Evil is a dirty word.

When you call something evil, you are making a conscious decision not to engage with it. There is no point negotiating with evil; there's no point in talking with it or attempting to uncover some motive behind it. In the absence of good, there is no hope of common ground, no chance of understanding. Evil is beyond our powers of comprehension, so why even try?

When you call a person evil, you absolve yourself of your past and future obligation to relate to that person. When you call a belief system evil, you transfer that charge to its adherents. You decide to shut down conversation and withhold relationship. You appoint yourself judge of the spiritual and moral value of an entire group of people, people you've never met, and you simultaneously destroy your chances of ever meeting them in trust.

And what exactly do you gain? Moral satisfaction? What do you achieve? More important, what are you hoping to achieve? When you broadcast your belief in the evil nature of a group of people, what are you asking your listeners or readers to do? What are you expecting them to do? Do you want them to be angry alongside you? Do you want them to act somehow to stop the evil? What good do you expect your action to accomplish?

THIS is why we still sleep in a Full.

Years ago, Randy and I stayed in a frou-frou hotel, which was a pretty big deal back then. We rarely stayed in hotels at all, and when we did they weren't the kind that gave you shampoo and shaving kits. I can't remember if we were excited or exhausted, but I remember that when the lock flashed green and the door clicked open, we saw a room filled with bed.
I had never seen one bigger; it was a super-king -- emperor -- god of the universe-sized mattress. I launched myself onto it and bounced around, reveling in the elite luxury I was living (as advertised on the dozens of logo-covered laminated cards scattered around the room). After we'd unzipped suitcases, brushed teeth, and undressed, we climbed into bed and switched off the lights.
In the dark I turned to kiss my husband, but I couldn't find him. He was somewhere in the vast expanse of that bed, I knew, but with a tiny surge of panic I realized I couldn't even feel him -- not his weight, not his heat, not his breath. Then his hand found me in the dark and we made a joke of it. If we slept in a bed this big at home we might as well not sleep together at all.
We've been married 11 years and we still sleep on a full-sized mattress. I go to sleep every night knowing  that the love of my life won't be more than four inches away until morning.
So when I first heard Amanda Palmer's Bed Song, it reminded me how we'd dodged something dangerous all those years ago, and I was grateful. They just released the new video for the song. It's beautifully done. Watch it, feel it, but hold your hand over your heart. Mine tried to fall out.

Happy New Year

So it’s 2013. About 12 hours ago I finished up the last of my client work, sent my last invoice, and quit all my jobs. I am taking my life back.

Because I don’t want my work to make money for things I don’t believe in.

Because breathe-eat-work-sleep is not the same as live.

Because contentedness, though pleasant, gets me nowhere.

Because without risk there is no benefit.

Because I want to create things that speak for me, not for someone else.

So my work hours will stay work hours, but they’ll be for my work. I will write. Happy New Year.