• Category Archives artist’s life

  • Not Ashamed: Science Fiction Writer

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    I was talking to someone whom I would consider an amiable acquaintance. I liked her well enough and had reason to believe she also liked me. In fact, one thing I know is that she considered me smart. And I know that because of the following conversation.

    Her: I heard you’re writing a book! What are you writing?

    Me: It’s scifi and—

    Her: Oh! But you’re smart…

    I was so shocked by this belief that scifi isn’t smart, and by the fact that anyone wouldn’t just assume scifi was my realm, that I didn’t reply in any sort of useful way. I’ve since thought that, given the chance to do it again, I’d have responded either by asking what she thinks smart people do write (and then saying some of what I say below) or by noting aloud that she’s obviously not very familiar with science fiction.

    I wish I could say that this scenario was unlike any other experience I’ve had, but I try hard not to lie.

    No, it seems that smart people can write poetry and lyrics (though there are people who assume that my lyrics turning into rock music, instead of some other kind of music, is proof that those probably aren’t smart). And I guess they, the smart people, write fine literature, the great American novel, or non-fiction. But never scifi (or, I’m betting, any kind of fantasy or horror).

    Before I laugh myself to death, let me assure you that many, many writers (and readers) of those presumed non-smart genres are ridiculously smart. That some of the wisest words I’ve read in fiction have been found in scifi (Dune, anyone?). And that assuming a whole genre of writers aren’t smart is, itself, not exactly a smart mindset.

    And even if scifi were never smart.

    And even if every other speculative fiction writer were a drooling moron, barely able to figure out how to make letters.

    Why would I be ashamed of making something out of the stories that fill my head? As I noted in my post about being a daydreamer, why would I feel ashamed at having that rich internal life?

    For some, it hasn’t been about smartness. They expect me to feel ashamed because I’m writing something that’s not to their tastes. That’s so ludicrous I can’t even conceive of responding to that. Except to suggest that maybe my tastes aren’t the ones with room for shame. Ha! (No, in all seriousness, enjoy what you enjoy. I might not want to catch a film with you if we don’t share tastes, but that doesn’t mean I believe you should feel shame.)

    Another likely reason it’s suggested I feel shame is that scifi is frivolous (according to some people). Oh, mate…I can appreciate that not all art speaks to all people. And you should certainly stick to what speaks to you (though I find that occasionally giving something new in a genre or art form a chance can lead to unexpectedly good moments). But scifi has taught me important lessons, saved my sanity, and (along with other speculative fiction) been proven to make my brain a better place.

    The only other reason I can think of that people think I should feel ashamed of being a scifi author is that the act is proof I’m a geek. And I already told you how unashamed I am of being a geek.

    So, yes, that’s correct; I am smart and I write science fiction (and read it and watch it and love it). And I can’t even understand why you think I should be ashamed of that. It’s beyond magical to write my own escape hatch out of the real world.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    artist's life not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Ambitiously Pursuing My Dreams

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    Ambition has its pitfalls. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t. For the sake of fulfilling ambitions, people have lied, cheated, stolen, and done all manner of other immoral and unethical things. They’ve thoughtlessly ruined relationships. They’ve lived with only their own personal glory in mind.

    I’m not here to say that all ambitious pursuit ought to be free of shame. Nope. I fully advocate shame for some people and the way they pursue what they do.

    But I’ve examined both my dreams and my intentions. I don’t just know what I want, but I also know why I want those things. And I see no shame in wanting success with my music or my writing, nor do I see shame in the reasons I want that success. (I won’t elaborate here, but there’s a list of reasons, and they have nothing to do with personal glory.)

    There are two ways in which my pursuits of my ambitions are seen as a reason for shame, in addition to the reasons listed in my rock musician and scifi writer essays.

    First, some people look at what they see as the personal cost of my pursuit. Working hard takes time and resources. How can I “waste” those on what I do? As I explain, I believe that talents are like divine callings. If you have a talent, there is something you are meant to do with it. I think that the purpose doesn’t just vary talent to talent, but person to person. I’ve done what I can to figure out how my talents are best spent. And, in the past, I have tried to live a life where I didn’t give that my all, but spent my time and resources on more “normal” and less-criticised things. I felt…hollow and incomplete.

    I don’t take lightly the impact of my actions on others. I try to be mindful. But I also recognise I won’t do it perfectly; none of us can make it through life without causing some upset, hurting some feelings. I do my best. I’m sorry that not everyone approves. But I feel no shame. (The only time I feel shame, a shame that sits deep in me and can’t be talked away, is when I don’t give everything I can to making the best of my talents. And then I am miserable. So those whose judgement seems rooted in the fact that I’m not social with them as often as they’d like, I’d say you either aren’t a true friend—cos you’d rather I be miserable so you can hang out with me—or you haven’t thought this through.)

    The other way in which my pursuits are seen as a reason for shame have specifically to do with the realm of my ambitions. If I were ambitious to the same degree but it were business, law, medicine, and things like that, I’d be spared this particular set of judgements. Because there are those, including those amoungst my friends, who believe that the only pure ambitions in the arts are those that have to do with making your best art. The instant you also admit that you wouldn’t mind if you got paid for it (you know, being paid to do what I love, like non-artistic people can do without judgement…being able to focus all my time on the art instead of having to give my whole day to a “day job” and cramming bits of art into my evening…) or that you see benefits in being known by people other than your friends, you’re suspect and a sell-out and a defiler of art.

    Ehm, no. I’m working to make authentic art that speaks to me and is high quality. Your limited capacity to conceive of a situation where one can be true to art and hope that truth helps pay the rent doesn’t sound like a cause for me to feel shame…(It’s okay. Pause a moment, reassess, change your mind. See, now you’re good? Didn’t change your mind? Well, now you know a topic you’re best not pressing me on.)

    Because I continue to work hard towards my dreams and to do that without shame.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    artist's life not ashamed relationships

  • Not Ashamed: Rock Musician

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    Being a rock musician comes with a reputation, doesn’t it?

    Smart and cultured people play in orchestras or play folk music.

    Rock music is for the loud, the deviant, the not-as-talented, the disturbed.

    Rock musicians will surely end up earning scandalous stories in tabloids. And that’s if they even get enough renown to merit space in those cheap papers.

    I see the disappointment and disapproval in people’s eyes when they ask what kind of musician I am. As if rock is a lesser genre.

    As if my character has been proven lacking by my association. (Should I mention that some of the best people I’ve know have been rock musicians or rock music lovers?)

    But let me tell you about rock music.

    Me performing

    Rock is a broad umbrella, which is tough when I’m describing what music I make but is great because I feel like it can be a really inclusive term.

    Rock music is full of passion and has plenty of room for both the terribly talented and the ones whose talents aren’t traditionally musical.

    Rock music lets me growl my anger or sob along to heartbreaks.

    Its dirty underbelly spoke to a younger and more broken me, allowed me to connect with it and, most importantly, be saved by it.

    Rock music has been the perfect soundtrack for rolling around with people I fancied or storming the dance floor. It’s let me rage and let me bleed and let me swell with joy.

    Rock music…with its electric guitars but also its electric violins, not to mention acoustic instruments and a dizzying range of voices.

    That you don’t appreciate rock music doesn’t make it bad. (Art is subjective. Your tastes don’t determine what is good.)

    That you don’t appreciate it doesn’t make it lesser or less worthwhile.

    I thrive here. My talents shine here. It’s where I was born to be. And, oh, I am so far the opposite of ashamed.

    (Want to check out what I do? Here’s the site for my main project, where you will notice the songs don’t all sound the same. Even my non-rock-loving mum liked a couple of our songs…)

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    artist's life not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Daydreamer

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    “Your head’s in the clouds again, isn’t it?”

    From a young age, it was clear that my daydreaming was problematic.

    Daydreamers don’t pay enough attention to adults.

    Daydreamers don’t concentrate enough on grown up things.

    Daydreamers rudely live in a world that others can’t access.

    Daydreamers are impractical.

    Daydreamers are too easily distracted.

    Shame on us!

    Shame on us?

    picture of space (Two galaxies: NGC 2207 and IC 2163)

    I don’t think so.

    Daydreamers don’t stay needlessly trapped in a mundane world.

    Daydreamers are the visionaries who change our world with their innovations and inventions.

    Daydreamers are the ones who push on for big goals because that daydreaming helped them grow deep roots that would let them survive trials.

    Daydreamers are the artists, able to transport even the non-daydreamers to other worlds because they (the daydreamers) have spent time in those worlds though their bodies are trapped in this one.

    Daydreamers are accessing a little more magic and, therefore, a little more joy, even if that joy isn’t what you see as joy.

    So, yes, indeed, I am unabashedly a daydreamer. And the older and busier I get, the more decadent and nourishing my daydream time is. I wallow in that as often as possible. And I’m not inclined to apologise, much less feel ashamed. I love my inner world too much to sully it with unnecessary shame.

    p.s. My head isn’t in the clouds; it’s in the stars and in entirely other worlds.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    artist's life inspirations & influences not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Night Owl

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    And now for something a little lighter. Or darker, I guess. Because, y’know, night time. Creature of the night! Night owl.

    Owl bobs its head and declares "Owl Power!"

    I’m not an insomniac. I’m a night owl.

    I’m not a wannabe vampire. I’m a night owl.

    My circadian rhythms have spoken! And, sure, being a night owl can be handy for the rockstar thing and the pale thing, but it obviously puts me at odds with the normal world, produces some complications, and seems to lead to (what I consider) unwarranted mocking and resentment.

    People make a lot of assumptions, including a certain loved one who spent years telling me I just wasn’t disciplined enough. Or the many people who think that me waking up at noon is a luxury and I’m lazy. (It’s not; I’m not. I get the 8-9 hours of sleep I need, that’s all, and then I’m stupid busy and don’t even really find time for video games any more.)

    But I can tell you that my body temperature confirms my night owl-ness. Really, you can use your body temperature and some mindfulness to figure it out.

    And my creative rhythm also confirms it. Not that I wouldn’t stay up late to obey the muse, even if I were a morning lark or day walker or whatever you call normal people.

    I don’t think you sunlight kids are less cool. But you’ll have to wait until a little later in the day for me to be awake enough to be legitimately reassuring on that point.

    baby owls acting cute

    To go a little serious:

    • I think a number of people I’ve known, though not all, who seem to suffer insomnia have been trying to force themselves into circadian rhythms other than those their body naturally has. This includes people who stay up late because it’s just what their friends do as much as it includes those forced to sleep the hours their job dictates.
    • Sleep is really, really important. Really. Science has proven it (and said so much about it that your cultural disdain of it is really kind of stupid). My life experience has proven it (in dramatic ways). Get sleep. Figure out your rhythms and honour them. Magic!
    • I might, in fact, have some resentment that, in this day and age, everyone is still expected to cram themselves into the same sleep cycles.

    So, be whatever kind of bird you need to be. Just don’t call or text before noon. (Okay, really, don’t call. I’m never awake enough to love that…)

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    artist's life not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Depression (Not Physiologically Caused)

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    (Trigger warning: depression, self harm, suicide)

    Look at me, actually writing a topic in the posted order! I’m guessing you oughtn’t get too comfy with that. But let’s appreciate it whilst it happens.

    Today, I’m going to talk a bit about when I was depressed for a long while and it wasn’t just the bipolar thing. I know that definitions and terms change and that I’m not a qualified mental health professional, so I’m leery of using actual terms. And, when I was seeing the therapist who helped, my mind state was enough a mess that I didn’t really file away whatever term she used at the time.

    Basically, even before the bipolar hit me (before there were any mania symptoms), the depression hit and hit hard. And I’d probably have been less exhausted for a great deal of my life if I’d not actually been trying to hide that I wasn’t okay. Fortunately, someone who saw through me was also able to get me some help.

    The great thing about this other kind of depression I was dealing with (and that has probably happened a time or two since…like when my mum died or when certain major relationships ended) is that, thus far, I’ve been able to work through it. If you read my entry on being bipolar, you get some sense of what depression feels like for me. Just double it…except that, really, it felt more like every day was at my worst times ten.

    I felt like I could barely move, it was so heavy. And this was definitely my worst self-harm period. Every day, I felt driven to that. Plus, hey, regular thoughts about suicide. (I’ll cover self-harming and suicidal in other entries.) That was if I could keep myself awake or think through the sobbing. When I think of my younger self, of me during that time, I just want to let her curl up in my arms and try to absorb some of that depression.

    The best thing I did was get professional help. I’m eternally grateful to the friends who tried to help, especially the ones who were life-saving. But it wasn’t quite enough. Which is why I’m a vocal supporter of seeing a professional. (I got lucky with my first one; however, I have moved since and have also had someone who wasn’t a good fit, so I’m also a vocal supporter of finding one who works for you.)

    We worked together to root out non-physiological causes and amplifiers of the depression. We talked about ways I could make changes and take steps to fix what could be fixed. We spent loads of time on self-esteem issues (which, hey, another future topic or two). And I made some choices.

    This next bit is about some realisations and a decision that worked for me. I’m not saying this is the right answer for everyone…but, y’know, if you’re running out of ideas….

    One day, I remember driving around and wondering who I was without my depression. I wondered if I would even like non-depressed Amber. I wondered if friends would still like her. I wondered if the social scene I was kind of part of would still consider me a legitimate member. I was a little afraid. I realised that my depression was my default state. That this was how I knew myself. That this was the lens through which I had seen the world for a very long time. That this was a large part of how I would describe Who I Was if giving an honest answer. That, in a twisted way, depression was so familiar that it was like a warm (smothering, limiting, oppressive) security blanket. I realised that, in some way, I might actually be choosing to hold onto it for all those reasons. So I asked myself if I actually enjoyed the admittedly horrible feeling of the depression. I asked if I really wanted friends or a social group who would prefer me to feel that way. I asked myself whether I might not prefer the (hopefully) less-distorted view of myself and my world that would come with not being depressed. I asked myself whether I weren’t ready to find other parts of who I was and give them a chance to thrive. And then I pulled off the road into somewhere abandoned so that I could sob as I made a choice. I decided that, however much I might fear the unknown, I didn’t want to hurt like that any longer. I chose to stop clinging to the depression and gave myself permission to heal.

    Now, before one of you obnoxious people who thinks people choose depression uses this as anecdotal evidence…read the rest. This is just as important. (And you are wrong and shouldn’t ever suggest people just choose not to be depressed. Seriously.)

    After that incident, I did not magically become Not Depressed. I was no longer holding myself back, but I still had to do all the work with my therapist to work through and conquer the depression. I was just not holding myself back any longer. Except when I was, because this was big and scary and the work was hard and took time, and that, in itself, can be depressing. But I still feel like that moment with myself was an important part of my road out of that type of depression.

    On the other side…it felt so much lighter. It was amazing!

    And then I slipped a little when I realised I wasn’t entirely free of depression (oh, hi, bipolar!) and I started to beat myself up and to get depressed that I was depressed. Fortunately, a little help realising that there are some things that I can’t totally control and that the bipolar issue didn’t invalidate all the hard work I’d done to work through the other stuff got me back to my new normal.

    And when other things have happened that have set off depressions, I’m so glad for the work done with a professional. I now have tools and ideas to help work my way through. I’ve also seen how each depression is unique, so that’s helped me not be the sort of prat who assumes that my experience of depression applies to everyone’s experience. I try never to force my tools and solutions on others, because that can make it worse.

    As with my physiologically caused depressions, this stuff isn’t always rational. Even if you can point to the event or thing that caused it, you can’t always pin down why that’s led to me randomly crying in the middle of a nice day.

    I try to figure it out, just in case, but:

    1. You are probably safer not trying to push me to figure it out or to tell you why. Unless you are a mental health professional whom I’m paying to do that.
    2. If I don’t figure it out, I don’t stress. I know this is a thing that happens and I try to be compassionate to myself as I would others. No need making it feel worse by judging myself for not knowing why.

    If you’re struggling with a depression, if it’s sticking around…whether or not you know the cause, I hope you’ll reach out and find some help. If you’re getting help but afraid of suddenly losing this big piece of you (cos, let’s be honest, when you have depression, it is the biggest piece of your life and feels like you are mainly depression with a few other human characteristics thrown in), I promise you that you will be okay (you will be better than you are now) without it and that you have plenty of other parts that will be able to shine if you give them a chance.

    Also, just so we’re clear, I’m always a little depressed (except when the deep anger of mania has me). So I’ll never judge you if you’re depressed. I’ll just hope that, like me, you find a way to carry a little less of that load someday.

    xx

    (If you’d like someone else’s take on depression—something with more pictures and swearing and chances to laugh but still pretty accurate to my own experience, I really adore the way that Allie of Hyperbole and a Half does it. Read her Adventures in Depression and Depression Part Two. I’ve heard people who didn’t understand depression before say these helped them feel they kind of got it.)

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    artist's life history not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Genderfluid

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    I’m doing this post out of order, in spite my intentions to just work through the list from top to bottom, because this was the post that circled around and around in my head whilst I considered doing this series.

    First, like a good philosophy student, I want to define terms. I’m just going to copy and paste what the World Health Organization says:

    “Sex” refers to the biological and physiological characteristics that define men and women.

    “Gender” refers to the socially constructed roles, behaviours, activities, and attributes that a given society considers appropriate for men and women.

    Genderbread Person shows you what different terms mean

    And, here’s the GenderWiki definition of gender fluid, just in case you’re too lazy to look:

    Someone who is gender fluid switches between genders, which may include male, female, neutrois, third gender, or any other genderqueer identity. They can also switch to have combinations at the same time, such as male and female, or other mixes, such as male, neutrois, and a third gender. They can combine varying amounts of gender identities; three, four, or five, or many with which the individual identifies. They can also be every gender and combination at once, a term known as polygender (other terms for which may include multigender or pangender, which may be considered derogatory by some).

    But some of you are here not for a consolidation of definitions; you want to read what this means to me. Especially if you already looked up genderfluid (look, I’ve seen it with and without the space and I like it spelled this way) and realise that this is one of those things where you need to actually ask me what I mean if you want to know how it applies to me. Given the big role gender played in my life, even before I knew what gender was, I’m happy to help you understand.

    As a kid, obviously, the word “gender” didn’t mean anything to me, even though the concept impacted me. I knew I was a girl (look! girl bits!), but I also knew that I liked boy things as much as or more than girl things (something that will mean something else when we talk about my bisexuality…ha!). And I knew that this confused and bothered some people, and that it made friendships difficult. Girls thought I was weird for liking boy things; boys weren’t sure they believed I liked boy things because I also liked girl things. Ugh! That was a real pain for wee Amber.

    TipToAvoidGenderingBabies

    It also led to turmoil later. I went through years and years where I tried to strongly reject all girl things (not that I wanted to be a boy, but if I liked boy things more in general, I didn’t want girl things getting in the way of friendships…plus, my subconscious feminist hadn’t yet realised that this was doing me a disservice; she just knew that boys seemed to have a better deal in life and I wanted in on that…and then I tried to balance not wanting to hate being a girl with trying not to be “too much a girl” and had a whole different miserable experience). I hated colours purely on principle, I was distraught if someone accused me of being at all girl-like, I was ashamed of the things about my body that proved that I was a girl. But I never actually wanted to be a boy in a way that would lead me to change my body or be trans. I felt guilty when I liked things that I’d lumped in as girl things (someone bought me a relaxing spa facial that was ruined by feeling guilty the whole time). I even only wore makeup at one point (I wanted to wear it, but I felt I needed an excuse) because I’d grown up knowing and knowing of plenty of boys who did that (thank you, David Bowie). I wanted people to be romantically interested in me because of me, not because they wanted girly me or because they could picture me as a boy. On and on…what a mess it was in my head and my heart. I’ll spare you the numerous stories and situations and hope you can get a sense of what a non-fun time that was.

    Let’s fast-forward. Still before I’d even learned about gender in the context of the definitions I pasted in at the start of this, I had the great fortune of opportunities that let me gain some pretty solid self-esteem (my self-esteem is another future post or two). As part of that, I kind of laid off on the self-categorisation a bit and just accepted that I was me. That didn’t change what a pain it was to interact with other humans if gender mattered, of course. But then we can fast-forward a little more to when I learned that definition of gender I pasted in. In my world, this was huge. Because here is what it meant to me:

    Unlike my sex, which was a real thing that included definable and concrete elements like breasts (small, but existent…hello, girls!) and female genitals, gender wasn’t real in a way that I felt I had to honour or allow to constrain me. It was something that changed from culture to culture, from age of time to age of time. It was made up. It had no right to mean anything more to me than any other fiction. And it was a bloody shame that someone else’s fiction impacted my daily life. That it would (and does) impact it even if I reject it as a reality, because the rest of society accepts it.

    I started using genderfluid to describe this state of mine where, sometimes, I feel “girl” because I fit the gender stereotypes of Western culture that they consider the female gender…and sometimes I feel “boy” for the parallel male gender reasons…but, mostly, I just feel “Amber.” Which is to say that I rarely think of myself as male or female in a gender way, just in a sex way. And, when I do, I remind myself that I’m buying into a fiction that, in my opinion, has done more harm than good. And then, even if my feelings or actions or appearance don’t change, I’m back to feeling “Amber” and life is better.

    Whether or not I wear makeup (which anyone who pays attention knows I feel isn’t just for females) or skirts (ditto) or pink or etc (ditto and ditto), I’m Amber. And even things like “being very emotional” or “being too logical” that are ascribed to one sex or another by way of gender roles are things I’ve seen in both sexes (and have seen both in myself). Same story with behaviours (girls are backstabbing and boys are emotionally distant…okay, have really only seen the “emotionally distant” in myself, and even that rarely…but you get my point, right?). So, I reject that stuff as actually fundamentally tied to any person just because of the genitals with which they were born. And I certainly reject it as ways to categorise myself, because I don’t fit a box and I don’t worry about fitting a box.

    thereisnogenderbox

    Here’s a short FAQ:

    Q. What’s my gender?
    A. Amber

    Q. What gender pronouns do I prefer?
    A. I don’t have a preference. As long as you aren’t trying to be insulting (cos I don’t ever prefer to be insulted), you can use female, male, or gender-neutral pronouns. I’ve happily responded to all.

    Q. Why genderfluid and not agender?
    A. Because I read the definitions and see overlap and see how both could apply, but genderfluid just feels right. And since it’s all made up anyway, I’m going to go with my feelings on this.

    Q. Do I ever cross-dress?
    A. As someone who’s female sexed, I have a lot more room to manoeuvre clothing/appearance in this society. Unless I stuffed my pants with something to make it look like I have boy parts, I can wear trousers or skirts in all sorts of styles and people likely wouldn’t assume I was dressing to fit a gender. (And I’ve only stuffed my trousers as part of a Halloween costume. Never really found myself wanting to be physiologically male…except during that day or two a month when my female parts are trying to kill me…ha!)

    Q. Is it okay if I, the reader, feel like I have a gender and want to claim a gender, request specific pronouns?
    A. Yes! I have come to where I am because this is the healthiest place for me (something I learned through both study and experimentation). If you have found another place that is your healthiest, rock that place!

    Q. Is it okay that I, the reader, think of you as female?
    A. Sure. I have the genitals that classify me as female. However, I’d appreciate you stopping short of assuming that my physical femaleness tells you anything more about me than that. It doesn’t tell you my personality, my aesthetic, my capabilities, etc. You proceed at your own risk if you try to gender me (instead of just sexing me). (And everyone pause whilst the perpetual adolescent part of me has a laugh at the ways you can interpret that last sentence.)

    We should be back to posts that follow the order of my original list next week. Thanks for being observant and noticing this out-of-order post. I’m going to go empty the rubbish, cook some dinner, and read scifi. These are all things easily encompassed in the Amber gender.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    artist's life Bowie history not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed: Bipolar

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    (Trigger warning: depression, mania)

    I think one thing that comes up when I think about a number of the labels you could apply to me is that this is my experience; I don’t know any other and so I can’t talk about things with any real understanding of how it feels not to be this. I can only look at the descriptions of what it is to be typical or of how others experience what I am and postulate from there.

    Here is what I think I want people to know when they learn that I’m bipolar:

    1. It’s okay. I’m lucky. I seem to have made it through the worst (15-19 years old were…so bad…every. single. day.) and seem to have basically stabilised at what, to me, seems like a manageable place.
    2. If I get enough sleep, enough alone time, enough non-stressed time; if I eat what my body needs and move it (you might call it “exercise,” but that’s got connotations I don’t want to cling to) the way it wants; if I don’t feel ashamed for what happens, I can manage this without medication.
      Important conclusion: People who give me rubbish about trying to get adequate sleep are basically asking me to skip my medication. If you care about me, you won’t do that. (Editing has spared you a mini-rant on the importance of sleep here. You’re welcome!)
    3. This is not something that is cured or that is fixed by just trying to be happy. Any variation on “have you tried just not being depressed” will make me want to hit you. On a related note, yes, actually, listening to that music that isn’t happy does often do me more good than happy music (because happy music can sometimes just make me feel like it’s rubbing my face in how I’m failing at being happy). And, no, honestly, going out doesn’t usually help but generally hurts (watch for the introvert post to go up for more on that). In this day and age, if you actually think that a person can stop being depressed or that depression can be solved like sadness can, you are being purposefully ignorant. Please don’t assault me with that failing of your character.
    4. Most days, I feel depression all around my periphery. But it’s not usually at a level that I’d consider worrisome, so I’ve just made my peace and I live on. Because I can have good moments and enjoy things and be happy concurrently with that. (Depression isn’t the opposite of happiness, it just overwhelms happiness sometimes.) Even with the depression lurking, I am generally a sincerely positive person. Weird, right?
    5. I definitely have swings, deeper depressions and definite manic periods. And I’m really grateful that I can find ways to give myself solitude then. Solitude is part of how I manage and heal. And you don’t want to be around during one of those deeper times. (Plus, being around others during that just drains me more and adds ugliness to it.)
    6. My deep depressions can include crying jags, not getting out of bed due to it not feeling like there’s a point (yes, even though my logical little brain can tell me that’s not the case), not getting out of bed because I feel exhausted, feeling really cold, feeling heavy (physically, mentally, emotionally), losing interest in everything, despondent thoughts, and sometimes—when it’s at its worst—I get this sensation of my skin crawling and tingling with it.
    7. My manic swings…some people experience mania in ways that let them stay up all night getting things done. I’m not saying that those are okay, but there are times I envy that a little. Cos when I get manic, it’s anger and it’s muscles clenching. I might get stuck in a repetitive behaviour (once, at uni, I realised I’d been flicking a pen up my desk and letting it roll down to my fingers and repeating over and over all through a class and it took me a lot of concentration to stop so I could walk out when class was over). I lose dexterity as my muscles tense (try typing with curled up claws of fingers…no fun!), which only adds to the anger and frustration (but, hey, at least there’s a reason other than messed up body chemistry for that added anger and frustration). And, just like with depression, it would be a bad move to ask why I’m angry (or to try to push past my reply that it’s mania). Because it’s irrational and there’s no reason. I feel very lucky that, of the two, I experience depression more than mania.

    So, all that said, whilst I’m not thrilled to be bipolar, I’m okay. The level at which I have it and generally experience it, especially these days, is so much lower than others I know or even than I used to. And, as with many things in my life, I’ve learned to manage it. And given I typed up some of this whilst in the middle of a depression swing, that’s not just rose-coloured glasses in a lull. Heh.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)


    artist's life not ashamed

  • Not Ashamed

    Posted on by amber Comment

    I’m starting a new series of posts that I’ll post here and then cross-post to another part of my site. If you want to check in on it without reading through the blog, you can go to its home page. Otherwise, on Sundays (starting tomorrow), I’ll post here and cross-post there.

    For those who want to comment, I’ve thought about it and decided that I’m going to be stricter on what sort of comments I allow on the Not Ashamed posts. I’m putting a big part of myself out there doing these posts, and I don’t feel I owe anyone additional information or explanations, nor do I have any interest in or obligation to defend myself to anyone. Thanks for your understanding!

    After making the post below on social media, it was interesting (and sometimes painful) to process how others reacted to it. It quickly became clear to me that each of us assumes a whole lot of things based on a label, a word or two, and that what we assume doesn’t necessarily overlap with what others assume or with the truth of the person to whom the label is applied. For the last few months, I’ve been thinking about creating this section of my site…A chance to spell out a little about each of the labels. Because who I am can’t be boiled down to a label or even a set of labels, and some labels need more than our culture’s new norm of 140 characters to explain.

    In spite of being a very private person in many ways, I decided to make this series of posts on my public site because I hope that others might be able to feel a little less alone in some things and/or might be able to let go of their own shame (which feels incredible). Plus, if you’re press, you can now skip asking me the same tedious questions about this and get to really interesting stuff 😉

    The posts, which I hope to make each Sunday (though Life might happen and make things early or late by a day or two), won’t all parallel each other in construction or content. But, this way, if you’re hung up on labels about me, you’ll at least have a chance to hate (or adore) me for the right reasons.

    Original post (unedited):

    I am about to list some things about me. Some are about me now; some are about past me.

    Please don’t comment unless you’ve read this whole post. 🙂

    Some of you will think some of these are scandalous or horrible, but see no problem with others.
    Others of you will have the same reactions but to different words.

    I am posting these because (and this is the point) I AM NOT ASHAMED OF WHO I AM OR HAVE BEEN. And that is awesome! 😀

    Please do not comment to tell me I am brave to post these things. I am not braved; I am unashamed. 🙂

    Please do not comment to tell me it’s okay that I am one or more of these things. You don’t need to tell me that; I am unashamed. 😉

    Please don’t post to tell me I ought to be ashamed. I will just delete your comment. I am unashamed. I did not arrive here, in many cases, without much examination/pondering/prayer.

    Please don’t post to argue politics/religion/beliefs with me. I’m not interested. I will delete such comments (or comments that bash any of what I’ve listed). I have probably done you that same courtesy when you’ve made posts that are the opposite of my current politics/religion/etc.

    I’m posting this because I have had a number of situations lately where people have comforted me about some trait when I didn’t need comfort, and I know the intentions are good, but it starts to feel like something negative.

    This is not aimed at any one person. If you choose to assume this is a lie, you do both me and you a disservice 🙂

    Please don’t post apologies. I have just been assuming you meant well 🙂

    For future reference, unless you can hear me speaking and my tone is clearly despondent or I straight-forwardly express concern, please feel free to assume that I am unashamed and okay 🙂

    (See the smilies up there? That means this is not an angry post. Please don’t take it as such.)

    Please don’t assume you have to like everything about me to generally like me, love me, be my friend, be my family. You don’t. Nobody likes literally everything about any other person.

    Please don’t assume I judge you if you are some of these things and are ashamed. Shame is a personal thing. Just as I’ll appreciate you not projecting your shame onto me, I won’t think ill of you if you carry shame of your own.

    Also, I’m not endorsing everything on this list or saying that it’s awesome to be this or that others should try it. Some, sure. Others, nope. And many…they just are what they are and there’s no judgement.

    Every one of them is something that someone has, in one way or another, expressed that I should be ashamed of.

    (Also, if you are the kind of person who reads lists like these and finds them reasons to judge my parents, friends, teachers…unfriend me. I’m very, very serious. There is no blame or responsibility for them to carry and I dislike you on principle if you think otherwise.)

    But I am not ashamed of who I am or have been. Even choices that weren’t great, whether in fashion or in action, are part of the path to having become who I am. (And you might have caught on that I am a fan of who I am….heh!)

    I make, in general, good choices these days. I take care of myself and my people. I am kind, pretty, talented, intelligent, funny, and a load of other things that make me madly love me. I strive daily to be closer to my best self, to live a life that spreads love and light. And I fail daily, but I keep trying. I might not be everyone’s cup of tea (and maybe even less so for some of you after you read this list), and I am okay with that. I’d drink me!

    So, here are labels you could apply to me now or in the past (don’t worry; the ones that are dangerous to my health are either in the past or under control now…please don’t post concern) (also, these are posted in no particular order, so please don’t try to read import into the order):

    • Bipolar
    • The kind of depressed that’s not physiologically caused
    • Anorexic
    • Autistic
    • Bisexual
    • A geek
    • A nerd
    • Pale
    • A night owl
    • Fiscally and socially liberal
    • A self-hater
    • My own biggest fan
    • A daydreamer
    • A rock musician
    • Genderfluid
    • Ambitiously in pursuit of my dreams
    • A writer of scifi
    • An introvert
    • Reclusive (no, seriously…I need hours of alone time daily–sleep and work time don’t count…I never get lonely…I can go weeks with only digital human contact…I can even go days with no contact at all before curiosity about some friend or other has me sending a note or looking at Facebook…I don’t fear leaving the flat, but I’d generally prefer not to…)
    • Apparently very selective in my friendships
    • Ridiculously musically eclectic
    • Devoutly Mormon
    • A friend to multiple people who dislike each other
    • Suicidal (which does not mean the next label is a given)
    • Self harming (which, no, is not a necessarily the same thing as suicidal)
    • Victimised by a sexual predator
    • Violently angry
    • A pacifist
    • Unconcerned with acting my age
    • Verbose (yeah, you probably noticed that)
    • Precocious
    • Intense
    • Silly
    • A gamer (and not just video games…tabletop…online RPG…LARP–which I’d do all caps even if it weren’t an acronym because I know that’s the one I’m most likely to get scorned for…)
    • Serious
    • Pro-life and pro-choice (which is to say that I can’t see–aside from a very tiny list of reasons–choosing abortion for myself, but that I support every woman’s right to make her own choices)
    • Vegetarian (I did this for years…it’s complicated…)
    • Related: For various health reasons, I also tried paleo, gluten-free, dairy-free, absolutely no sugar, and a few others
    • Related: I eat sugar and meat and simple carbs and dairy
    • Sober
    • Goth
    • Punk
    • Not goth
    • Not punk
    • A regular patron of loud dance clubs and quiet bars
    • Celibate
    • Feminist
    • Poor
    • Sometimes, briefly, a little bit well-off
    • And there are a few physical illness/pain issues that don’t allow me to do everything everyone, including me, wants or thinks I should do and I might not like it but that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed

    There are others, but you get the point. (Or I hope you do, because even I am tired of the list.)

    TL;DR (for older readers, that means “too long; didn’t read”): I am or have been a lot of things various people think I should be ashamed of. I am not ashamed. Please do not tell me I am brave or console me unless I ask. It is okay to like me without liking everything about me. I expect that’s the case. Thanks 😀


    artist's life history not ashamed

  • In-Equidistance

    Posted on by amber Comment

    Today is not the day I write an essay about the distance that often comes from being an artist. From being a musician. Or the way that the intense emotions that seem so prevalent in artists can make it hard to get enough distance. And how it’s all a blessing and a curse. But it is the day I make you a playlist about distance.

    This last year, I’ve been thinking about distance quite a bit (the positive, the negative, or just the neutral facts). Being close, being far, wanting things to be other than they are or thinking they are just right, the physical/mental/emotional, distance from/closeness to self and others. I made myself multiple playlists about that during the year (because I do so love to make playlists). So I thought I’d make a short, moody distance playlist for you as well (with a made-up-ish word* for its title). After all, distance is something we have in common…

    (Yes, I left out some good songs to keep this shorter. The first draft was enormous. I was trying to fit in all my distance thoughts… And some of the distance is in the way the song feels when I listen. So just close your eyes and feel it with me.)

    in-equidistance from amberrockstar on 8tracks Radio.

    in-equidistance
    1. SQÃœRL- Spooky Action at a Distance
    2. I Am Kloot – Even the Stars
    3. He Is A Pegasus – Fin
    4. Radiohead – A Reminder
    5. His Name Is Alive – Are You Coming Down This Weekend?
    6. Placebo – Drink You Pretty
    7. The National – I Need My Girl
    8. Ash – Lost In You
    9. Emmy the Great – Paper Forest (Birds)
    10. James Dean Bradfield – Don’t Look Back
    11. Death Cab for Cutie – Transatlanticism
    12. Baxter – I Can’t See Why
    13. Bj̦rk РUnravel
    14. Shriekback – (Open Up Your) Filthy Heart (To Me)
    15. Editors – Let Your Good Heart Lead You Home
    16. David Bowie – Where Are We Now?
    17. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – The Ship Song
    18. Manic Street Preachers – Solitude Sometimes Is
    19. The Joy Formidable – Silent Treatment
    20. Placebo – H.K. Farewell

    EDIT 2014-12-29: After yesterday’s all audio playlist, I got an itch to make a video playlist. I love video, and I love what it can add to the experience of the music. For this playlist, the only real theme is that I thought of a video and could find that video online. Honestly, I was baffled at how hard it was to find certain videos…Anyway, I gave myself a very short while to brainstorm and add videos to a list, and then I went through and kept the ones that felt somehow coherent, narrowing it down from about a billion… (Not sure why most are older…) This time, don’t close your eyes.

    Stars in Your Eyes
    1. Daphne Guinness: Evening in Space
    2. David Bowie: Life on Mars?
    3. Placebo: This Picture
    4. Ash: Shining Light
    5. Siouxsie and the Banshees: The Passenger
    6. Placebo: Slave to the Wage
    7.Manic Street Preachers: Love’s Sweet Exile
    8. Duran Duran: Electric Barbarella
    9. David Bowie: Ashes to Ashes
    10. Placebo: Taste In Men
    11. IAMX: Missile
    12. Garbage: Androgyny
    13. Ash: Girl From Mars (UK vid)
    14. Siouxsie and the Banshees: Face to Face
    15. Björk: All Is Full of Love
    16. Manic Street Preachers: Stay Beautiful
    17. Placebo: Bruise Pristine
    18. David Bowie: The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

    *Things that are equidistant are the same distance from a common point. Equidistance is that equal distance. “Equi” means equal. And you know what distance is, what it is to be distance. “In” is either a preposition concerning location or is a negating prefix. All of this comes together in my head, suggesting many possible meanings to the title…Art is one of the few places I can enjoy ambiguity…


    artist's life Bowie playlists pondering