Good morning, Readers!

So I had an interesting experience yesterday on my wall.

I posted a video of Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's speech to the UN, slamming the use of fear as a political tactic.  This is the video, in case you're interested.

Now, I'm not all that impressed with our Prime Minister.  There are a number of things, particularly environmental and the issue of Canadian First Nation's rights, in which I disagree with our Prime Minister.

For the record, I'm quiet leftist for Canadian politics, which would put me so far left I'm off the scale in the United States.

That said, there are some times when the Prime Minister and I are in complete agreement.  The video I shared happened to be one of those things.

Now, I have a one guy who has liked my page who is quite right wing.  He'd probably be right centre in America, but for Canada, that's really pretty far on the right side of the spectrum.  He was not the problem.  His disagreement was very civil.

His mates, however...

There was this one guy who replied to agree with something someone else said.  Then he commented again and went on a bizarre, unhinged tirade about the "vile and filthy left" something, something "climate alarmists taking away our freedoms" something, something, something.

Then he replied a third time, letting me know that he believed that Mr. Trudeau was not right.  In fact, he was not right about anything.

Honestly, I wish I had gotten a screenshot of that little rant.  It was, of course, all emotion and not a lick of fact, but that's what it's like being on the extreme edge - right or left (yes, fellow lefties, we have them too).  But you know, I'm alright with that.  You're the one making an ass of yourself.  Go right ahead.

What I'm not alright with is the name calling, or threats of violence.  Those comments will be deleted.  Repeat offenders will be banned.  Why?  Because it's my wall, fuckers, and that means my rules.

CENSORSHIP! you scream.

I mean, yes, I suppose.

In this case, I deleted the rambling, nonsensical comment full of name-calling.  His other posts, however, which did not resort to ad hominem attacks on a broad swath of people (and common fucking sense, but I digress), were left up; his agreement with someone else who disagreed with me, and his flat-out statement of disagreement remained.

Why?  Because you're allowed to disagree with me.  I don't take issue with that.  I might take issue with your reasoning.  I'll probably refute you, argue with you, tell you that I think you're very wrong.  But you are still welcome to disagree with me, as long as you keep it civil.  Because we're fucking civilised.  Mostly.

Here's the thing, society works because we have an agreement of a baseline respect for one another.  The minute that goes, then society crumbles.  I mean, some people want that.  They want to watch society dissolve.  Again, I digress.

As a society, we must decide what is acceptable and what is not.  And if we decide something is not acceptable, we must enforce that, stringently.  To me, name calling and threats of violence are not acceptable (I'll talk about how I feel about actual violence at a later date).  And I will enforce that.  Stringently.

Your right to say whatever the fuck you want does not supersede the rights of your fellow followers to feel safe and included on my page.  If that pains you, might a suggest a long period of introspection?

Right, I have writing to get done.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

I am sad today.

I'm shaken.

Last night in Quebec, four people were murdered in an attack on a mosque.

I... I'm so heartbroken.

This is not the Canada I fell in love with.  The Canada I fell in love with is kind, warm, compassionate.  They shovel your driveway after a big snowfall if they know you cannot.  Their humour is understated; sly and sarcastic.  Though not always.  Sometimes it's extremely silly.  They're open and honest.

But Canada is not without her problems or her prejudices.  Just as any of her First Nations people.

Sunday night, the ugly underside of Canada, the one few ever want to even acknowledge exists, let alone address, reared it's ugly head.

Now people are dead.

Here's the thing, Canada, we cannot blame this on our southerly neighbours.  This is on us.  This blood stains our hands.  Those deaths are our fault.

We need to acknowledge our darker side.  We need to recognise that there is an undercurrent of xenophobia beneath Canada's pleasant exterior.  We need to acknowledge it, and we need to resist it.  When people use racist slurs, call them out.  It is not acceptable.  When people talk privately to you and they say racist things, call them out.  It is not acceptable.  Do not provide a safe space for them to speak their views.  Their views are not legitimate.  They are not acceptable.  Make it known.

Sure, it might only be a few people causing this problem, but a few is a few too many.  We need to stand up.  We need to stand together.  Or more people are going to die.

And that will be on us, too.

Do better, Canada.  I know you are better than this.

Some things do give me hope.  Here are a couple of quotes that lifted my heart following the murders in Quebec City:

And:

Tonight there are vigils planned in Quebec City, Montréal and Ottawa.  I will be attending the Ottawa vigil.  I think it's important to show solidarity in these times.

It's likely that my Monday live stream will be happening later than usual.  I'll let you know via my various social media the hour before when that'll happen.  Probably around 8:00pm or so.

So, Canada.  We have a choice.  It's a choice that never fades, even when you've made it.  You must make it again and again.

That choice is what kind of country we want to be, what kind of people we want to be.

Choose well, Canada.

​History will remember it.

Good morning, Readers!

Last night was a mixed bag.  I finished my daily two thousand words at the end of the day (this is for the main work in progress Outworlder (Avalon, Book One)).  I still haven't written the death my brain came up with Tuesday.  So naturally, my brain played it on repeat all the ride home.  And it made me cry.  It's a sad scene, and I like the character that died (or will) a great deal.

So, there I was, sitting on the bus, staring out the window, hoping no one would notice that my own brain was making me an emotional wreck.

I hate my brain.

Once I got myself together, I laughed at myself.  On the bus.  It occurred to me in that moment that I must have looked like the most unstable local mental hospital escapee ever.  I was wearing a pretty coat, though.  That might have made me look a little less insane.

Gods, writers are weird.

I think that I might get to writing the actual death today, or at least be super close.  I hope I manage to write the death, because otherwise I have a full weekend of having that scene play in my head on a loop.  No, thank you.

In other news, today is Australia Day.

I used to celebrate it, being Australian and all.  But I've changed.  You see, January 26th is the day the first of the British fleets landed.

What's the big deal?

Well, like most places Britain landed, it started hundreds of years of genocide, resulting in the tragic loss of lives, languages and cultures.  It's a day of mourning for Indigenous Australians and Torres Straight Islanders.

I don't find what happened in Australia to be worthy of celebrating.

The country certainly is worth celebrating.  It has its problems, but it's a beautiful country full of wonderful people.

We could celebrate it any day of the year.  Why, in 1935 (with wide adoption in 1994), did we choose the day that began generations of heinous acts?

So, I will celebrate Australia, but not today.  Today I give space to my Indigenous brothers and sisters to mourn.  It's Invasion Day.  It's Survival.

Now, I'm all in favour of this suggestion.  It made me smile.  So, let's change the date, Australia.

And now I go to write.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I hope you're well this morning.  I am much improved since Monday.  I still have a horrible cough, but it comes less frequently, and I'm actually able to breathe now.

With this increasingly better health, I've had much more energy, which is good, because it helps me work really hard at training.  If I keep improving then I'll be back to my early morning at the gym workouts soon.  I'm actually looking forward to that.  I'm also looking forward to February, when the no-swim rule because of my new tattoo is lifted.  I'll be in the pool in the mornings three days a week, and that makes me happy.

Also nervous, because it's been years since I've done any serious swimming.  I expect to be really shit at first.

Fingers crossed I won't drown.

First though, I need this cough to go away.  That would be lovely.

So far this week I've been on track with my writing goals.  That's a pretty big deal because I've failed so badly the previous weeks.  However, something unexpected happened while writing yesterday.  My brain, or the story that is currently controlling my brain (the jury's out on who is really in charge here), killed a character.  I rather liked this character, and I honestly thought, when the story started, that he'd be around the whole story.

NOPE

I actually haven't written the death yet.  That scene is still in progress.  That means my arsehole brain is playing the scene over and over in my head.  I've watched this character die quite a lot now.  I've listened to his last words.  I've seen another character emotionally shut down before completely breaking down.  I've seen so many people weeping.

Over and over and over.

I hate my brain.

That what my brain does.  When a scene forms there, it plays on repeat until it comes out of my fingers, either into my computer or onto a page.

Honestly, if I wasn't writing, I'm pretty sure that I'd go absolutely stark raving mad.

Is there anything that your brain does that you really hate?  I can't be the only one!  Let me know in the comments.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Welcome to the Orwellian nightmare we've all been fearing, folks.

In this new world, your own government will tell you outright, easily debunked lies and expect you to believe them just because they said it.  They'll call them alternative facts.  

Since that's the case, I thought I'd sell you a few of my own alternative facts.  Now, these are only alternative facts currently.  I sincerely do hope that one day some of these might be actual facts.

• The government has your best interests at heart
• I am a multi-award winning author
• I am a best-selling author
• I'm the best author, everyone says it. I'm the best. The brightest. Believe me. (If you didn't read that in a Trump voice, I am disappointed in you)
• I am the most read author in the history of authors. (okay, so this is really reaching)
• I have made appearances on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (huge fan, Mr. Colbert)
• I am a highly sought after special guest for a large number of conventions
• I have a large property with horses
• I have a wonderful charity creating green housing for underprivileged communities
• I run a very successful LARPing company

That's about all the alternative facts I can come up with.  What about you?  What do you sorely wish was true for your vainglorious reasons, but isn't?  Leave your alternative facts below, and let us all have a good chuckle.

Honestly, it's laugh or cry at this point, and I'm all out of tears.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Friday I wept.

I grieved for my American friends, who, it feels, lost so much that day.  I wept for my American sisters, who have endured a long hard war against them and who, yesterday, had suffered a grave defeat.  I mourned for the Muslims of America, who now face the prospect of a registry not at all unlike that the preceded the holocaust in Germany.  I grieved for the children, the fathers and sons, mothers and daughters who will, almost overnight, lose their chance at a full life with the repeal of life-saving health care insurance.  I even sobbed for those poor fools who voted for the party that will strip them of everything.

I wept for the world, who may well not survive the next four years without a global war.

Saturday changed me.

Saturday, I was uplifted.  I was inspired.  I was happy.  I was hopeful.

Things are not good.  I literally just read a Twitter thread that noted that the new administration has deleted an article that is 6years old.  The article was talking about America's role in the UN.  I'm not joking.  Click the link.  Read the thread.

Things are going to get really, really bad, I am convinced.  This "alternative facts" nonsense scares me.  That people are willing to accept that rubbish terrifies me.  The stripping of healthcare and a large number of policies designed to keep people so poor that they have no time or energy left for healthy democracy or resistance to tyranny upsets me.

We are in for a rough time.

But Saturday showed me that people are not taking that lying down.  They're willing to march.  It's not much, but it's something.  And it's something I hope will carry forward when the fighting gets rough.  And it will get rough.

I hope that the belligerence and incredulousness and bloody-mindedness carries over.  We'll need it.

But after Saturday, I believe it can be done.

Look for the light.  When times get dark, you will always find flashes of light.  If you cannot see it, become it.

We will need you.

Good luck, America.  Good luck, World.  I'm here with you.

Ciao.

Good morning, Readers.

Well, this sucks.  I just finished writing today's blog post, and then it failed to save, so now I have to write it all again... except I don't feel like writing it all again, so here's the gist:

I'm sick, again, this time with a chest cold.

The first day back at training kickboxing and kung fu was last night.  It was also my first day back at weight training.  It was shit, as you can imagine.  But the prospect of failing so hard at weight training paled in comparison to how little I was able to breathe.

Needless to say, I survived all three hours, with a great deal of help from the Fisherman's Friends my always prepared kung fu sister had on her (thanks, Caroline!), even if only barely.  The weight training was as shit as you can imagine, though not as awful as I thought it would be.  I also didn't lose much kicking speed during kickboxing, which was great.  My stamina needs a lot of work, though.  Maybe it was because MY LUNGS ARE ENTIRELY COATED IN MUCUS and I couldn't breathe, though I'm pretty sure the whole did three days of cardio in the month I had off training didn't help...

I hate chest colds.  The coughing is painful.  Being unable to breathe sucks.

More than that, though, I'm quite concerned with the frequency with which I've been getting ill.  Certainly there are environmental factors.  The weather is all over the map with some very cold days followed by stupidly warm ones, snow and sun and freezing rain, sometimes all in one day.

It couldn't have helped that I changed my sleep schedule to accommodate a morning workout, waking at 5:30 now so I can get in a 45min workout before I head off to my job.  So far I've managed it a whopping three times, largely because I started just after my fever broke from my flu, but I was not quite fully recovered.  Then the chest cold hit and I haven't been able to go since.

I'm hoping this passes soon and I can settle into a proper schedule.

Until then, all I want to do is sleep.  Sleep and stop this coughing oh my god I think I've torn my lung.

On that note, I'm off to attempt to write.

​Ciao!