Wherein One Gets Confused

Okay, so I guess I need to make something clear. I have a very common name.

There are famous people who have the same name I do.

There are other authors with my same name.

If you google 'Rebecca Blake', it's highly unlikely I'll be on the list.

Currently, I have no books of any kind for sale. If you see a book to buy and it says 'Rebecca Blake' is the author, I didn't write it.

If I finally decide to publish or republish I'll dedicate some space to it on this website. That will avoid confusion, one can only hope. I know I talk about writing a lot, after all, it is my hobby and it's not anything fantastically farfetched to like to talk about one's hobbies.

Online identity crisis happens all the time. In this day and age of internet pellapallooza people get crossed signals and mix up who is who. No one is to blame for it, it just is.

I gave a great deal of thought as to whether to do something to make my name slightly more distinctive. But is there any such thing? I'd have to rename myself something like 'Wild Flower of the Ocean', but I'm just not feeling it.

I've tossed around the idea of using 'Rebecca W. Blake' to avoid some bewilderment. I haven't decided just yet.

I am who I am and what I am is one of the masses. Regular person about town doing regular stuff. So if I have a regular name, I guess that fits.

Edit: there are now books I have published. Look at the published works page to see which ones are actually written by me. 

Why?

Why is the literary world obsessed with the process of becoming damaged?

Why is it considered good writing to write about that process and bad writing to write about healing? The process of becoming undamaged?

Have you noticed in books these days, the ones that show the horrors of humanity with a main character that ends the series emotionally and mentally worse off than when they started, is lauded and extolled as high quality stuff?

Books written, showing the better side of humanity with goodness, hope and forgiveness and a main character that ends a better person than they started, is considered shallow, unrealistic and fluffy?

Why is one point of view more valid than the other? Are we all emotionally bereft? Are we incapable as human beings of improvement, hope and joy? Are those things any less real than depravity, anger and sorrow? Are they not also part of the human experience?

Why aren't the better emotions worthy of exploring in our literary world? Why are they casually dismissed as fluff? Proclaimed to be okay if you want escapism reading, said with a curling sneer on the end of the lips.

Why is only what is depressing, unedifying and angry considered literary?

What is wrong with us?

Snake Oil

I'm exhausted. And I feel like my breakfast is going to be revisiting me soon. And, to quote my mother, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

This can only mean one thing, sick post! Oh boy! I know you love them! Especially when the cynicism and sarcasm hit epic levels! Fun! Fun! Fun!

So if you have serious health problems, you probably already know every Disturbed Alternative Health Fanatic Tradesman, or DAHFT (as I like to call them), on the planet will try to cure you.
I'm not talking about people who advocate eating healthy, exercising and taking vitamin D. I'm not talking about people who cautiously approach and suggest something different that may help because they're concerned. I'm not talking about the people who tell you what their Aunt Mildred did, because they care about you.

I'm talking about the kind of people who think doctors are part of a socio-economic conspiracy and are trying to scam the public. I'm talking about the voracious purveyors of modern snake oil.

Because obviously doctors went to school for twelve years, and racked up hundreds of thousands of dollars of student loans to fool you out of your hard earned cash. And they put up with insurance companies and malpractice insurance because it's fun! Life is just not exciting enough without these kinds of challenges.

DAHFTs especially like try to prey upon the chronically ill, and try to get them to stop seeing 'mainstream' doctors and taking their medicines. My sisters and I talk about this weirdly interesting phenomenon from time to time.

My youngest sister tends to be blunt and doesn't brook nonsense for any real length of time. When approached by a particularly voracious DAHFT my sister said, "I did research on what happens to people with my condition who stopped taking their medicine. They DlED. They're all DEAD now."

And she said it in the kind of tone that makes you snort your drink out your nose.

My brother in law has a masters degree in chemistry. So he likes to check the "science" behind things. Let's just say, there's a lot of bogus stuff out there. He knows a lot of stuff that 'works' is simply having a placebo effect.

The thing that gets me, is how fast a DAHFT can spot a sick person. They zero in on them with uncanny ability. And they always, always have something they're selling. What they're selling is varied. It takes many forms from the plausible to the wildly farfetched.

And the instructions can be unnerving.

"Twiddle this organic twoodlestick, handmade by nuns in Italy, under your nose for thirty seconds, run outside buck naked and jump around for two minutes, come back inside and lay on this sheepskin mat, made exclusively in an obscure village in Malaysia, for ten minutes breathing deeply and chewing ancient tree sap from an extinct tree like a goat, light this candle specially made of beeswax collected from a special bees found only in India and meditate to this native Egyptian pipe music for another thirty minutes. You'll feel so amazing you won't know yourself.  You'll never waste another dime on doctors or expensive medicines again! Think of all the money you'll save!"

"That'll be $2,695 for today's supplies."