm too old for the jobs as well. 
• The troll. 
• The fires all over Northern California and the Pacific Northwest. This wasn't a faraway disaster, one we would see first hand only when we made a motorcycle trip through a region. This was thick smoke in my neighborhood, day after day, and having to wear one of the three N95 masks we have any time I stepped outside even for just a few moments, and looking at a sky that looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie.   
• The collapse of the iconic Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico. I cried when I saw the video. What a loss. 
• I have tinnitus. And there's no cure! I realized it in the late summer. I really thought I'd been careful with my hearing in all of those years of going to hear live music - first because the bands I went to see weren't usually very loud (alt-country and bluegrass) and because I wore earplugs if things were even remotely loud... except once (damn you, Texas Tornados at the Austin Music Awards in March 1997). 
• I've never felt the loss of my paternal grandmother as deeply as I did this year. For some families, there's just one person holding it all together, like the sun in a solar system or the flame everyone gathers around, and without that person, the family members drift apart. Their relationship was with that person, not with each other. Mamaw kept me posted about family members moving, marrying, divorcing and dying. She welcomed my phone calls. She made sure we talked once a week. She told me she missed me. She made me feel a part of a family. That's truly gone, I realize that now, for the first time. If you still have that in your life, cherish it.  
• The dread of 2021. I know so many of you feel like all the problems are going to get left back in 2020 and this is a fresh start. I don't. Hospitals have patients out in their parking garages and their staff doesn't have enough PPE. There still isn't mass, regular testing. People are gathering inside each other's homes, restaurants and health clubs are refusing to follow public health guidelines. I am not hopeful to get the vaccine myself before the Fall - that means nine more months of staying at home and being terrified. No, I don't look at January 1 as a fresh start - I believe numbers will sky-rocket through Feburary because of all that people have done since the Fall. 

But even with all that, it wasn't my worst year. Not my second worst year. Not even in the top five of worst years for me. Although, I'm publishing this with about 14 hours to go in 2020.

I really shouldn't end on a downer... so I will end with this:

In all this time of reflection during home quarantine, I've realized that, as of February 2021, it will be 20 years since I moved to Germany and began an adventure that changed my life forever, an amazing adventure that followed a lot of other amazing adventures I thought could never be bested. So, in February 2021, I'm planning on celebrating the 20th anniversary of moving and living abroad by sharing each of my travelblogs 20 years after each happened. To prepare, I've been spending a lot of time re-designing those pages to make them more attractive to read. It's been really nice to revisit that time of my life. I said over and over back then, "I am the luckiest girl alive." Two decades later, with hindsight, I can say, yes, I was.  

So, that's my year in review. Hope the two of you that actually read my blog enjoyed it.