On How I’ve Labeled Myself (Writer First, Coach Second)

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve last written anything here.

That’s how most of my old diary entries start. But I always did write more eventually. And I have a few old notebooks filled up with diary entries. I don’t look at them much, unless I want to joke about them being “depressing literature” because I was such a lonely kid. But it’s always helped me to write things down, and it still does. Whether or not anyone sees it doesn’t matter as much to me as getting the words out and sorting out my thoughts.

It’s a bit braver to put the words out in public, even if it doesn’t feel that way. People are so quick with criticism. Though critics bother me less and less as I’m getting older.

It’s easier to be praised if we only put our positive thoughts out in public. I’ve never been too fond of that, because it’s hard to only think positively of a world that so often sure hasn’t been positive for me. It’s been positive enough. I can count my blessings and know the ways I’m lucky. But so often to me, “Count your blessings.” sounds more like “Give up and settle for less.” Call me stubborn, but giving up is something I’ve never been able to do.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for almost as long as I can remember. And I am. I thought I wasn’t a “real writer” for a while, because when I went to school for writing the sci fi and fantasy books I loved were harshly criticized by the “esteemed” professors (who, coincidentally I’m sure, don’t make enough money on writing alone like sci fi and fantasy authors, and so must teach and, apparently, pass on their bitterness). I was told not to write fantasy or sci fi for my classes. So I tried to write other things. And it wasn’t in me. I tried to write things not from the heart to please them. And I was told I wasn’t good enough. And I hate that I believed them for a while. That I still believe them just a little.

They were wrong. Of course they were wrong. I always knew it. But I smiled and nodded and tried to see things their way, when they never deemed it necessary to even try to see my way.

It would be nice to tell myself “I’ll show them.” But the truth is, I know now it’s impossible to please people who have decided the person I am doesn’t matter because I don’t see things their way. Not only bitter old professors, writing and otherwise. Plenty of people I’ve crossed paths with. You know who you are (though I don’t expect you to read this, and it’s quite the depths you’ve sunk to if you while your days away looking for “dirt” on me, really, not that that’s any of my business). It’s incredibly freeing to realize this.

It’s been upsetting to shelve my dreams to take on the title of “therapist” after seeing behind the curtain of the mental health field from multiple angles soured my taste for it. But it’s been freeing to take on old dreams again. To put my “writer” label first and foremost. It never really left top importance for me. I’ve learned to stop trying to lie about that, is all. I don’t want to lie anymore about who I am.

I’m going to be myself. I spent so much of my life living for helping other people, and what did I ever get for it? A heaping portion of anxiety! I’m allowed to take care of myself. My own needs. My own dreams.

I’ve tried to put life coaching as my top goal for a while, after such a long struggle finding mental health work. It’s still something I want to do. Coaching, and therapy too, at some point in life. But I need to live more of this life for myself, and the people who truly stand by me. I still want to help others. I still want to be a coach. But it’s time I accepted coaching others isn’t my sole label anymore, and never should have been. Part of me already knew that, when “life coach” wasn’t the label I put first on my social media accounts. “Writer” was. And is. And I’m happy with that.

Other labels will come and go throughout my life. I look forward to “cybersecurity enthusiast” moving towards “cybersecurity professional”, for one, because it’s one I’m working towards. “Writer,” however, is going to remain more important to me. And I’m proud of that decision to be true to myself.

True Art

You paint your face

in ways handed down over the years

and learned through hours

of careful study,

and you say

you’re not into art

because nobody ever told you

that’s what this is.

 

You play a game

with a story

as complex as a

Greek tragedy,

as compelling as film,

and you say

you’re not into art

because nobody ever told you

that’s what this is.

 

Nobody ever told you

God is not a

fearsome old man,

but a child with a paintbrush,

holding each of us up in turn,

and, needing no critic,

saying,

“It’s beautiful.

It’s exactly

what I wanted it

to be.”

To My Teenage Self

At the end of May in 2017 you will
have survived much worse than this.
You will wake
and love the warm weather
until
your allergies assert themselves,
but
a headache is nothing as a price of happiness.
You will boil water to mix with honey and lemon.
Inhaling the aroma,
you will just begin to heartily agree with your record player
that yes, only the good die young,
when
your phone will ring to nothing but
a wrong number.
You will allow yourself a little sarcasm in saying
you have no idea who they’re asking for.

You will tell the young Billy Joel
“Blame it all on yourself” is
an unhealthy relationship model
and someone who really was always a woman
would have told him so
but you’ll think he seems to
be doing alright
despite the pain of his years,
and you’re not that far yet,
but so are you.

The pain I am writing to you from within
will soften enough for
a barefoot jaunt in the front yard,
for stray liquid droplets upon your arm
to whisper that
the greatest heat will
always be broken by rain;
for you to smile at the reminder that
all kinds of weather have their music.

poem by Angela Cook, 2017

Discarded Doll, a poem (TW: child abuse)

Hush, little babydoll.

Don’t say a word.

I’ll put you on the shelf.

Don’t you look pretty?

Such a good little girl

who doesn’t talk back.

Hush, little babydoll.

Don’t say a word.

You fell off your shelf

and chipped your porcelain skin.

I’ll patch your lace to hide it.

No one will ever know.

Such a good little girl

who doesn’t talk back.

That shelf seems too scary.

Wouldn’t want you hurt again.

Here’s a shelf of glass to keep you safe.

A wall of glass between us

you’ll only leave when I say.

Such a good little girl

who doesn’t talk back.

The world is cruel, little babydoll.

At least I have you.

Don’t you look pretty

with your porcelain lips?

Hush, little babydoll.

Don’t say a word.

I’m so lonely.

Don’t you love me?

Just one little kiss.

Such a good little girl

who can’t talk back.

Hush, little babydoll.

I’m tired of you now.

You don’t mind, do you?

My pretty little girl.

I don’t love you anymore

now that you can talk back.

I only love good little girls

who can’t talk back.

Return to Sender

I found some things of yours

In the attic of my heart and mind

And forgive the long delay

But it’s time I returned them.

It isn’t much.

No gift ever was enough in your opinion,

But you can feel free of the annoying fetters of obligation

For this is my last gift to you:

This secondhand shame you threw over my shoulders;

This borrowed anger and pawned off guilt.

I’ve carried these things for you long enough,

And really,

They fit you so much better.

A Cyborg Lullaby

Let’s begin this the way any apocalyptic horror movie begins.

This is our main character :

Steve had never encountered the idea that he was automatically being watched by machines.

This is very robots taking over the world kind of thing

computers cannot control me

oh boy where’s this gonna go

using computers to monitor people worked

 it reduced accidents and death

some like Steve feel definitively uncomfortable about it

I don’t think I saw it coming back then

the new intrusions that pop up every day

Is that good or is that creepy?

 just isn’t sure how all this stuff is gonna affect us.

The invisible force we are looking at is computers.

We are gonna take on this question:

How do computers change us?

 To see if a computer can change who we are

let’s begin with a cyborg: a highly respected, profoundly influential cyborg.

 Thad took this box which houses a computer hard drive and strapped it to his body.

He called it Lizzy.

For the last 20 years Thad has been living with a computer of one kind or another continuously. some kind of computer attached to his body. That’s the case.

What happens when you mix man and machine?

so that it changes the way that you think.

Ironically the story begins in one of the least technological places in the US:

 a small town near Lancaster and its Amish farms.

 There was nothing of interest.

 Cow tipping is actually a sport.

Thad got a computer and started programming and everything changed

could have control of things.

Actually computers could be about more than just fun

You’re telling me you knew this stuff at some point but you forgot? Losing a chunk of yourself. The answer was computers.

 Computers are great at remembering stuff.

You just need a way to weave them into everyday life.

I could either pay attention in class or I could take notes but I could not do both.

That made Thad lose the knowledge he wanted to have.

Thad happened on an answer.

It’s all this code and little pieces of text.

There’s my solution:

 having a HUD and having the information I need right there.

 It took a long time but finally one happy spring afternoon in 93 Lizzy was born.

Thad and his computer were joined.

Thad realized all kinds of things.

Think about if you were typing a Google search for every sentence you say.

Occasionally you look down

the memories.

It’s tricky sometimes

when you’re fused with a computer

to know where one ends

and the other begins.

 having your brain augmented by a computer.

instantly bring up notes on conversation.

and often in those notes was the kind of small personal information we often forget.

Again an outsider might see a confusion of man and machine

that cheapens the interaction.

Having these notes on my eyeball made the conversations deeper.

 Led to other changes.

Think about it.

It’s always there. It represents a certain amount of power

and control over your life.

You felt it.

It was with you.

I always had it within a few feet.

Thad really

retains this blue sky view of computers.

“There was no down side?”

“Obvious thing is you have to charge it.”

“From your perspective there is no downside.”

 “It’s like saying what are the downsides of wearing eyeglasses.

Otherwise

 I couldn’t see.”

The question is: good or creepy?  According to Thad it’s all good.

 Let’s pause for a moment and think of that last analogy. I’ve heard that analogy a lot.

I augment my foot’s natural ability by wearing shoes.

Very few of us are running around naked in the woods.

Linking computers and humans is fine, because there’s no real difference. Humans have always built tools.

 Often when a new one is introduced, there is hand wringing.

 No one today believes that writing has made us worse or less human;

ultimately won’t challenge the core of what it means to be human.

One day we will see our current selves as goldfish. Why would this tool above all the others cause such a massive change in our species?

Computers will change our brains,

in a way that transforms how we think.

So it’s not just a tool.

This is not a faster weaving machine.

 This is very close to being the essence of us.

 actually something to look forward to.

Our humanity will be enhanced…

 the enlargement of the human experience. It’s changing us dramatically all the time.

 To integrate man with his computer…you don’t have to punch in a password:

 It’s just there, quietly telling you where to look.

Giving you all the news you need.

 Will computers make us better? Will they make us worse?

or will we basically keep being humans?

 It’s very hard to tell.

How can computers get into our wiring and mess with who we are?

People keep their heads down.

Miniscule cruelties.

Are you really only thinking of yourself?

Good, now people are going to know about you.

You should be held accountable

for your bad behavior.

 That feeling you get when you vent to a friend is like a tonic;

 helps us feel content and feel at ease.

The Internet is particularly good at giving you that feeling.

The potency is what’s new.

Online you’re primarily communicating through text.

We don’t have social cues.

Can all feel like a game.

It turns into Lord of the Flies very quickly

online.

Is all that nastiness we see online our worst selves

or our true selves?

Scientists agree we have created a realm

humanity finds a way to eke through.

Anger spread faster online than joy or sadness or disgust.

 You’re right,

you’re right,

you’re right. The only problem is that over time using that online vent to cure your anger actually makes us more likely to become aggressive.

That notion that it helps, it’s wrong.

As surreal as the online world may seem,

emotions travel through it.

Computers do not always

pump us full of anger.

It is all about how we use them.

The computers are here now.

Do you wanna lie down?

Wanna hear a little song?

This is a lullaby I’ll sing to my babies,

when the Internet runs through their bloodstreams,

 the lullaby.

when our skin’s all pale

 from forgetting to get light.

Found Poem from this Source:

Miller, Lulu, and Alix Spiegel. “Our Computers, Ourselves.” Audio blog post. Invisibilia. NPR, 13 Feb. 2015. Web. 21 Apr. 2015. <http://www.npr.org/programs/invisibilia/385792677/our-computers-ourselves?showDate=2015-02-13&gt;.

On Magical Girls, “Strong Female Characters”, and Reclaiming “Girly”

I’ve recently been very into watching Game of Thrones and reading the books it’s based on, A Song of Ice and Fire. I’m so behind on the show I gave up on keeping myself away from spoilers and read episode synopses of what I haven’t watched yet. The first two seasons of the show stick fairly close to the books, and it starts to diverge after that, partially because there are so many more characters in the books there’s no way they could all be covered.

There’s one way the show diverges from the books that bothers me in some ways.

(SPOILERS AHEAD, IF THAT’S NOT OBVIOUS AND YOU CARE ABOUT THAT KIND OF THING)

Your mileage may vary, but I think the shows tries too hard in some ways to have what society currently considers “strong female characters.” The books are extremely steeped in medieval history, and I understand some of the changes are to make things more palatable for a modern audience. It’s hard for modern people to identify with how HUGE a deal arranged marriages are in the books, for example. It can seem odd to modern readers how willingly women in the books go along with this, but it wasn’t so long ago in history that women, especially of noble families, had next to no choice in the matter. That isn’t a statement for or against anything, it’s simply a statement of fact. Arranged marriages are STILL a thing in many cultures and parts of the world.

I don’t disagree with many of the choices made to make female characters more relatable to modern women, but I do think it’s an opportunity for discussion. Let’s get to the examples I’m thinking of. (Again, spoilers ahead for both the books and the show.)

I’m very into the romance between Robb Stark and the woman he marries in the show, Talisa, whom he marries for love and mutual respect, though this causes issues because, though it was against his will, he was promised in an arranged marriage to someone else. In the books, he marries a woman named Jeyne, for much less romantic reasons: She “comforted” him (They had sex and she was a virgin, and the huge emphasis on virginity is another thing strange to modern audiences but based very much in history.) after he was injured in a battle , and he felt obligated to marry her. She’s a very softspoken character and talks excitedly about how much she and Robb are “trying to make him an heir as soon as possible.” I definitely understand how this version of Robb’s wife could fall flat with a modern audience, though the fact that in the books she isn’t killed along with Robb puts more of a wrench into adapting the books to film than the vast though understandable change to her personality.

This is partially because I’m so behind on the show, and I understand that in many ways Sansa Stark and Arya Stark are both shown to be strong in their own ways further on, but, especially with fan reactions, and even my own reactions to them, it bothers me that Arya’s tomboy brand of femininity is embraced much more often than Sansa’s softspoken “traditional” femininity. (There’s really no such thing as “traditional” gender roles, especially if you compare and contrast various cultures and times, but that’s a long discussion for another day.) I love stories of strong warrior women. I’m tomboyish in many ways myself. What bothers me about the celebration of “warrior woman” characters is it often involves the putting down of “traditionally” feminine characters. This implies, to me at least, that you’re only considered a strong woman if you act like a man. I think this is rectified later in parts of the show and books I haven’t experienced yet, but it’s something to think about and discuss.

I have a soft spot for magical girl anime, and in many ways it’s helped me celebrate BOTH being a “warrior woman” while also celebrating reclaiming “girly” things. Everyone is free to display how they feel about gender in their own way, and I’m by no means discounting however it is expressing that looks for you. I’m speaking of my own journey, and hopefully others can identify with it.

Magical girl anime is unapologetically “girly”, yet it also gives the strong impression that that’s not a bad thing and doesn’t stop girls or women from also being empowered and strong. It’s been in vogue to celebrate the ultra “masculine” cartoons and anime of the 80s and 90s and new similar ones today. It’s less common to celebrate “girly.” And why shouldn’t we? The Femicom Musuem is very in line with this: dedicated to the preservation and reimagination of femininity, girlhood, and the aesthetics of cute within twentieth-century video games, computing, and electronic toys.

If you want to be girly because it makes you feel good, great! If you want to be “masculine” or “tomboyish” and that’s what makes you feel good, also great! If it’s some combination of the two, which it is with most people to at least some degree, varying on the day, go for it!

We will fight on our own.

We are not helpless girls

Who need the protection of men. 😉

(Screencaps from the opening of Sailor Moon Crystal)

The Joy of Defiance

I wish I could hold my younger self tight in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be alright,

not perfect, but alright, not as bleak

as today. I wish I could tell her what I wasn’t told enough:

You are enough.

You are enough.

You are enough.

Love is not something

to be withheld. It is something

to be given

and held, and you

are held

in

a love beyond comprehension. I wish

I could tell you these things,

but

in a way

you already knew,

and

who knows?

Maybe

time is a circle we can’t comprehend

and somehow, I DID reach back through the past

to tell you.

That explanation

is no crazier than anything else you have lived,

yet always

you remained defiant,

and the joy of defiance

that has at times been trouble

has also been your saving grace.

Too stubborn to give up,

too stubborn to throw down your weapons and lie down in the abyss,

you show the darkness a smirk of contempt,

sword drawn and ready,

with strength

that seems like foolishness

to the unitiatied.

I am proud of how far you’ve come.

Plucking Poetry (found poem)

I know

somewhere, eyes looked

in remembrance of Eden.

May I happily

pluck poetry from rosebushes

and let yourself forget

how intertwined

I find myself,

find inspiration in

what is beautiful.

I shall feel now that

I depart from a discarded flower, wilting away, adding more often.

If wings were a substance to move forward

There is something

These pages

can completely wipe away.

One Flesh (poem)

These days, it is hard to imagine a man

and woman being “one flesh” forever

as I think of parents long divorced

like so many others in this “progressive” age.

There is something I am longing to return to;

something found in the dusty pages of Genesis:

something not so much a fact as a feeling.

Looking back at the Garden of Eden, it can still be beautiful to

imagine, if we can imagine it at all in this modern world.

It is not like I can see it in my mind: the trees and flowers

surrounding that first couple with idyllic beauty.

It is not like I can feel the touch of a hand

and say, “This is now bone of my bones,

and flesh of my flesh,” but surely it would be beautiful

to awaken, after a lonely life,

to a companion crafted lovingly by a Creator;

to awaken to my own desire looking back at

me, not with base servitude or blind devotion,

but with a piece of myself I had been

waiting for all my life.

Seasons (poem)

If happiness is

a butterfly waiting to

land on my shoulder

I wish it would hurry up.

Cherry blossoms fall

and love blooms for everyone:

everyone but me.

The sun shines brightly.

I do not see it shining

at my computer.

Time for new learning,

time for leaves falling and time

for me to move on.

Snow on the cold ground

freezes over with time like

the pain in my heart.

Cherry blossoms fall.

I catch you glancing at me.

The cycle renews.

5 Lies You Learned in English Class

1. “It’s a classic.” means it’s good.
   • If you wrote something as long-winded as Charles Dickens today, people would truthfully tell you your writing style is terrible.      
2. Intellectual trumps personal.
   • Bullshit. If a story makes you feel something, your feelings are valid. Well okay, literary criticism can get pretty out there, but you don’t have to write some weird-ass paper about how you feel about a book…unless you’re into that, I guess.
3. Only “literary fiction” is “true literature.”
   • I love reading. I always have. Guess what? Even I, book nerd though I am, hated plenty of the books I had to read for school!
4. To appreciate a book, you have to analyze the shit out of it.
   • There’s no better way to make someone hate reading than to force them to read a book they’re uninterested in, then force them to pick apart every single page for metaphors and symbolism and allegory and whatnot that may or may not even be there.
5. As soon as you grow up, the books you read have to be about boring adult shit.
   • I still read books marked as young adult literature and I don’t give a shit. Madeleine L’Engle, author of A Wrinkle in Time, once said, “You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if that book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” Kids don’t care about “scary” or “inappropriate” books. They’ll eat them up. Adults are the ones who censor “because think of the children!”

around my bones (found poem using the JanusNode program)

I’ll laugh and play

a certain way he gave me.

I look around my bones

and say,

This brain

 connecting us

 is a cracked egg;

 the crunch of coffee,

       maybe

       is all of you

                     I had.

The system hurts autistic people. (originally posted on my Instagram)

I wasn’t diagnosed as autistic until adulthood, but my discomfort with eye contact should have made it obvious. Instead of understanding and correctly diagnosing me when I was hospitalized with major burnout at 15, mental health professionals forced me to make eye contact to earn “points” and belittled me when the dehumanization made me angry. Then they threw pills at me and called it bipolar disorder when the antidepressants made me “manic.”

I’m still dealing with my anger over these things.

I want to be a therapist but it’s difficult while knowing full well how often the system that’s supposed to help people only further traumatizes them.

I want to believe in the mental health system and believe it can be improved, and use my mental health counseling degree for good, but the system hurt me. It continues to hurt others like me. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m seen as unreasonable for speaking up about these things. Autism speaks, but the system won’t listen. I’m going to continue speaking up even if it blacklists me from getting to change that system from the inside. I’d love to help other autistic people deal with the world. Contact me about #lifecoaching for yourself or your child if you’re interested or mention me to someone you know who might be interested.