2016 Send Off~ Blog Post by Meredith King for Diverse Reader

I have no doubt in my mind that there are some people out there that feel like 2016 was a great year for them. Many years have been good to me too. 2016 was not one of them. What made 2016 so much worse than many other years is that the general consensus is, it sucked.

Now, I’m sure that a lot of the hatred of 2016 has to do with a certain Presidential election. The mounting fear that the next four years hold for so many I love dearly, for myself and my own family, for our country, is breath-stealing. I feel like we have all been hit with the Crutiatus curse. It’s as if Avada Kedavra was too generous or something.

We also lost so many amazing souls this year. In the celebrity world we lost the shining stars of Alan Rickman, David Bowie, Prince, Florence Henderson, George Michael, Carrie Fisher, and so many more. People who, from the magic of television and radio touched our lives and helped us pave our futures. I don’t know about all of you but I felt every loss this year. Every. Single. One! 

We also lost the incredible talent of Eric Arvin, an author in the LGBT community. He wrote so many fantastic stories: The Rascal, The Mingled Destinies of Crocodiles, Wave Goodbye to Charlie, and so many more. He is immortalized because of his words. He is remembered because of the light that glowed from him. His loss is felt like a wrecking ball within the LGBT community. 

Every year we are shattered with the hatred of humanity. This year it was plentiful. Terrorist attacks, mother nature's wrath, horrible loss of so many amazing futures in the Pulse Nightclub shooting. This on top of everything makes for an unstable foundation.

I don’t mourn 2016, I welcome its end. I hope for a 2017 that will bring happiness. Sadly, 2017 is daunting. 2017 is like a storm in the distance. I can feel its biting wind, I hear its threatening rumble, I see its dark clouds. The suffocating tendrils of fear are relentless. How do we change a future that’s weighing down on us with its hatred, its rancid division, its unsettling decent into madness? I wish I knew how. But I do know one thing that 2017 will get from me, from all of us… A fight. How do you fight fire? With fire of course. 

Sometimes we don’t always win the battles but the war rages on. Sometimes we are less in the end but the path we leave behind is devastating.

Whether we win or not we sure as hell leave our WE WERE FUCKING HERE sign and in that raging storm, louder than the thunder are our shouts “WE WILL BE BACK.” 

On the top of Fuck You 2016 Mountain, with my arms open wide, and my middle fingers extended I say, “goodbye 2016, you’ll be remembered for your violent nature, your heart shattering memories forever tattooed in our minds, and for all you took from us. I wish 2017 luck from us. We are hardened, we are ready for this fight and like 2016, we won’t let you forget us.”

I may not know what 2017 has in store for us but I know how strong all of us are. I know what we are capable of. I am proud to stand with all of you. You are my apocalypse team! 

So, fuck you, 2016, you’re benched. 2017 you’re up!  

Because of a Story... His Name Was Brian

I read a book and haven’t been able to start another one. That may seem like no big deal to many of you but for me it’s rare. I usually fly through books. Reading is my vacation. I love getting so lost in a book I feel like I’m flying.

This book? It swept me away alright. All the way back to a long time ago when through the fog of all the teenage drama and angst was a darker place.

Every day I’ve progressed. Challenges and obstacles have littered my path for many years. I never really forgot my high school years I just moved on from them. It’s good to be reminded of the souls that got lost on their path.

We all have a story or ten. I have many but because of this book I was reminded of a past I work to push behind me, yet everyday no matter how hard I try to pretend I don’t think about it, I do.

His name was Brian and he was only 14 years old when he decided he no longer wanted to live in this world. He left behind more love than he thought he ever had. He was a person surrounded by friends who’d drop everything to help him, but he felt alone. He felt that his end had come.

I remember the day we lost him. I was on the front lawn of my friend’s house relaxing on the grass, the sun was shining and we were all being ridiculous. Typical for us odd and awkward kids. Never part of the “In Crowd” but we were happy because we had each other. We had each other’s back.

Everything got blurry after that. I remember a phone call, I remember a lot of “No, that’s not true.” “Not Brian, he was the jokester.” And he was a jokester. Class clown. Our comic relief. He did a fantastic Fire Marshall Bill. We ate lunch with him. A week ago he was sitting in my dad’s recliner at my house with his goofy smile and quiet disposition. Our friend.

He was gone.

I remember wondering if someone broke in to his house and forced him to do it. It made no sense to me. Not Brian. The boy who could turn a sob into a belly laugh. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t ask him and I became mad.

My parents didn’t know what to do. “Friends” I say it loosely. People who barely waved at Brian in the hall. People who snickered at him behind his back just like they did to all of us. They now wanted to be a part of his death when his life was nothing to them. Brian’s parents didn’t know what to do. Were these kids his friends? I got a call from one of our Youth Directors asking me if these kids could come to the memorial. If they were genuine.

I was still so mad.

I said no. These people don’t deserve to say goodbye. You don’t get to grieve for someone you couldn’t bother with when they were alive. So I said no. And they weren’t allowed to attend. Just like that.

There were six of us. Always the six of us. Five, with Brian gone. I never cried. Not one tear. I remember what I wore to the memorial, I can never seem to forget that. I remember my friends crying and asking me why I wasn’t. I didn’t know why. I was so angry.

We had to eat lunch in the conference room at school for a month. We five suddenly were interesting. Our loss was their gain. Still, I did not cry.

YEARS later I realized a part of me died that sunny day on the grass at my friend’s house. Brian lives in my memories, in the pictures of him I still have and every March I think of that day when the world shifted and reality came crashing down on the five of us.

We had our school dance that year. It was bittersweet. See, after that year, after that dance, the five of us fell apart. I only still speak to one of them. Was Brian our glue? Was his loss just too much? Was his presence too prominent when we were together that it hurt? Perhaps.

I miss him and yes, I DID finally cry and grieve for the loss of my friend. I will never know why he did it, or if I could have saved him. I know that I am okay. I know I live a little for him in every sunrise. 

That’s a powerful book to make me sink deep into that memory. It made me want to talk about Brian which is something I don’t do. I know at this point you’re all doing two things. One, you’re thinking of your past and a story. Two, you’re all wondering what book I read.

The book is End of Innocence book 4 of Tales of Foster High by John Goode.

Powerful series.

My advice to all of you; share your story. Reach out when you need someone. You are not alone. We can all be saved. It may seem like the end but it’s just the beginning. 

Do You Like You?

I was the girl who maxed out her cards to buy the coolest clothes.

I was the girl who compromised her own beliefs and morals to fit in.

I was the girl who said yes when she wanted to say no.

It's a painful journey finding your place in the world. I'm not sure any of us ever really find our purpose. More of us give in this world and take in very little. We are taught to give with our heart. Do because you want to do. That the love in return is all the payment we need.

So you buy that $200.00 skirt that will look great on you, and will make your boyfriend feel proud to have you at his side because of it.

You grow your hair long because everyone loves it that way, when all you want to do is take the scissors and chop it off.

You put make-up on because it's warpaint. Because if you cover up all the imperfections they can't see your pains, regrets and your bland self.

We truly feel that if others love us we will in turn love ourselves. It doesn't work that way.

You can be completely loved but still need to shut the lights off to be naked. You can be told every day that you're beautiful and still feel the need to put layers upon layers of foundation on... it's foundation after all, right? It will hold you up... won't it?

You will always see every scar, every blemish like it's a beacon calling the mother ship home.
Ever watch TV, see an actor play a confident person and you can see their over sized nose, receding hairline and say, "How are they so okay with that?"Somehow that confidence they are portraying is making them beautiful and you want that. You want it so bad you can taste it.

So what if you stopped trying? What if you chopped your hair off?
Stop wearing that make-up, return that skirt? Say no for a change?

I'm not sure how it works. I know I live in the dark. I know I'm not a fan of my reflection and that I cover as much of myself as I can. I know my past dictates the person I am today, and I can't change that.

I also know that my children don't see my story. They feel my love. That's enough for now. I'm not perfect. I'm certainly not going to pretend I am. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop looking for it.

It's who I am, it's what I do. I may be bald by the time I'm 50. I won't be okay with that. I'll buy a wig.

I know my limits. I'm not sad all the time over it. I've accepted who I am. Shockingly enough, I DO LIKE MYSELF.

My past has taught me to teach my children to never say yes when they mean no. Not to wear the burdens of things that happen TO them. I want them to be able to forgive themselves.

I'm searching for my purpose. I'm striving for perfect. It may sound depressing but it's the life I know.

I can't stop trying. But I can say I LIKE ME.

Why Music Matters

Music helps us more than it hurts us. For many, it's our therapist. Sometimes it's  a temporary lover. It's anger management, it's an emotional amplifier.

I've seen paintings that have brought tears to my eyes. One time I went to a show and I told the artist how moved I was by his work. He told me, "Without music none of these could have ever been possible."

"How so?" I asked.

"Music drives the emotion from my body. Without it, it would be stagnant."

My daughter cries when she hears certain songs. Once I asked her why and she told me it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

When I write I need music to help me get into the feel of the moment. I NEED IT.

In an apocalypse music would easily be something I would fight to revive. It started somewhere once didn't it? Music only dies if you let it.

When I grieve, music offers me solace.

When I celebrate, music gives me the soundtrack to help me express just how happy I am.

Music matters because it's a guide... A role model. 

It's so powerful that lyrics of hate, violence and prejudice have caused riots. You set the tone. Music makes us do wonderful things... crazy things.

The diversity in music is what I love most. I can just as easily dance down the aisle at my local food store to The Temptations as I can to Katy Perry.

Music matters because we want it to... We need it to.

This Is Your Life

If we start living our lives for other people, well we aren't really living, are we? Too often I hear how heartbroken someone is because they couldn't make some one "see." See what? See what YOU see, through YOUR eyes? Feel what YOU feel? You will waste every moment, every breath. You will miss experiences that are meant to be memories if you continuously make people SEE and FEEL the way you do.

Don't be heartless, be real. You can give people advice, you can be a shoulder and a friend. You can't be them. You can't make them stand up for themselves or make them take that leap to becoming a better person. You can only shine the light in the direction they should take. The rest is up to them.

If you live your life for others, you're going to miss your own.

Shiny Isn't Always Better

I know that sometimes shiny is better. But, in this post it isn't always. There's a saying many of us have heard our parents or our grandparents say. "They just don't make em like they used to." Normally they are referring to movies, cars or music. As a child I would agree with those categories. Now? Not so much. The saying needs changing. "They just don't make people like they used to."

EVOLUTION! Many shout! They say time has changed us to be less ignorant, more tolerant. We are free!!! Yeah yeah! Okay fine. True. But there was a time where we had these little things called values.

Yes, time changes us. And for all the good it's doing, it's doing just as much bad. So you have a friend for a time. One who knows all your secrets. Who has weathered all the storms with you. They have been your counsel when you were in need of advice. They were the shoulder when you were tired and the arms that held you up when you were falling. ENTER SOMETHING (or someone) SHINY.

THIS person is new, fresh and has index cards of new material. I'm not saying they are bad, but it becomes bad when the old is tossed out, and the new replaces the priceless gift you once had.

I feel like we all have this sidebar that lights up beside us and it reads "Here's what's trending" There are so many sheep that the wolves will never be hungry.

We only sparkle for a short time. Then we dull, not because we are less appealing or entertaining. But because we become comfortable. Why do we gravitate toward the sparkles and ignore the light? With out the light, there can be no sparkle.

Be Yourself... And Own It!

I went back and forth about this post. Many times it was so jumbled in my head it couldn't take form. Hopefully I got it right this time.

We live in a world where we are all constantly changing. Who you were at five, isn't who you are at thirty-five. We live in a world of constant judgement also.

If we all actually lived as the people we are supposed to be, what kind of world would it be? We have variety already, but it's all so fake. Assholes are assholes. Sweethearts are sweethearts. But are they?

I spend a good amount of time being what everyone expects me to be, I no longer know who I am. I want to own that! So I will. I can see the good in everyone, literally. I can get along with just about anyone. I also know this is extremely rare.

I've listened to friends and strangers as they cry because they can't be what someone wants. I've felt their pain. I can sympathize and empathize. I've been there. So you're a bubbly person who loves the sun on their face, the wind in your hair. You live for happy music and rainbow dreams. Good for you! Own it. No, not everyone is going to love you, yes, some people will make fun of you and belittle your efforts. Why? Because that is the person they have chosen to be. Assholes and Sweethearts, remember?

I have witnessed people lose their sparkle because of dark hearted people. I have dulled in my life because I have been hurt horribly as well. I'm not going to make everyone happy. I can't make everyone love me. Some people live their lives with the mentality that they don't care if anyone likes them and loves them. And there are people who think those people are so awesome because nothing bothers them. No one's life is so empty that nothing bothers them. But for the Sweethearts of the world, that is not your home.

It really sucks when people can't accept us. A LOT! But, you know what? They don't have to. There are people for the kind hearted. People do and will love you for who you are.

Many people think I'm stupid. I know, ridiculous. I am far from stupid. I know this and yes, I own this. I rather people think I'm dumb and have the upper hand. I know the people in my life. I know who they are and what they stand for. Some will hurt me forever, I just simply stop letting them. I am not a fool. I am not stupid. I see more then people think I do. I OWN THAT! I am a Sweetheart and an Asshole. I am not perfect! BUT, I am realistic and open minded. IF or WHEN it is time, people will always be welcome into my world of understanding. You might not like what I have to say, but you don't have to.

JUST. BE. YOU!

The Act of Privacy

Privacy seems to be a gray area for a lot of people. Part of me can understand why. I log into Facebook and Twitter every day, and am assaulted with the "Drama Post" or the "Tantrum Tweet" The one that screams "PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THIS STATUS" Because of that, Privacy has become one of those words that nobody understands anymore.

My issue, however, isn't with those mysterious posts. My issue is when people invade where they aren't welcome. Example? SURE! Actors, Authors, Models, basically anyone who is exposed in Social Media. Angelina Jolie becomes pregnant, she needs to contact her PR team and they need to draft up a story for the public. Why? Because if she doesn't and she's seen walking down Rodeo Drive with a baby bump all of a sudden she's a slut and having an affair. It's a price you pay for your status, I get it.
Now, why is it, when celebrities or other known figures share a part of themselves with us we need to poke just a little more? Why do we need to know the nitty gritty? I think we should just be happy that we were given a part of that private life.

I see it A LOT with authors. Mostly because that is where I hang out. When someone releases a new book, it's like Christmas. You are already getting so much of their soul because a writer puts a piece of themselves in every book they write. But, people push and want to know about their love lives, and if that HOT SCENE actually happened in their life. I see it all the time and it disgusts me. I have a saying in my house... "You get what you get and you don't get upset."

You have to see it like this. "If they want you to know, you will." Don't pry! Personal space people!
It's common courtesy, it's being a human being.