Kiais in a Vacuum

I keep meaning to write about writing on my writer blog but then I remember that writing about writing is boring and no one cares. So I’m going to write about Ninja Turtles.

I am not against change. I’m not opposed to evolution. I’m a writer, damnit, and I know that if a character or fictional world is going to survive, it needs to grow and change and evolve.

But in space? Really?

My son has discovered the Ninja Turtles through toys and t-shirts and various other media. I thought I’d scroll through OnDemand and see if I could find him some context for those toys because, as far as I know (by which I mean I assume based on no concrete knowledge) the Ninja Turtles have never truly been off air since sometime in the 80s.

Thank you Nickelodeon for making me feel correct, there is a brand new Ninja Turtles show… set in space. Where no one can hear you hi-ya. And it. is. dumb.

You see, an evil race of triceratops aliens have used a black hole machine to encompass the Earth? The Ninja Turtles, along with formerly adult/currently teen April and Casey have escaped with the help of a robot with a cyborg brain? And now they have to traverse the galaxy looking for pieces of the black hole machine to reverse the effects and save Earth? And from what I can tell, their ninja abilities are negated by their bulky astronaut suits so they just bounce around with their signature weapons strapped to their shells UNDERNEATH their space suits.

Soooo… yeah.

Not being a degenerate internet troll who gets irrationally angry about such things, I’m not calling for a boycott or threatening sexual violence on the creators. I have better things to do with my time. But unless a focus group of actual 8-year-olds demanded this particular evolution, I’d say the franchise has distorted its original creativity. If, however, my focus group suggestion is true and a new generation of children are getting exactly the storylines that fuel their storytelling needs, then I’m down. Give the children what they want. Even if it’s useless ninja abilities in space.

You Didn’t Change YOUR Last Name

There are days I wake up with an idea, jot down some notes before I get too busy and spend every unoccupied moment thinking and planning on how to write it down. As soon as my son goes down for his nap, I sit and write it all out without thinking about it. When my husband gets home, he takes the boy and I reread and edit. After bedtime, I sit at the computer and polish that piece til I’m content.

And there are days I keep watching LEGO Star Wars after the kid’s asleep because that shit is hilarious.

Doc Knows Best


If all of the “thought leader” articles on LinkedIn were replaced with Doc McStuffins songs (“She’s Not Bossy, She’s the Boss”, “Be Good to Your Tummy”, “Don’t Be Afraid to Play”), the modern workplace might not be so broken.



I’m not a fan of pranks to begin with but I think it’s cruel to take someone’s food from the communal fridge at work. Food is a basic need. Taking it away from someone goes beyond selfishness. It’s an act of fundamental disrespect and negation of that person’s humanity.

That being said, I also think it’s bullshit when people treat communal eating areas as their own personal pantry. Do you really need to leave 8 yogurts in the fridge, Cheryl? How many dirty coffee cups are you planning to leave on the window ledge, Bob?

Buried in Kipple and Target’s to Blame

I have been totally under Target’s thrall since the moment I stepped foot in my first back in 2002 but once I got pregnant, maaaaan, there was no stopping me. And the crap I bought when I first started bringing my son, kicking his little legs in the cart, just became more plentiful when he decided to obsess about Star Wars.

TODAY, however, I bought nothing for my son. I gave him things to look at and play with and then put them back on the shelf and said goodbye as we rolled away. My mission was cat food and hand soap and I am proud to say that I completed that mission… and a couple of V-neck t-shirts on clearance (it’s my mom uniform of choice) and maaaybe a frozen pizza for lunch. But that’s it. I put back the Ninja Turtle bubble bath, the generic non-Nerf football rocket, the $7 Star Wars greeting card and the As Seen On TV veggie spinner that makes noodles out of zucchini. BACK ON THE SHELF WITH YE!

I don’t want to brag or anything, but I also rolled right past Starbucks. My Self-Control game is strong today.

Another Writer Blog

Being part of a community is a blessing. Being defined by it, not so much.

There are far too many writers (on Twitter) who think they need to be a certain thing and act (or act like they act) a certain way in order to fulfill their ideal of what a writer is: nocturnal, obsessive, tortured, anti-social.

I don’t like it, I tell you. I don’t want to. I just want to write words and have other people read them and otherwise live my life the way I do.

SARK, quoting a child I think, said it best: “Just be who you are.”

Then again, maybe those particular people don’t like who they are and that’s why they write? To give themselves purpose? Because they haven’t found another definition that works for them?

I write because I like to. I want that to be enough.