Crystal - The Red Empress

Crystal – The Red Empress

When we wake up in the mornings, take care of our children, commute to work, clean our homes, prepare for our daily grinds, pay our bills, how many of us also log on to our computers and check in on our Twisted families within the first hour of waking? I know I do. I sometimes don’t even have my first cup of coffee before I’ve picked up my phone to check on the twisted events from the night before. What have I missed? We owe this addiction, this habit, this communal commonality of weirdness to one woman: Crystal, our Red Empress.

This bold brassy woman had a vision to create a place where people from all over the world who were  strange, had different views than the norm, maybe felt like misfits, could come together and speak their minds without being ostracized by others. She created a community that feels like a home. And she did this because like many of us; growing up, our homes lives for lack of a better life truly sucked.

She shares a rocky background; an abusive an alcoholic parental past. When this happens to people, it makes, breaks, or a combination of the two in the outcome of the resulting person. It definitely created this strong, independent beauty that stood before me that balmy, rainy afternoon; beaming up at me, she embraced me recognizing me as a sister from another mister as we joke.

We spent the afternoon with the rest of the New York twisties cooking out, eating, drinking, and socializing. Living minutes apart; this group of fellow comrades had never really met; their only form of communicating was behind their computer screen, safely hidden from the prying eyes of the real world. And here they stood in front of their fearless leader; their larger than life Crimson Queen. She leads us daily, staring back at us, peering at us with those emerald eyes and we know that today is going to be ok because our family and our sister, our mother is there for us. But today, today on this Saturday afternoon, she really is there all 5 feet 2 inches of her. The image has become mortal, the dream a reality.

When the crowd thins, I get my moment alone with my kindred spirit. I find as I meet each member, that they all truly are kindred in one way or another. I listen to Crystal’s story, so much like so many others. Did we all have the same parents? Was alcohol, drugs, and abuse free to anybody who wanted it?

As a teenage street punk Crystal grew up street wise. Her family then were the boys she to this day calls brothers like Mike R. and Mike D. These men watched her blossom from the ballsy, brazen teenage runaway to the incredible, intelligent entrepreneur she is today. As a mother of three, she not only is a vet tech, but also owns her own pet sitting service, and admins several Facebook pages; the most successful, The Twisted Wonderland.

 This amazing 31 year old makes it look easy: juggling three kids, working 2 jobs, administrating web pages. It’s because she does it her way. She refuses to let anyone or anything stand in her way. She selects people to help her, she takes and consults people on advice, but in the end she goes with her gut instincts to lead her in the direction she feels is best for her people. That’s how she see them: her people. She is the matriarch of this complex, twisted society. She is successful because she has the support of her partner, her members and her other administrative staff.

Different things remind me of people in this group. What can I say, I like metaphors. I’m listening to Matikas’ 1989 Toy Soliders, and that is what this Twisted Group is we are fallen toy soldiers that are finding our way up again. It is this group created by this Red Sargent that is helping us get back up bit by bit after being torn apart at different times in our lives.

In Alice in Wonderland the Red Queen is a Malevolent ruler. “Off with her Head” she would cry, and while Crystal does have that wild temper, she has a heart of gold and rules and runs this group with nothing but love and benevolence. So to those reading this blog, won’t you come play in our Twisted Wonderland; I can promise she won’t take your head the first day… 

On the Road

Life on the Road…

Part of this journey, has also been one of self-discovery. Driving is an ideal venue for this; the mind numbing monotony of the tires on the tarred asphalt and the drumming to the wheels on the pavement allows the mind to wander. Admittedly, it returns to several singular thoughts, my family, my writing, my emotional turmoil. 

  Have you ever tried not to think about something? No matter what, it will seep in in like water under the door, flooding the basement of your mind. I drive and images float across the crevices of my mind like a monarch butterfly dropping down lighting on every flower and creating new life.  When this occurs it’s time to turn on the tunes, blare out the memories and check on my social media family.

Frequently, I am checking in on my social media family. The new trend this week are people are posting anonymous threads. Some are funny, some are sexy, some are heart wrenching, some are mean. The group members comment or like or even ignore. The amazing aspect about this group is that through it all we fight, support, defend and love because that’s what family does and that’s what these anonymous posts are: they are life at its different points and the responses are what family members do. We laugh, we flirt, we, cry, we ignore, we bitch, we complain, and then most of all we love.

I chose this group because of its familial feeling. Part of my interviewing process is to ask what other groups people belong to. I myself belong to several. Nothing out there compares to this. This twisted group of freaks. The more people I meet, the more commonalities I find between the underlying threads that connect us across state lines. Many of us have come from alcohol, drug, and abuse home-life and relationships. Many of us have had suffered some great losses in our lives. Many of us suffer from some kind of addiction: drug, alcohol, sexual, gambling. Many of us have questioned our sexuality. Many of us have contemplated suicide. Through all of these struggles and continuing struggles we have found our way into this twisted family of hope and understanding.

My first night out: 

Night One:The first night I was sleeping in a rest stop. It’s one thirty in the morning and I’m checking in with the group. The windows on my eclipse are extra dark, so I don’t realize a black man has walked up to the window of my car and knocks loudly. The sound explodes through the car causing me to grab the small 32 in my lap and aimlessly point in at the blackened window. I can’t see what I am pointing at because the light of the cell phone has blinded me on top of the darkness.

The man is a pan handler, a beggar, he asks for money or lose change. I’m so irate and scared, that I grab a dollar from the toll money in the center console, slightly roll down the window, aim my gun, rap star gangster style side cocked and hand him the dollar. He just stands there afraid to come closer.

“Here, take it” I yell. Gingerly, he moves forward, quickly grasps it and thanks me and apologizes profusely.

I believe I am the only 40 year old white woman in history to hold a gun on a person and force them to take cash.

Mike RIvera Fire and Ice

Mike Rivera- Fire and Ice

Raleigh North Carolina

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost knew the magical imagery polar opposites hold; so must it be true for Mike Rivera. The first thing one notices about this quiet unassuming cross between Zac Brown and Kevin Smith is his shy quirky smiling eyes hidden behind his glasses and his symbolic ink work.

Emblazoned on each arm is a star one filled with liquid water the other with liquid fire. He explains how to him they represent life and death. Fire being death and water representing the ultimate rebirth of everything. So, I suppose Mike would favor those who have tasted desire in Frost’s opinion.  And once meeting him I would happen to agree.

I chose this representation, because this symbolism, this imagery goes much farther, much deeper than just life and death. It is the entire representation of Mike’s existence. And I don’t even think he is aware of how great the decision of that particular tattoo would be the representation of the core that is Mike Rivera.

Let’s start with heritage. Irish and Puerto Rican. Fire and Ice. The Red hot passionate temperamental Irish and Puerto Rican stereotypes mixed with the cool, laid back have another beer and relax attitude.Moving on to where he resides. Born and raised in New York, the land of bright lights and big cities, he’s now nestled in valley of South Carolina.

Even his personality has a duality to it. In group, he can hide behind social media and let his freak flag fly a bit; let that fire burn. His wit, charm, sexual humor, seeps in through the cracks of the posts, but in person his cool water flows over you. He’s open and light and airy, very social, he doesn’t mind sharing his rough childhood, stories of his son, his passion for music, and his past relationships even; but the fire behind the social media screen has been tempered by the waters of his own personal soul. The only time it is truly ignited is when he speaks about Crystal, the Twisted group Founder.

If Mike is Water, cool and collected, then Crystal is definitely Fire and she ignites not only the passion of everyone in the group, but certainly of Mr. Rivera. But this post is not about Crystal, we will get to hers, this post is about Mike, and what I can say is that that their 20 year friendship has been build out of love, trust, and mutual respect. I’m not sure what kind of man Mike might have turned out to be without knowing Crystal? Probably fine, I definitely think a lot shyer, quieter, hiding always behind his guitar instead of stepping out from behind it occasionally.

It’s ironic that the name Crystal is an ice formation, when it is clear that Crystal is Mike’s Fire and Mike is Crystal’s Calming Ice. She ignites his personality, she is his creative muse, and she burns for her friend’s feelings and needs. And in return Mike soothes Crystal’s anger and temperament. He is there when she needs to vent and needs to calm down. Mike is that cool glass of water, that refreshing beer on a hot afternoon. He gives you fresh perspective on how to handle different situations. Everyone should have a Crystal and a Mike in their lives.

Women just to let you know he is single, but speaks very highly of a few in our group. Unfortunately, he doesn’t use social media for dating, having had bad experiences in the past, but I am sure he would make an exception for one of our twisted family members. And everybody should get a chance to meet this loveable mild mannered Clark Kent just waiting to be someone’s Superman.

We all have people who come into our lives; we can never be sure of what roles they will play. But they leave their marks on us, and like Crystal, the burn crevices into our souls, shape our minds and hearts and help us become the people we are. It is clear that their love has changed and developed over time; what was once passion and friendship, is now familial and bonding.

 That is the beauty of social media, it connects likeminded people so that we might be touched by these individuals. As my readers look upon these words, think about you have met in these groups. Think upon when you have been fire and when you have been ice. Who has ignited your soul and whose fears have you calmed.

HarleyQuin or Joker

HarleyQuinn-or Joker?

One evening, early one as a member in this group, this author recognized the frustration in a statement by another member. Forever trying to solve everyone else’s problems, I told the young woman she could privately message me. After many hours of talking, I found a kindred spirit, and a younger sister. From that night Harley and I have bonded over many hours of talking realizing how similar we are in our past histories, our religious and philosophical beliefs, our wretched relationships and we realize that the bonds of sisterhood do not always come from a bloodline.

Finding a relationship akin to family in a social media across miles and distance is what draws me to writing this blog. What is it about social media and peoples commonalties, the ties that bind, that connects them? After that night on the computer with Harley, I had to meet her, and that weekend was my chance.

As she opened the door my long, colored sock clad sister, still very funky and punky in her mid-30’s jumped into my arms and we hugged and squealed like the long lost sisters we were. At last we walked inside and exchanged gifts we had been collecting. Amongst mine were various rocks and gem stones that Harley is famous for collecting and energizing, amongst minge were fresh herbs from my garden.

We spent the day at her favorite place, the Jetty at Pt St. Lucie; like myself Harley is drawn to water for cleansing, regenerating, and healing properties. It was at the Jetty that I learned more about my most wonderful girl.

Like the rest of us in this Twisted group, Harley is dealing with inner and outer demons. Throughout the day we speak of different people and different topics, the friend who overdosed on Molly, her dad who works at the jail, the store where she gets her stones, Cracker Barrel, where she waits tables. She talks and smiles through it all. Through her talking she spills some of her secrets.

Mistakes from her past catch up with her daily and she fights to keep them at bay. Poor advice from years ago has her in constant fear of losing her 2 children of which she only has 40% custody. Optimism and faith in her children’s father is what keeps her going. That and the love for her two babies. It’s crazy what we do for love. She lives in the constant belief that one day this man will come clean to his family and tell them that he still love Harley, and they will reunite and be the happy family they are behind secret doors. The pain behind her laughing eyes is there even though she always wears a smile.  Ironically, HarleyQuin wears the Joker’s smile.

I want to share more, and truthfully it’s taken me over a week to write this because I also want to be selfish and keep my memories of Harley to myself. Because she is a little treasure. She is the gold nugget miners search their lives for, the diamond deep within the coal, the amber trapped within the tree. When people are around her, they immediately are lightened in spirit. She is an energy transferor whether she means to be or not, but there is just something about being in her presence that automatically lightens one’s spirit.  She is infectious, the black plague of happiness.

Because she transfers her happiness to others, she leaves very little for herself. By the end of the day, her eyes are cast downward, her smile is half twisted, her knees drawn to her body. She is a butterfly drawing itself back into its cocoon to be reborn the next day. She is awaiting a phone call from her love and children, awaiting news of her impending future, her anxiety is returning. This is her daily ritual. Why my sister wears the HarleyQuin mask.