Red-Shirt Rememberance Day

It's the 1st of December. The National Novel Writing Month of 2013 has finished. It also means that it is Red-shirt Remembrance Day.

As I've stated before; those of you don't recognise that 'red-shirt' reference, it is a Star Trek one. If you see a random, nameless red shirt in Star Trek... he will die. It's inevitable, it nearly always happens. So in dedication of all the red-shirts in our stories,

We miss you, but you die for the better good of our word counts and stories.

Now, on to this years tribute. WARNING: For those of you who are yet to read my novel When There's No Tomorrow and do not want a major character death ruined for you, SPOILER ALERT FOR THE REST OF THE POST!!

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This 'Redshirt' has a name, but she doesn't get a single line in the story, or at least no verbal lines.  Her name is Gul, and she's a child whose life has been destroyed by war, her voice stolen from her by injury.

I didn't want to kill this character, though from the very beginning of the story I knew I would.  Her death gave my main character the reason to act, the push to change the way things were. Every book needs these moments, and unfortunately Gul's death had to be that ugly act of war to get the story rolling.

EXCERPT: (this happens just after Gul takes a bullet meant for my main character)

  My legs finally working, I stumble over to Gul’s side and collapse. My arms feel like lead, and I sit there just looking down at her limp body for what seems to be hours before I finally convince myself to turn her over.

Her usually rich caramel-coloured skin is now a whitish-grey brown. Her lips are pale and slightly drawn apart. I touch them briefly with my fingertips before scooping her up into my lap.

‘Gul?’ I whisper, hoping against everything for a response and hating the silence that follows. ‘Gul?’ I choke out as I hold her close, caressing her blank face. I hold her to my chest and cry, my tears softly falling onto her face, trickling down her skin.

I don’t know if she’s still alive, but I know she’s gone. There is no chance that she could survive this; I had seen enough war-victims to know this. Holding her slightly away from me, as far as I can bear, I look at her face, at her eyes and nose and mouth. My gaze is drawn to the damp cloth around her lower chest. The part of her shirt that is redder than the rest. I hate red. Red is the colour of suffering and pain. Red is the colour of death.

Her fingers flutter, and my heart jumps. ‘Gul?’

Her eyes open, and she looks at me, eyes dark with pain. I stroke back a lock of hair, the pesky fringe that won’t stay put. Her lips tremble as they move in silent words. I place a finger over her chalky lips. ‘Shh,’ I whisper, lowering my forehead to hers. ‘It’s all right.’ It isn’t. It isn’t all right. It isn’t anywhere near all right. It is so . . . wrong. So, so . . . wrong.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘It’s my fault you’re here. I shouldn’t have come with you. You shouldn’t be here.’ She shakes her head before grimacing in pain. A single tear trickles down her left cheek, and I brush it away, catching the sparkling drop on the end of my finger. I stare at it, imagining a world trapped away underneath the glinting surface. Did they have war? How could they when their home was so calm. Yet taking away of its beautiful demeanour, a tear was produced from pain and suffering. So why was it so peaceful?

Skin brushes against cheek and I look back to Gul, the teardrop falling from my finger and onto the floor where it explodes into hundreds of individual drops, into a hundred more worlds. Her hand is floating in front of my face, aimlessly reaching towards the ceiling. I grasp hold of it and bring it to my lips, using it as a muffler for my sobs. Her eyes are dim, empty.

 To the beautiful little spark of light in a world cast in shadow: Gul, forever, you shall be remembered.

 
 
 

A Child With Autism Becomes a Teenager With Expectations

I don't usually re-post other's articles on here but I couldn't resist with this one. This article by Priscilla Gilman, published by the New York Times touched my heart and opened my mind.

With my introversion and quirkyness I really related to it as I have often felt like Benj does. I need my private free time. I'm not a 'normal teenager', whatever that means. I have no wish to be. I hate large social events and have a fear of the phone. I can spend all day researching something as mundane as a Foreign Law or the history of Schizophrenia. I don't get people, no matter how hard I try. But I'm okay with that. And anyone that is remotely different than the supposed 'social norm', should be okay with it too.      

Read and enjoy. And remember, being different is perfectly acceptable.

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A Child With Autism Becomes a Teenager With Expectations. 

The night before his 13th birthday, Benj came to the door of my office and knocked in his typically abrupt way. “Mommy, I need to talk to you,” he said. “I’m really worried about tomorrow.”

Benj is on the autism spectrum, and special days cause him more than the usual trepidation. I rushed in with reassurances about the specifics that had concerned him in the past. “What’s worrying you, honey?” I asked. “I’ve told the school to do the special gluten-dairy-free treat for you, and remember we’re going to have the home party this weekend.”

But it was not the mundane details of the day that were on Benj’s mind. “Mommy, I’m nervous about becoming a teen.”

“Nervous about becoming a teen” is such a typical Benj way to put it. I’d shared his anxiety when he was younger. For children with communication difficulties, what could be worse than the social maelstrom of middle and high school, with its cliques and pressure to conform? As social situations became increasingly complex and his peers increasingly sophisticated, I feared that literal, innocent, honest Benj would be picked on, manipulated, or excluded.

But as those years actually approached, my fears were largely allayed. Benj is in a small, special education class where each child’s unique set of strengths and challenges is understood. The school has a no-tolerance policy for teasing, ostracism and bullying. There’s no in group or out group and no norm or standard or box to fit into because these kids are all quirky, each in his or her own way.

So I felt no sense of impending doom at the prospect of Benj becoming a teenager — but he did. “When I’m a teen I’ll have to have hang-outs with my friends all the time!” he told me. “And I’ll have to date people! That’s what teenagers do. They hang out with their friends, and they date.”
 I wondered where he’d picked up these conventions about what it means to be a teenager. It was only this year that at the suggestion of his school counselor, Benj began to call get-togethers with peers “hang-outs,” chiding me if I referred to them as the now babyish “play-dates.” “Hang-out,” with its connotations of relaxed, mellow, easygoing camaraderie, is a bit misleading as far as Benj is concerned; socializing with peers can be challenging and arduous for him. More “hang-outs” means more stress. I can’t imagine what he thinks dating holds.

I reassured him that becoming a teen did not mean he had to start dating immediately. “You can date when you’re ready, sweetheart,” I told him, “and that might not be for a long time. And, of course, you can have more hang-outs if you want them. But it’s important to remember that you also need your good alone time.” Benj is a classic introvert who needs long stretches of private time in his room, reading, playing Solitaire or noodling around on the guitar.

Benj thanked me for understanding that he needed his private time, but then insisted that he needed to make sure he was having some hang-outs. He decided on “2.5 hangouts a month” as the right amount. I wondered what would constitute a “half-hang-out,” and then realized that mathematically inclined, precise Benj was averaging the number of hang-outs: 2.5 a month is 30 a year.

“Benj, I want you to know that there isn’t one set definition of what a teenager is. When I was a teenager, I spent lots of time with my friends, but Daddy didn’t have lots of hang-outs or girlfriends when he was a teenager and he was happy that way.”

Parenting Benj, a child very different from  the one I’d imagined having, has impressed upon me just how important it is to move beyond normative expectations about what our children will or won’t be, should or shouldn’t do. But again, just because I’ve realized that doesn’t mean that Benj has. Social norms are powerful things, and as much as I may think he isn’t hearing the siren call of “normal,” his surprisingly conventional definition of being a “teen” is proof that he isn’t immune to fears about fitting in.

Our most essential tasks as parents, in fact, may be to recognize our children’s individual temperaments, needs and aspirations and to help them resist prescriptive conventions and imagined ideals in figuring out what’s really right for them. When E.E. Cummings wrote: “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are,” he described the sort of courage I hope to foster in all three of my children, one that enables them to attain the maturity that comes when we identify our own natures and try to live in accordance with them.

“People are different,” I told Benj. “There’s no one right way to be a teenager. And there’s no set way that you have to be, Benji, ever. I will always support you in doing what’s right for you, Benj, not some idea of what a teenager, or a man, or a person should be doing.”

Benj’s 13th year has been one of amazing social growth for him. He had his first phone conversation with a friend, invited a girl to his school’s winter dance (just as friends!), and enjoyed regular “hang-outs” with peers thanks to his social skills group. And he continues to derive a great deal of satisfaction and happiness from his “good alone time.” He’ll even smilingly call out as he ducks into his room: “I’m going in for my private free time!”

Did he hear me, when I promised him he never had to learn to conform? Who knows. Whether you’re turning 13 or 50, it can be difficult to ignore who the world expects you to be — or who you think you’re expected to be. But so far, Benj is managing. He’s growing up into who he really is.


Source: Gilman, Priscilla, 2013. 'A Child With Autism Becomes a Teenager With Expectations', Viewed 25 October 2013, http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/10/20/a-child-with-autism-becomes-a-teenager-with-expectations/?smid=pl-share

Absolute Stupidity

If I were to ask you if you thought it possible for a court of law to ban a newspaper from using the name of God, what would your answer be?

The fact is, a week or so ago an Indonesian court banned a Christian newspaper from using the term Allah, which is the name of god both Muslims and Christians use all over the world. This law reversed an earlier law stating that the newspaper could use it under free speech legislation.    

The court's excuse? Justice Mohamed Apandi stated, "Our common finding that the use of Allah is not an integral part of the Christian faith, so we find no justification for why they insist on using the name or word in their publication." He also went onto explain that the three-member appellate court panel had decided that allowing non-Muslims to use the word would 'cause confusion and could jeopardize public safety'.

Seriously?

Arab Christians use Allah, and various versions, as their terminology for God. In early gospels the word Allah is repeatedly used. For a lot of Christians, Allah is just as much a name for god as it for any Muslim. For some, it's the only name they know. The editor of the Christian newspaper Fr. Lawrence Andrew stated he was "disappointed and dismayed" at the courts decision. I feel the same way. Frankly, it's cringe-worthy.


In my opinion, putting this law into place will cause more 'public safety' issues that if it wasn't implemented in the first place. The law will cause for strains to form in the relationships between Christians and Muslim groups. These two religions have a lot in common, and yet they have some of the most controversial history. Why? Because people focus on the differences, and like this new law is doing, keep driving the knife in deeper.  

How can you ban the use for God's name in the first place? It's not like you can copyright it.

So basically, I think this law is utterly, absolutely idiotic. And that word effectively wraps things up.  

Caring for others, Caring for yourself

Sometimes...

You try so hard to take care of everyone else

That you forget to take care of yourself

*****

Me right now, and honestly... most of the time. So many people need help, and yet no one seems to care. It feels like the world is on your shoulders, and everyone needs some of your time, or love, or assistance. But then when you need help, no one looks twice. Somewhere along the line, you stop caring too.