Rachel in the OC | Come for the Mancode, Stay for the SnarkRachel in the OC

WAIT. I’M A ROCK STAR? #OCSMS

Published May 16, 2012

According to the fabulous spitfire that is @RochelleVeturis, I’m a rock star.

If I'm gonna be a rock star, might as well be Shirley Manson

Let me explain.

Here in the OC (aka Orange County, CA, home of Disneyland, blondes, tans, fake boobery, and the largest concentration of plastic surgeons in North America), I’m a redhead in a sea of blondes. One who makes her living by writing, ya know, words. Reading them, too. And I help other people all over the world do the same. Most of the time, they pay me for it. Lots of times, I offer free help (my blogs and Twitter streams). That’s always been my goal.

Many of you may know me as @RachelintheOC, author. Others know me as @BadRedheadMedia, social media consultant and branding/marketing chick. Others, as the one who recently started affordable indie author advertising sites @indiebookpromos and @bkpromocentral. Regardless, my goal is and has always been to write and sell my own books, build my social media and author platform, and help others learn to do the same.

Rochelle is a PR and social media rock star. One of my social media mentors, Sean Gardner aka @2morrowKnight, introduced us way back in oh, 2009, when I was a little grasshopper finding my way around the Twitter landscape. Rochelle was kind enough to follow me, retweet me, and introduce me to some heavy hitters here in the OC. I’ll always be forever grateful for her kindness and advice.

As I built up my own targeted following, she and I have kept in touch, inviting each other to various events, keeping one another apprised of various big life moments (her marriage! To a super guy), my books and new business; always supportive, yet never quite able to hook up.

And yet now, here we are, meeting on Friday at the #OCSMS, the first official social media brainchild of Rochelle and her two equally amazing sisters, Chelsey and Haley, aka the OC Triumvirate, with over 700+ attendees expected, six keynote speakers, twelve panelists, and some rock stars.

Okay, who are the rock stars? Not actual ‘rock stars’ though I did hear singing when I attended the photo shoot the other night. (So, okay yea, we met already. Cheating!) Oh, what photo shoot you ask? One Rochelle was kind enough to ask me to come to. She wanted a few of us not keynoting or paneling to come and have professional shots taken, where we offer our top social media tips along with our faces to run on the screen background throughout the day. (Fortunately, I wore makeup so I wouldn’t scare people.)

Now come on — who’s the rock star here?

If you’re in the OC area, I urge you to register for the event via Eventbrite. I have the registration form over there —->>>>. It’s FREE! The speakers are all amazing, accomplished, and want to share their tips for success with you. I can’t wait for my brain to be full of excellent mush with all the stuff I’m gonna learn. (Location: The Refinery, Saddleback Church, Lake Forest, CA).

If you can’t attend, search on the Twitter hashtag #OCSMS Friday, all day for info and tips. I’ll be live tweeting.

So will about 700 others.

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RachelintheOC

Rachel Thompson aka RachelintheOC is a published author and social media consultant. Her two books, A Walk In The Snark and The Mancode: Exposed are both #1 Kindle bestsellers! When not writing, she helps authors and other professionals with branding and social media for her company, BadRedhead Media. She hates walks in the rain, running out of coffee, and coconut. Buy Now : A Walk in the Snark * Mancode: Exposed

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Poignancy Alert: Maxwell Cynn on Mother’s Day and Cancer

Published May 13, 2012

Poignancy Alert: Maxwell Cynn on
Mother’s Day and Cancer

Our son has leukemia.

Leukemia incites images of beautiful children, their hair gone, their eyes dark and sunken – or old men dying in hospital beds. But modern treatment has turned the tide on the battle against leukemia. It is no longer an absolute death sentence, yet the treatment is still quite intense. The National Comprehensive Cancer Network (NCCN) characterizes treatment of leukemia as “…one of the most complex and difficult of all cancers.”

Generous donations to the Leukemiaand Lymphoma Society and extensive research has greatly improved outcomes for childhood leukemia patients and given hope to those with adult forms of the disease, yet patients between fifteen and thirty have seen the least improvement.

There are many factors involved in the difficulties of treating young adults with cancer. These are not small children under the constant care of loving parents or older adults with established resources and strong support networks. This is the face of young adult leukemia…

Video: Life Interrupted

Our son Joshua is twenty-one years old. The last few years he’s lived on his own in an apartment a hundred miles away from home, pursuing a degree in philosophy at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. He isn’t our little baby anymore. Joshua is a brilliant young man, proud and independent. But Joshua has Acute T-Cell Lymphoblastic Leukemia.

Joshua Rockin’ the Chemo

Joshua returned home and is in treatment at Presbyterian Hospital’s Blume Pediatric Hematology andOncology Clinic. He is participating in an international clinical trial sponsored by Children’s Oncology Group. Research has found that young adult patients show better outcomes when treated under more aggressive pediatric protocols. Adding insult to injury, Joshua is not only living with his parents, he’s being treated in a children’s clinic with toys and miniature chairs in the waiting room and Disney band-aids for his boo-boos.

Young adults, like our son, are in a strange form of limbo. Joshua is an adult. He must sign all necessary release forms and the bills for his treatment come to him, yet because of the debilitating nature of his disease he is often completely dependent on his parents. Most of that care falls securely on the shoulders of his mother. Not to be sexist, but my part in the battle often involves financial and logistical concerns while my wife stands as Joshua’s primary care giver.

My wife and I both have stable careers, with a good deal of flexibility earned through decades of service. My wife’s career is more flexible, allowing her to work nights and weekends so she is available to shuttle Joshua to his outpatient treatments, or be with him in the hospital, while I work the day-job. I’m an hourly wage-slave, so no-work-no-pay. My wife is salaried. But let’s be real, mothers rock! If you’re sick you want your mama not your dad.

My wife is amazing traversing the minefield of caring for a strong-willed, independent man-child. She manages his multitude of medications, his constantly changing schedule of doctor appointments, and all his physical needs with patience, perseverance, and poise – even when he is being a bull-headed young man. Of course there are conflicts. Joshua is very independent. But his mother gently, or sternly, keeps his treatment and our lives on track.

This is the woman who carried Joshua for nine months in her belly, home-schooled him until he was sixteen, and is again carrying him through months of chemotherapy as securely as she nurtured him in her womb. He kicks once in awhile, and she gets moody, but there has never been a stronger, more loving bond between mother and child. We are all in this fight together, but mother and child are connected in a way that defies description.

One of the things that struck me in the video I posted above is Suleika Jaouad’s mother. Watch the video and keep your eyes on her as Suleika undergoes treatment. Her eyes reveal a mother’s suffering as she sits on the side, supporting her child without “interfering” in a young adult’s independence. It is, perhaps, the most difficult position a mother can ever endure – traversing that minefield of caring for a young adult with cancer.I see that look in my wife’s eyes and my heart bleeds.

God Bless Mothers.

* * *

While I’m here hogging Rachel’s blog, the Bad Redhead is over at Indies Unite for Joshua on a video supporting my son’s battle. Hop over there and say hello. If you can donate to the campaign, there are a multitude of gifts, supplied by my fellow Indies, ranging from books to various services. If you can’t donate financially, please share the campaign with your friends through Facebook, Twitter, Google+ or any of the social networks you participate in.

Thank you for reading.

xoxox

max

UPDATE to #IndiesUnite4Joshua ~ The Final Push to $10,000 (edenbaylee.wordpress.com)
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CHINA DOLL

Published May 6, 2012

I wrote this essay during a difficult time, but it helped shape me as a person, and as a woman.

Hopefully, what you’ve come to expect from me as a nonfiction writer is honesty, regardless of topic. What follows is an excerpt from my upcoming book due out soon, Broken Pieces.

China Doll

I felt the storm break in my heart.

Maybe I knew he was gone before I got the call; perhaps even before he left.

I can admit that now.

His words were strewn with dissatisfaction, regret. I thought, initially, he was simply reconnecting to apologize for us; for all those years of burden he carried for the hurt in my heart. I knew he hoped for more. But I didn’t know how to carry more, where to hold more in my neatly ordered life.

I had no more in me.

I could feel the storm, in his words. He had lost so much: beloved but lost mother, best friend, hated father, his best friend’s father who had basically raised him. So many deaths. The drinking had ruined him; his marriage, his relationship with his young son. He’d lost his job, his truck, his home. I knew some of this, of course. I would find out the full damage later, though.

After.

He only told me bits and pieces. His language so spare, almost as if he had created his own. I gleaned as much as I could from every conversation, trying to understand unspoken words, breaths held.

If only I had read between his lines. Would I have known?

If I had closed my eyes, would I have felt his words, not just seen them?

I could feel his anger through the words; yet also his desire, his love. See who I am now! he would shout at me in his missives. I’m not that man anymore who would hurt you.

You’re my china doll, baby.

He carried me for twenty years, taking me out, looking at me before putting me back on his shelf. Who he thought I was. Not realizing I’d become a different person. A doll who didn’t break quite so easily. He forgot he used to call me “handful” for good reason.

The mind warps what time can’t forget.

I forgave him the hurt he caused me. Excuses all, but it has to be enough.

It’s easier to forgive him for cheating on me than for taking his own life. That will take some time.

Time won’t let me forget.

I don’t know that I can forgive time for that.

Those who love me then hated him. They are glad he’s gone. They are afraid I’m glorifying him in some way. I know they say this out of love, worry, protection.

I tell them not to. I know he hurt me. Remember, I left him. But I’m a big girl. It’s okay for me to write about him; stories, essays, and poetry. This is what I do.

I’m allowed to forgive him.

It’s my life, my choice, my heart. MY grief.

I’m not his doll. I’m not anyone’s doll.

Then again, I’m not the one who broke.

I appreciate your comments, thoughts, and all the rest.

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AUTHOR INSPIRATION: GUEST POST WITH JESSICA KRISTIE

Published May 3, 2012

I’m so pleased to have author and poet Jessica Kristie back here today. For those unfamiliar with her honest, beautiful poetry, you are missing out. I’m always fascinated by my author friends’ writing lives. Here’s a wonderful peek into Jess’ mind. Please read and check out her books and her latest work, designed to help the writer in all of us.

You’ve heard it a million times, I write because I need to. In most cases this is not an embellishment. There is a need in dispelling the emotions, especially the intense ones.

I have this sort-of dueling personality that I know Rachel loves. I vomit rainbows and butterflies and beg the world to forgive, let go, and move on. This is at the core of me. Yet, inside my books you will find that darkness and grief reveal itself time and time again. Here is where the proof lies in regards to the need for me. I take on the world and I do it happily. I am the go-to girl for the listening ear, and I love it. This has been me since I was in Junior High. I told my mother I wanted to be a therapist and she told me I couldn’t handle it. I would take everything home with me, and she was right.

One thing I pride myself with, and feel is unique in my writing process, is that I can slide right into another’s shoes. Even when I write first-person, it is not always about me. My recent collection, Threads of Life, follows a series of bad relationships and touches on the issues of physical abuse. There is a toxicity that flows through the pages which is eventually expelled, and forgiveness is found. Although I am not a complete stranger to physical or mental abuse, these stories are not about me. They came from you. I am so touched by others’ journeys that I take them in, feel them deeply and let them back out. My writing helps me to bring on the world’s grief and release it in a healthy way.

Writers are an amazing group of people; imaginative, witty and resilient. I admire what people are able to lay out for the world to read. I am in awe of the creativeness that is in so many. This is where my rose-colored vomit and excessive hearts come into play. We are so consumed by our disparaging moments that we forget to find the joy in the everyday things. Not to mention the wonder in the inspiring people around us. I spend enough time playing into the sadness through my poetry that I am going to find happiness in passing on some joy on a day-to-day basis. This has blessed me in more ways than I can say. I think I live a healthier life not living inside a bubble of constant brooding emotions.

Don’t be selfish with your joy, your hope, or your magic. Share it with the world. ♥

Working with the wonderful authors and writers that I do has called me to write this small offering to the creative world. We all seem to share so many of the same joys and disappointments, and I wanted to give an extra tool that will inspire you to keep going and do it in a healthy way.

Book Blurb:

Writers and creators can often face a rollercoaster of emotions that build unnecessary barriers to the artistic flow. Weekly Inspirations for Writers & Creators contains fifty-two topics followed by affirmations and writing prompts, tips and inspiring activities to engage and build confidence. Each week you will have an idea to focus on and a small task to complete that help you in your journey to overcome, and keep creating.

Jessica Kristie is the author of several poetry books, and the co-creator for the ArtPlatform book Inspiration Speaks Volume 1 which is now available in print and eBook through all major retailers, and benefits ColaLife.org. She is also the founder of the Woodland, CA, poetry series, Inspiring Words—Poetry in Woodland.

Dreaming in Darkness is Jessica’s first volume of poetry; the winner of the 2011 Sharp Writ Award and nominated for a 2011 Pushcart Prize. Jessica’s second book, Threads of Life, is available through Winter Goose Publishing along with her eBook offering to writers, Weekly Inspirations for Writers & Creators.

Jessica has been published in several online and print magazines such as Zouch, Muse, A Writer’s Point of View and TwitArt Magazine. You can find all of Jessica’s appearances under her Press Page at JessicaKristie.com.

Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, Jessica Kristie discovered her passion for writing as a child. Her inspiration comes in many forms, often inspired by just a word or quickly fleeting emotion. Through years of writing she has been able to capitalize on her experiences, whether they are painful or joyous. She hopes to draw you close to her world through shared emotion while inspiring you to forgive, remember, and heal.

Follow Jessica:

Jessicakristie.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/JessKristie

Twitter: @jesskristie

Dreaming in Darkness by Jessica Kristie (edenbaylee.wordpress.com)
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I AM NOT A COW. ARE YOU?

Published April 29, 2012

I AM NOT A COW. ARE YOU?

I speak Mancode. I do Chickspeak.

I don’t however, speak Cowcode.

Let me explain.

In my first book, A Walk In The Snark, and in my upcoming nonfiction collection of essays, Broken Pieces, I discuss love, loss, fear, connections, grief, and even death.

Some people are quite moved by the few (four or five) essays I included in that first collection about the death by suicide of my ex-love, D. He contacted me as I was putting the book together after twenty-five or so years apart. Married for almost eighteen years (at the time), I was surprised to hear from him.

Three months after that initial contact, he shot himself.

As a writer, I poured my shock and grief into my writing. Many folks have contacted me with their own stories and the experience has been incredibly heartbreaking and moving for me. I’m honored by the friendships, support, and trust.

Others have attempted to crucify me for my honesty.

I say attempted because well, A) I don’t take it personally and B) life’s too damn short to let others hang their shit on me. Here’s how I look at it:

I am not a cow.

You see, I’m not a piece of meat my guy and D had to barter or trade for. There were no rules to the game for them to discuss before D was “allowed” access to me.

I am an adult. I am a woman. Being married does not, in this country, mean I am owned. A noun means a “person, place or thing” (despite my older sister’s protestation that I was indeed a ‘thing’ when she was in the first grade. Oh, and for the record, she has now upgraded me to person, I’m happy to report.).

Does that make me an ‘it,’ who needs permission, who must ask her owner to talk to an old flame about her past?

The entire concept is udderly (sorry, had to) foreign to me.

By reconnected, I mean we spoke, online. After many years apart, he contacted me, asking for forgiveness.

Yes.

A chance?

No.

(Of course, I was courteous and respectful of my guy who encouraged me to have these conversations with D since so much was unresolved with us for so many years).

I consider it a gift from the universe that 1) my guy is so awesome – der, why else would I still be with him? 2) that D contacted me at all since so much was unsettled between us for so long, and 3) that we talked about everything we did before he took his life.

Who gets to do that?

Somehow, and try to stay with me here, I am fully capable of having a conversation with another man without it signifying anything more than…I’m having a conversation with another man.

I’ll let you think about that.

Even…if it’s a man I once loved. Or a man I once had orgasms with. This seems to FREAK PEOPLE OUT. But guess what? Somehow, I was able to control my hormonal female urges and talk to the guy without getting on the first plane out and fucking him.

Imagine that.

The negativity and judgmental statements regarding my honesty about this experience shows how very threatening and upsetting to people (go read the reviews sometime) my transparency about this experience is.

Which I dig, by the way. Any emotion I evoke in people rocks my world, so thank you, any and all reader reviewers. I appreciate the time you took to read my little bookie wookie.

I’m okay with writing even more about my experience with D because it was a huge gift. And if that upsets people, excellent. More people to piss off.

Most people who end their relationships abruptly, for whatever reasons, carry that pain around for years. As I did. And now I don’t. It’s so beautifully simple.

I took this gift, without anyone’s permission. Because I’m an adult who makes decisions for herself.

I have that now. A healing. All wrapped up in a neat little package, tied with a red bow inside my heart.

Moo.

(Too angry? I don’t want to be angry.)

I welcome your comments below.

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AND THE OSCAR GOES TO…

Published April 22, 2012

Have you heard of author Gabe Berman yet? You have now. And you certainly will hear more soon.

Endorsed by Deepak Chopra for his sweetly funny and insightful take on life titled Live Like A Fruit Fly: The Secret You Already Know, Gabe’s book, published by those sly ‘Chicken Soup For The Soul’ folks, is sure to be a bestseller. I read it and loved it (and you know how much of a jaded snarky bitch I am).

I loved Gabe’s book because it’s not preachy or religious at all. Gabe shares stories from his life that we all can relate to. I particularly enjoyed the job and relationship stories, the Star Wars and Matrix references, and his witty, sly humor. I hope you download or pick up a copy after reading this essay.

If not, we offer this: one commenter is eligible to receive a signed copy (eBook or paperback) from Gabe. Comment for one entry. RT this post and comment, receive two entries. Follow @GabeBerman, comment, and RT on Twitter, three entries. Share on Facebook, yada yada all the rest, four entries.

And we’re off…

AND THE OSCAR GOES TO…

Woody Allen’s Manhattan opens on a black & white wide shot of the city’s skyline accompanied by the unmistakable fluttering clarinet of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

Woody voices over, “Chapter One. He adored New York city. He idolized it all out of proportion.”

One of the most magnificent and memorable moments in movie history.

I was just watching this at home. Not the movie itself, but a documentary on Woody Allen. When it ended I clicked toYouTube.com and watched the opening scene of Manhattan, all three minutes and forty-three seconds of it, over and over and over and over and over again.

So here I now sit, in Starbucks, with Rhapsody in Blue flowing through my headphones. I’d like to add a bit of magnificence to the world before the end of yet another day.

It’s Saturday night and many of the tables are filled with adolescent aged guys and girls because even with the best of fake I.D’s, they’re still too young to make it beyond the bouncer at a bar.

I can’t hear them well because of the Gershwin in my ears but I look past my laptop and see the scene cinematically. It’s a wide shot. I switch to black & white in my mind. I hit the back-button in iTunes to restart the song and the unmistakable fluttering clarinet of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue flawlessly accompanies the first frame of my movie.

They’re drinking coffee and sharing cookies and are full of smiles and inaudible chatter.

I voice over, “Even to this day, with all of the girls I’ve dated and with the remarkable metaphysical distances I’ve traveled, the ‘why not me’ feelings that once overwhelmed me as a kid are still lingering near the horizon and can quickly roll up to crash over me in residual waves of envy.”

The camera pivots and zooms into my face for a tight shot. I’m caught in the moment, expressionless. But my eyes soften, I slightly smile and I take a deep breath. Only three minutes and forty-three seconds have passed but just like in Manhattan, the momentous conclusion of the nearly seventeen minute Rhapsody is heard.

I type:

It all worked out the way it had to. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for who I once was. How can I now be anything but grateful?

Feel free to feel the pain of your youth. But you’re now in a position to make it up to the kid you once were. Regardless of everything, you can still be magnificent. You can still add magnificence to the world.

Today is your day.

All you have to do is take the first step and the next steps will take you.

End scene.

Live Like A Fruit Fly

#LLAFF

Gabe and Rachel welcome your comments, experiences, and existential stuff below.