Natasha Fondren

Once upon a time, people were poor. People were hungry. Children were hungry. Everyone was struggling and too many people were without jobs. Times were tough. A small political party formed, rooted in a call to freedom and economic reforms. Although first viewed as radical, as the economy tanked and unemployment rose, it gathered more and more attention.

The small, little party began to unite the struggling people in its promise of solutions. They promised to “restore honor” to the “one true” nation. They claimed that the economic difficulties and problems and sufferings of the people were caused by the undermining of the foundations of morality, faith, justice, and honor in their country.

They rose to power, promising to restore the nation to the principles upon which it had been founded, with "Christianity as the foundation of our national morality, and the family as the basis of national life." They called its fellow patriots to protect the “sanctity of marriage,” patriots who were “linked by a solid rock foundation of faith in the one true God of justice.”

Their “highest mission [was] the securing of the right to live and the restoration of freedom to our nation… a State which must have equal rights.” They called us to honor “the sacred charters of our liberty that all men are created equal.”

Of course, they honored our soldiers and also their mothers. “No woman gives birth thinking she will hand over her child to her country,” but “every mother who has presented a child to the nation” was honored.

Yes, they celebrated their “love for our Army as the bearer of our arms and the symbol of our great past.” In honoring soldiers throughout their nation’s history, they remarked that “For 200 years those mystical cords have bound us to those who are willing to sacrifice to restrain evil, to protect god-given liberty, to sacrifice all in defense of our country.”

And they didn’t just honor the soldiers, but their fellow patriots, who would “never retreat” and “never capitulate.”

“Are you not so proud?” Yes, their speeches and rallies filled the people with pride in their community, all the while reminding them that “none of us is too proud, none of us too high, none is too rich, and none too poor, to stand together before the face of the Lord and of the world in this indissoluble, sworn community!”

“Look around you! You are not alone! Let’s stand together and stand with honor! Let’s restore America!”

Whose words am I quoting? Sarah Palin’s Restoring Honor speech on Saturday, the speeches of Adolf Hitler, particularly the one upon his appointment as chancellor in 1933, or BOTH? Am I telling the story of the Nazi Party or the Tea Party? Or both?

It was only one month after the above speech by Hitler that the first concentration camp opened. I encourage you to read the speeches of Hitler and notice how much you agree with.

Replace a few political details. Replace Jews with Muslims, homosexuals with LGBTQ, Gypsies with immigrants (legal, illegal, and those who merely LOOK like immigrants) and OTHER.

One of the most frightening horrors of the Holocaust was that good, decent people were led by a call to moral values, like pride and honor and justice: values that no good person could disagree with. They were united against a common enemy, a threat to their nation and their prosperity. The energy of rallies, of inspiring speeches that filled you with pride and faith and goodness, united as a nation in hope and purpose and belief.

Propaganda works because of course you believe in the propaganda. Yes, you agree with what they’re saying. How could you not? And you’re too busy rallying for the propaganda to notice what they’re doing. And why. The small details of their agenda aren’t important.

What’s most important is Pride! Honor! Justice! Equality! Morality! PATRIOTISM! They will bring us prosperity and take us out of these bad times!

National pride is good. It’s scary-powerful stuff. That is one of the lessons of the Holocaust. Propagandists would trick you into subconsciously believing that if you’re not for their political agenda, then you’re not a patriot—and an enemy of morality and virtue.

Not so.

Let us not be tricked.

National pride is neither inherently good or bad. Let’s look past its rallying cry to how our leaders would wield it.

*blinks sleepily* I was up most of the night, and then when I finally slept, I dreamed of a large paper grocery bag dispensing advice. It was a proper oracle, with a face painted on it and everything.

I want a new blog design. Stacey Graham’s beautiful re-design put me in the mood. Any thoughts, suggestions? What worked for you in this blog design, and what totally didn’t?

It seems cluttery to me right now. And you know how I am about clutter.

I’m also coming up with a new blogging plan. When I had a life that was somewhat settled, I could be creative about thinking of life in new ways for a blog post every day. But now that I’m building a new life, it seems all my creativity goes into that, instead of blogging.

And I miss blogging.

So…

What would you like me to write about most? Which posts do you enjoy reading the most?

Time passes quickly, doesn’t it? I was just thinking how much my life has changed. Ten years ago, I hadn’t started writing. I spent time on the internet, but it was on a desktop computer and my laptop was not connected to my hip.

I read a lot more. I slept with piles of books.

I did have a little blog! On Diaryland. Cool place. I’m sorry that it never grew big like Blogger.

I finished working, and then I’d start a fire and either watch TV or read books. Or both. I’d get up, do yoga, practice piano if I was able to sit up (that was still when I was sick), teach, and then read more. On days off, I would generally stay in bed all day. Back then, it was such a relief because it was always such a huge effort to try and walk around like normal.

It sounds like a leisurely life, but I was working six days a week, nearly sixty, seventy hours on piano teaching alone. It did not help my illness, LOL.

I don’t miss that life, except for the reading part. The slower part. Man, has my life gotten cluttered with the internet.

On one hand, I’m glad. I’d be dreadfully lonely without someone to chat with or status updates to read while working. But I’d really like to finish working by 6 or so, so I can spend the evening reading.

I miss how fast I read books then, but I wouldn’t want to have a life without writing. I wouldn’t want to give up the friends I have online. Just musing.

What was your life like, ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? How much is the internet a part of your daily life? Reading?

Well, so, I have a piano student. He’s ten. He asked. With big brown eyes. I’m happy to teach him. The father insisted on paying, but I wasn’t going to charge them, so I quoted a figure $40 an hour cheaper than my rate, LOL. When I was ten, my neighbor taught me for free. So I figure this is just turnaround.

It was fun! I enjoyed it.

Sadly, the best thing about it was that I’m so confident about teaching. I know exactly what to do. I feel good at teaching. I don’t have that confidence or feeling of success with writing. I did before. What happened to it?

I haven’t really felt that confident this whole year. I don’t know what’s up. I’m fairly certain I made the right decision, but I think I underestimated how hard it is on the ego to change what has been your identity for thirty years.

I sort of lost my writing confidence somewhere in that.

And I miss my friends. I miss Taekwondo especially.

I can remember plenty of writing sessions where I just sat down and kicked ass. I can’t remember a single one, lately.

I’ve lost my mojo. I feel like I’ve lost myself. I don’t know.

You know, honestly, it’s not just this year. I changed a bit when I hurt my foot. It’s like my Achille’s freakin’ heel, I swear. Seriously, I can pinpoint a ton of things that changed for the worse in my life to that moment. I need it to get better and I need to get back to Taekwondo, and then everything will be better. I hope. I don’t know.

I can pivot now, so that’s a big improvement. I just can’t run and jump. I haven’t tried kicking a target yet. *sigh*

Eek, I hate when I’m moody. Glenn left for Alaska a couple weeks ago, so I think I’m feeling a little lonely.

I’m sorry it took me so long to respond to your comments last week. My computer broke, then I was getting a new one set up and all this other junk. A mess. (I always respond before my next post, at the latest. I think. LOL!) Anyways…

Have you ever lost your mojo? How’d you get it back? Where do you draw confidence from? Where do you get your identity? Have you ever… changed it? What gives you confidence in your writing? Your life?

I’ve decided to make up a word. Okay, actually, I’ve decided to open up my blog for ideas on making up a word. In other words, I want you to make up a word.

It’s a word like jealous or envy, but with no negative connotations. It’s all positive. It means, “Wow, you lucky duck! That’s awesome. I’m totally thrilled you have X, couldn’t be happier that you have X. And I really want X, too.”

Frenvy? (Friend+envy?) Naw.

Thrilledvy?

Oh boy.

You can see why I’m eliciting your help.

Any ideas for this word we need?

I like to organize things. It’s almost an obsession. Of course, nothing useful. If something should be organized, it’s likely I don’t have the compulsion. Maybe it’s because I have such difficulty organizing my mind, that if I can find something my brain can organize, it’s very relaxing.

Like if I play campground poker, where all the chips are worth a dime no matter the color, I still sort my chips by color. (No one else does.) Always white first on the right, then red, then blue, then green. The countertop is all messy, but if one thing is out of place in the refrigerator, I’ll drop everything to put it back in order.

What else? Playing Bach. I just love putting all those notes in order, making them nice and neat.

And this is so odd it’s embarrassing: I like to clean up html code. I spent a few hours doing it the other night and just had the most enjoyable time. It was an absolute blast. I felt like I was knitting. I think this week I’ll write a series on how to format a Kindle book.

I’m not sure why I know how to do this, when I have yet to have a book that I can put on Kindle myself. *sigh* Hopefully soon.

What soothes you?

Wouldn’t this be grand? (Via Keris Stainton) A room within a room, a cozy little hideaway. I’d make that fluffiness of a bed only half the room, make sure that window was a really BIG window, and put my writing desk inside. Then I’d close those doors so it was just me, all me, and no else.

(How many writers have you heard of who write in closets? There’s something to it, I think.)

Writing in a small space feels safe and gives one the feeling, physically, that it’s only you in the whole world, and you don’t need to stress out your writing with thoughts of what readers think, what editors think, what agents think, what anyone thinks.

Just you and the words. You and your story.

(I’m now missing owning a closet. Maybe I should buy one of these paper playhouses:–>)

Yes, when I was little, I had a room in the cupboard under the stairs. I wanted to make it my bedroom, but I wasn’t allowed. It was an AWESOME playroom. And when I had the whole third floor as a bedroom, I retreated into the back of my closet, behind my clothes, curled up, and read.

You know I live in a little camper. And when we went to look at bigger campers, I was less than enthused. In fact, while I felt it was a practical decision (might be nice to have a working stove and electricity and a bathroom and such), I was everything but enthusiastic.

*sigh* We’ll see.

If I had a real house, I’d want one of those tiny houses. Have you heard of them?

If I had to go big, I could go for the fully-functional LEGO house, where even the sink is made from LEGOs. It was torn down, but when it was standing, it was two stories. More pictures here.

Did you make little spaces as a kid? Forts? Playrooms? Hideaways? Do you ever long for them as an adult? Ever want to retreat while you write? And have you ever written in a closet?

I’d always hoped that the United States would one day grow up to be the United Federation of Planets. In fact, aside from a few practical details, I believed we were headed that way. (Yes, I was young and naïve.)

But if you look at the nineties, you could believe it a possibility. If you look at today’s climate, it seems like we’ve turned our back on evolving into a better country and a more humane world.

Coincidentally, I noticed there are no Star Trek shows on.

There’s 24.

How reflective of our culture.

Which comes first? The chicken or the egg? Do shows like 24 bring about an acceptance of unethical, illegal, and ineffective techniques like torture? Or do shows like 24 succeed because they strike a chord with the beliefs of the current culture?

Don’t get me wrong, I loved 24. At some point, though, it felt like propaganda for Bush’s torture and invasion-of-privacy policies. The show and I had a falling out after that.

I’m longing for a show, like Star Trek, that dreams of an ideal future for humanity. I’m longing for a show that espoused acceptance for and curiosity about other cultures. And above all, a respect for all of our differences and the dignity of each being—whether “other” or alike, smarter, poorer, richer, or less smart.

Even more than missing Star Trek, I’m missing the hope that we are continually evolving into a better species, that our political landscape will become more and more concerned with human rights and freedoms and less and less concerned with making war and being greedy.

Did Star Trek give me that hope? Or did I love Star Trek, because I saw in it the hope I had for humanity? For society? What about you? Do you miss Star Trek?

Because I think I’ve forgotten. It cracks me up. I got drafted to volunteer for twenty minutes, because Glenn was volunteering for his friends, the campground owners, and his partner in crime wasn’t around to do his part of the cooking. But then the twenty minutes kept going on and on because they just didn’t have enough people, and his partner in crime was not doing any cooking.

I had not volunteered (this is not a charity; the owners are getting paid a ton for this), but when I got roped in, I said I’d stay until 5:30. One lady yelled at me because she wanted me to do something, and I was all, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, tell someone else. I was supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.”

And I have this idea in my head that when I establish a boundary, it will be respected. No, LOL.

She yelled something like, “I’m not telling someone else. You do it.” (I said no again, she yelled at me again.) She was pissed because she got sucked into working and it was her day off. (This campground works their camp hosts like CRAZY. The agreement is 18 hours a week in exchange for a site, but it’s more like 35-60 hours a week. And they all seem to put up with it, which is bizarre to me. They complain, but they all keep doing it. Is this a generational thing? They’re all 62-75.)

I should add that we are not camp hosts. We’re just paying customers. Glenn is happy to chip in because he’s friends with the hosts. I’m happy to volunteer to do water aerobics because I like my class. Otherwise, I’m too busy writing.

So I had had it, because I’ve been working from four a.m. to midnight, trying to get my WIP done. Slaving in a hot kitchen was not on the agenda, especially since I wasn’t getting paid and I hadn’t volunteered or committed to it in the first place.

So I walked away, because I knew if my body was there, people would keep asking me to do things. (I have no idea why they were asking me, since I don’t work there and I had not committed to doing anything.) And the other lady yelled, “I’m not supposed to be here, either!”

And I told her, “Then just walk away.”

She seemed rather astonished, as if this were a novel concept. And she continued working!!!

The whole thing is now hilarious. Is this what it’s like to work for someone else? You just have to put in extra time if they need it, even if they aren’t paying you extra and it wasn’t agreed upon?

LOL, that really sucks. Wow.

Now I truly understand why Zoe quit thirty-three jobs. I don’t mind working extra for myself (for even pennies an hour, evidently), but I’m not real good at the whole working-extra-for-someone-else thing.

Glenn, apparently, had a blast. He doesn’t mind, even if he got abandoned to do the job of two and a half people. That must be normal, too, what with all the downsizing and layoffs. He’s accustomed to working for people, and he just shrugs stuff like that off.

Fascinating. I feel like this was important research. It’s a side of the human experience I’d forgotten about; I’m completely out of touch with what it’s like to work for The Man.

So, if you have or had a day job, what is or was it like? Stories, please!

We had an earthquake! A new Arizona experience! It came from Mexico, and by the time it got all the way to where I was sitting in the Borders cafe, it felt like someone was massaging my toes.

My last snowbird friend is leaving the campground in the morning. I am sad. I am very sad. I adore these people and can’t wait until next winter when they all come back. I have a mental list of who’s coming back in which months, so already I’m looking forward to November.

Yesterday it was in the high eighties. Glenn and I went RV shopping (didn’t buy anything), and I was hot and overheated and panting and dehydrated in shorts and a tank top. In Ohio, this is as hot as it gets!

Meanwhile, all the Arizonians were still wearing pants and long sleeves.

Yes, I’m staying for the summer. (90% sure.) No, we do not yet have an air conditioner. (60% sure we’ll get one.)

I want to say something interesting, but I can’t think of anything. And that is how my writing is going. So I am going to harness the magic of blogging and request of the universe that after I finish this thing I’m currently writing, that–

–my YA be a “gift” book. Fast and easy and quick.

Please?

If you had one thing to ask from the magical blogosphere genies, what would you ask? (Okay, don’t get all world peace on me, here.)