I have lived a very singular life, and I do all sorts of interesting, albeit atypical things.
Not everything, mind you. I went to the Shaw Festival this evening to watch the Secret Theatre, and tonight's offering was White Rabbit Red Rabbit by Nassim Soleimanpour.
It was a wonderful play that reminds me a lot about my career of being a professional red rabbit.
I won't spoil it, but when you do things because you can see something and know how to take advantage of it, you learn not to expect applause for it, but if the lack of validation is what stops you, you never had a clue what life was ever about. It's not about mugging for a camera and think it's all about finding yourself on television telling the little people how to think in binary terms.
The point isn't to look for bravos. As Twitter proves, people want to boo you.
So let them boo.
I am out to create and build.
But I am also out to test what I build, and that means taking my creation out in the real world to see how well it works.
I know the day I decided to become a journalist as if it happened today. I knew my psychology degree was not going to be put to conventional use.
That psych degree was my ticket to become the ultimate experimenter, and I was going to have a blast doing it.
I did not just have a job, but a meta-job.
A career I would study by being employed in it.
It was a wild ride to say the least.
But when that epic escapade experiment was over, I had to rethink a lot of things.
I had a lot of experience in different things from writing to researching to teaching to experimenting. They all worked together but Western society is rigid, rote, and not in any way daring or innovative.
White Rabbit Red Rabbit was not a play written by some chi-chi Manhattanite. It was written by a man who lived in Iran and could not leave his nation at the time that he wrote it.
My problem was always that I really don't fit, and yet can jump right into a new situation and blend right in.
Somehow, I needed a new experiment where I was the subject, the experiment, and the experimenter.
How does one go about that task? Especially if you are a woman? I used to quip that I took seven years to go find the meaning of life, and then one day, one of the Law and Order shows had a character utter the exact same phrase -- it was a male character, of course.
Because no woman could ever dream of doing it.
But I did more than dream it.
I did it.
I had an epic quest of uncovering all of the deepest truths of the universe.
I still do.
But there is no point of uncovering those truths unless you can do something of value with it.
The problem was that I am a woman in an oppressive society that thinks it's liberal, and worse thinks it lionizes "rebel" girls -- they may be loud, but true rebels never are. It is the cowardly who are loud because it is a fortress to keep the predators away.
The ones who are busy walking into the eye of the storm aren't babbling to the cameras, stealing other people's ideas as they read from a script and wear a mask.
But those kinds of things get in my way.
I am an author by trade, but an experimenter at heart, and some places get my style more than others. It's not just a question of zeitgeist, but ortgeist.
And sometimes you think faster than what the clock can reach.
In 2018, Western society is playing a very vile and dirty mind manipulation campaign against women. Terrorizing them into believing they have no power unless they squawk and rant as they inwardly shake in their boots that all of their rights can be taken away.
Only if women -- who are 55% percent of the population, allow it.
Women never quite apply themselves. They are too busy whining about the emotional labour they choose to sink in lost causes, tell their husbands which tie to wear, and try to make their fake friends jealous.
Pick your battles, ladies. Let your husband wear whatever outfit he wants. Stop dragging your feet by willfully allowing yourselves to lose your focus. If women threatened to stop buying and shopping, they could take the economy down. You want your rights off the table? Exercise the ones that you already have.
But that takes a willingness to go out there and test yourself and experiment.
Even if Twitter frowns at you and hashtags you in a unclassy way.
It's more fun strutting around when everyone disapproves of you, anyway.
I know from personal experience.
Doing things first and differently is a real trip.
I never tried to act like one of those women in feminine hygiene commercials, anyway: jumping around without purpose, smiling a gummy smile, and cuddling a bag of maxi-pads like it was my first born.
Eccentric I may be, but dignity is my favourite accessory.
But back to how I took the laboratory into the real world after I pulled it off the first time.
I had no place in the world with my unique skill set.
I knew how journalism worked to the point that I predicted its collapse, but how do you go back to a profession that poisoned itself to death?
I taught for a while, both college and art school, and I focussed on my art since that's the way you express the nebulous parts of your psyche.
The problem was I already knew my own mechanics.
I knew my strengths and weaknesses. It is very hard to surprise myself when I grew up conducting experiments on everything from how to play a violin badly to how to teach someone with ASM in such a way that they blend seamlessly into a classroom.
I can easily throw myself into a situation where I know zilch, and then work my way to competency and then mastery. I am brave that way.
But just because I knew myself well, didn't mean there wasn't some hidden crevice slumbering and needing a jolt.
My experiments on myself began with Monsters and Queens, a web site based on alchemy, and then it refined to A Dangerous Woman Story Studio where I discovered Matriarchal Storytelling.
Then came F.R.E.E.D. where all the old rules of journalism were trashed, and a better form of information came to me.
I had the system down.
What I didn't have was the backing.
I have had people express to me that they do not understand why what I do isn't better-known or appreciated.
I tell them it is because I am Writing While Female.
How do I know?
Because my own experiments proved it time and again. The Left can howl about Donald Trump all they want, but when it comes to practicing what they preach, the results are no better with them than they are with their sworn enemies.
But that's not a barrier I wish to use as an excuse to throw in the towel.
My ideas are too good to stop now.
In alchemy, there are four stages that are the same colours as The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: black, white, yellow, and red. Nigredo in alchemy is the first stage (blackness), then Albedo (whiteness), Citrinitas (yellowness), and then, when you are ready, Rubedo (redness).
My work reached Rubedo. The social climate is in Nigredo.
And oddly enough, until recently, I would put my personal self in the catagory of Citrinitas.
That's changed. I have no problem putting myself out there. I can arrive because I can deliver.
I do not need an ideal circumstances because that's a feint: there will never be a good time. It's a trick. You either have substance and confidence or you don't. It's you, not the times and not the place.
If you are someone who has practice turning any place in the world into your own laboratory, you know how to improvise and understand the concept of adlibture: not following a script, but your dreams that have the discipline of empiricism to get you to your destination regardless of where you are and under what circumstances.
You are the key to unlock your future.
And you don't need nepotism or rigs to get you to place you want and need to be.
It can be just as fun as it is important, too.
That's what journalism -- if it had morals at its core -- should have been able to do with ease.
It didn't, however. It fell flat on its face when other people finally got their right to free speech.
And I find it interesting.
Not that journalists couldn't hack it, but what destroyed them didn't destroy me.
They held more power and cards than I ever did, but the difference was I was emotionally literate and intellectually game for anything, and they held on to their poisonous scripts and still do.
I oriented myself by being an explorer, detective, and experimenter. I was always willing to learn and try new things, like a secret play I had no idea even existed, but was willing to try.
And then by some peculiar chance, got to have the final word in it.
While journalists are going out of their way being ugly and telling the world how horrible it is and how everyone should resist free thought and their natural impulses, I know that the world is beautiful and it sings.
And I know I will go wherever that beautiful song sings its most melodious melodies because I am an experimenter and explorer who is ready to deliver because I am excited to arrive...