Three Strikes . . . But Not Out.

Roxy Rogers
My life is a seriously fun dose of bad juju lately, peppered with a little cosplay. But then, I don’t really believe in juju. I’m not superstitious. Okay, so I’m open to the possibility that we might physically (magnetic fields) gravitate toward or attract whatever it is we’re focused on. If that’s so, I believe it to be scientifically quantifiable, but likely without a branch of science to measure it accurately as yet. I also know that when I focus on gratitude and the wonderful people in my life, more positive things occur, and the less traumatic this bumpy road of juju feels. Nevertheless, the road for any artist is already a bumpy one, so several years of major trauma and minor catastrophes without any relief in between them all can be more than a little challenging, sometimes depressing. At least I haven’t cut off my ear (apologies to Vincent for that gratuitous mention).
So during this ride I've spent a lot of time observing other people’s reactions to me, and mine to them. I've come to understand that while I don’t think of myself in terms of labels or boxes, other people have, and continue to do so. I define myself as quite a bit more than just a “writer of erotica and romance,” but until someone gets to know me, they don’t see any of the other things I am, either as an artist or a person. And because I've often been too trusting of others, and become more guarded as a result, it’s becoming harder to get to know me. So I’m increasingly aware that from other people’s viewpoints, I sit in a kind of twilight zone intersection of “labels.” I have, in effect, three strikes against me in the moral majority’s view:
-I’m childless (by conscious choice)
-I’m atheist
-I’m female