The Daily Routine

Streams of Consciousness, Daily Struggles and Survivals, Vlogs and More

Why You Should Think Twice Before Collaborating


In my twenty plus years of writing and creating art, I have rarely collaborated with other creatives. I enjoy being a stand alone, independent person. Experience has also taught me some harsh lessons in regard to collaberating.

There was one good time on Paltalk in the early 2000’s when I sang a hook for a producer in Las Vegas. We did that for fun, creating a parody song. I still have the copy of it and occasionally listen, enjoying the memory. That one was a casual and positive, collective collaboration.

The few other collaborations I’ve done have left me jaded. I hear this often from indie creatives. So why does collaborating with other creatives end up like this?

What I have experienced is a simple lack of ethics and a self-serving intent. They simply don’t give a shit. They don’t think their behavior will ever come back to haunt them.

When I say I’m going to do something for someone I do it. If I’m having struggles producing the exchange I promised, I communicate about it. I care about my character as a creative being.

In my experience, ethical creatives are difficult to find, especially when dealing with any Hollywood related type individual. My personal experience had been that many of them are narcissistic sharks who will love bomb a person with a fantastic promise; a lie to get what they want. If you plan to deal with Hollywood types, armor up and lawyer up.  Frankly, lawyer up period. 

Sometimes collaborating can be a great advantage for a creative who is starting out. It allows for networking and connection. I support guest blogging for writers. You get to control your content and you can share it as much as you want. I highly recommend this platorm for writers. I don’t consider this to be collaboration persay, as there is normally no exhange promise or writing as a collective. Guest blogging expands the reader platform for your writing.

However, in regard to exchange collaboration, the question remains. Is there going to be a balanced exchange of product and the sharing of creative work?

My previous, and certainly final, experience in being burned on exchange collaboration happened like this.

In 2015, I made a collaboration exchange agreement through email with a videographer. I wrote a poetic script for the videographer’s short video. In exchange, the videographer was going to make a video for one of my pre-recorded spoken word poetry pieces.

I emailed the videographer three of my recorded pieces. In a return email, they decide they liked my poem “Illusion”, a piece I had not publicized and would do so with the video was given to me to publicize. The videographer asked if they could put some music to to my poem. I agreed.

I waited. I watched the videographer making videos for other people, but my video had not arrived. I gave them time. I understand that paying projects come first. That’s how I work as well.

The following year, the videographer and family went through a transition, moved, had to re-settle, and so I gave space for them to balance out. Being patient and giving allowances, I waited, didn’t bother them, figuring when their dust settled, I’d receive what I was promised.

I observed as they did just that, becoming a part of a sensationalized situation. I still held space, feeling that advocacy work came first.

Yet, I saw the videographer was making videos and doing photo shoots for people. So, I decided to email and see had they forgotten about me? Possibly. It can happen when people go through life transitions. 

Ok. I stay in my critical thinking, hoping I’m not witnessing what my gut had really told me from the beginning; that people will use others for gain, then throw them away.

I messaged the videographer on Facebook messanger. I could see the person had just been active a mere fifteen minutes earlier.

Again… my message Ignored.

They’ve been active on Facebook messenger since I sent the message.

Still ignored.

So, I am resigned to take it for what if is and let it go. Now I know how these people are. True colors have shown themselves. They attach to people for as long as they might gain from them and then its seemingly over.

I do things in writing for a reason. I am a writer who likes to have proof of truth. I document. I keep emails and messages.

It was 2015 when I originally handed over the script for their video. In 2016, I have Facebook communications about the video I was supposed to receive. It is now 2017. I still have nothing.

This is about seeing the ethical system of other people. Instead of a simple response of “hey, oh gosh, so sorry this has taken so long thanks for being patient.“, I am ignored.

Guess what that triggers? Shunning. Being extracted from.  A myriad of emotional battery replaying. 

When I am treated this way, if someone asks me about them, they’ll get the truth of my negative experiemce. I don’t run in popularity contests. I don’t use people for personal gain then throw them away.

I’m not as pissed off at the lack of being given what I was promised, as I am at the blatant disrespect of being ignored. I’m no longer promoting those who are unethical people. I don’t care who they are. If you got mentioned by me in a radio interview, or your work shared to my thousands of followers and then fucked me over, you will never be promoted by me again.

There are no second chances when someone openly disrespects me. I don’t play nice. I don’t kiss the ass of academia, which is slowly phasing and dying out. I don’t worry whether someone is going to like or even endorse my work. Why?

Because running on this mindset is a recipe for being used, being bullshitted and it’s frankly, inconsequential. Most readers don’t give a shit if your novel has a forward written by someone with PhD after their name. unless you are writing an academic book.

Readers read content. I usually skip forwards as a reader, to get to the meat of a book. Most readers I know do the same. Blurbs don’t impress me either.  You can have a blurb from a president on your publication. If your book doesn’t interest me, that blurb is not going to make me buy it.

Additionally, it doesn’t necessarily sell your book. Marketing knowledge and the money to invest in advertising will sell your book/product.

So all of the spazzing and pining and usery I have experienced in my decades of being a public creative, from my experience, means nothing except being the teacher of lessons.

What matters to your audience is how well you write and create and more than ANYTHING, personally connecting with your target market.

In summary, my advise and perspective is to focus your time and energy on YOUR own work. Don’t give it away. Definitely don’t give it away on a promise, even in writing. Unless you have the resources and desire to sue, should you not receive what you were promised, more often than not, you will find yourself empty handed.

I also don’t want you to pattern your networking based on my experiences. Just take them into consideration and move forward better armed to build your boundaries.

And without QUESTION, follow your INTUITION. If your tummy feels off about it, say no and don’t look back. Don’t live in the mindset you “need” people to be successful. You only need authenticity and consumers for your product.

As you rise, people will tell you how much they can do for you, that their collaberation will make your work better, that their written forward will boost your sells and more. I disagree. I know authors with forwards by academia who are making nothing on their books because they have no marketing skills. 

Good marketing is what matters. Investing in yourself matters. Your own voice will sell your product. So, think twice before collaberating. And remember, the imagined professional reference you think might endorse your product could also lose you consumers if that professional is not respected. 

 Don’t be afraid to stand alone.

Child Abuse Injuries


These are the days when my childhood haunts me; when my hips ache like they’ve been beaten with a mallet; when my neck goes tight all the way down to my lower back, and the irritation sits deep in my throat. These are the days I hold private, away from the possibilities of careless minds. These are the days I ask why they did that to me as a child, leaving me with sporadic days where my sacrum cries out in pain from the shatters, and I struggle to move myself around, when all I want to do is keep my legs propped up to relieve the pressure from my hips. When physical pain is a result of childhood beatings, and there is no cure, a rage fills you, because you didnt consent to be broken. So I go quiet, and I cry through it, and then I rise the fuck back up.

Children’s Book Review: RASCAL FARMS

I am a lover of children’s books. Amazon’s merge into digital children’s books to accommodate Kindle was a great step in keeping up with fast advancing technology.

When Brad Peterson of Synesthesia Books submitted to my blog for a review of RASCAL FARMS by author, Anderson Atlas, I jumped at the chance to review this publication for children. 

Brad cordially sent over an e-version of RASCAL FARMS, along with a blurb for the book.

“Raccoon, gets tired of hunting. He decides to steal food from a farm nearby. Bear gets in on the action as does Fox, Badger and Owl. But the farm soon runs out of things to steal. The rascals learn how much they hurt the farmers and make amends. They choose to work together for their food by building their own farms and trading with each other.”

I set off with my electronic notebook to have story time and read RASCAL FARMS with my two eldest granddaughters, ages 10 and 6-years old. I thought there could be no better feedback to gain, than that of the children themselves.

RASCAL FARMS is filled with great art. I can only assume that Anderson Atlas is both artist and author since there is no illustrator credited, at least not in the version I was sent.

Colorful and wonderfully symmetrically drawn, Raccoon’s daily life is well depicted in the beautifully created illustrations.

The opening sentence of Brad’s blurb states: “Raccoon, gets tired of hunting.” Yet, the opening line of RASCAL FARMS tells a different story of Raccoon having a hard time finding food in the vast forest, as shown on the first page below.


Raccoon and his family are not the only ones struggling for nutritious food in the forest. In fact, all of Raccoon’s friends are foraging for the scraps that the forest has to offer them.

It so happens one day that Raccoon comes across a lush industrial field, rich with vegetables. He finds a chicken coop where he takes a couple of eggs. He gathers some vegetables and brings them back to Mrs. Raccoon, who is not very happy at the idea of her husband stealing, even for food.

I paused here as I read this to my granddaughters. I was immediately suddenly swept back to being a teenager.

You see, after I left a life growing up in an end-times cult, my family was forced to settle in one of the poorest parts of Martin, TN. We lived in a trailer park across from an industrial farm.

Impoverished and eating government cheese, beans and rice, my sister and I often tiptoed across the road in the night to get a head of cabbage, some carrots, corn or potatoes. It was our only possibility of getting nutrition into our diet as our mother barely scraped by, working two jobs already, just for us to survive and have electricity.

I felt immense empathy for Raccoon. I knew that only those who were poor and had struggled as my family had, could really feel Raccoon and his friends’ dilemma.

My granddaughters couldn’t relate to having to forage for food, as they have been lucky enough not to experience poverty.

Nevertheless, I continued to read on as Mr. Raccoon spills the beans about the farm to his other forest friends, merely wanting to help them be able to get some nutritional food for their families as well.

Soon, all the animals from the forest have pillaged the farm, and the owners are left with nothing, destitute and homeless, losing their farm as the poor and hungry animals have become filled with gluttony and greed, leading them to steal ALL of the farm’s industrial equity. Now, there is no food for anyone, even the farmers, who have been pushed into poverty from the loss.

Raccoon and his friends decide to grow their own gardens. Upon the gardens’ successes, the poor animals return all of the stolen food to the farm and continue to thrive together as a forest community, growing their own food.

They make a pact with the farmer to barter and share foods.  The farmer’s child promises to leave food on the porch in case the animals get hungry. 

As I read, my 6-year-old granddaughter was quite distracted, fidgeting, sighing, looking around as she waited for the story to end. I had to continuously re-direct her back to the story.

My 10-year-old granddaughter remained engrossed in the story, never losing attention.

This observation led me to understand that this book would be more suited for ages 9 and up; children who have passed into a critical thinking age.

To understand the mindset of my grandchildren, they are raised to be free thinkers, to care about the planet and to love themselves. These are the basic tenements of our family. We do not have religious or social leanings. We are of the mindset that all humans deserve the humane right to a comfortable life. If that means we must help others, we are a family willing to do so as we have the means.

When I had finished the book, I asked my eldest granddaughter to give me some feedback on the story. She shrugged, unsure of what to say.

Well, what do you think it’s trying to tell you?” I coaxed her.

Um, not to steal?” She answered, unsure, her eyebrows furrow.

Tell me what you think of the book in general then.” I suggested.

OK.” She sighed. “So, first, animals can’t build gardens so… if they’re starving in the forest they wouldn’t know HOW to build gardens AND if they DID they would have just made a garden FIRST and not have to go to the farmer’s field so… that doesn’t even make sense, but I DO like the art.”

I chuckled a bit to myself as she animated her points with hand gestures. She was assessing the book from a reality based perspective. She was left with the basic understanding that animals can’t create gardens and poor people shouldn’t steal, even if they’re hungry.

Now, to offer an adult perspective of RASCAL FARMS, this book is written metaphorically, and appears to reveal the author’s mindset in regard to social class systems. This mindset is played out with subtlety and would need to be explained to a child by the reader.

I was left with questions for the author. If the intent was to write an objective children’s book, there were so many elements left out.

  • Why didn’t the farmers ever care about the animals who were poor and scrounging for food in the forest in the first place?  
  • Why did it take a bad situation for the farmers to realize the animals were in need?
  • Why didn’t the farmers teach the animals to farm? 
  • Why didn’t the farmers just leave food on the porch for the poor animals from the beginning, instead of only agreeing to do it AFTER a negative situation happened?
  • Why did it take struggle to create a comradeship between the poor animals and the successful farmer?

This book left me with the impression that the author finds poor people who “steal” in order to eat, to be bad people. I had to explain to my granddaughters the unrealistic nature of this book; how restaurants in America throw away tons of food a day and can’t even donate it to the people who starve in our country.

I explained to my granddaughters that most poor people are not lazy, and for the most part, they don’t steal or cause the wealthy to crumble. I did not want my granddaughters left with that impression, as we are a philanthropist family who does not want our children to have a non-empathetic mindset toward those who have life struggles for various reasons.

I reiterated that yes, stealing is bad, and it is also equally negative to ignore our planet and those who suffer on it, as the farmers ignored the animals in the forest in RASCAL FARMS.

I explained that if not the for the forest, the human farmers would have no oxygen, as trees are needed to breathe, and animals provide an intricate part of our eco system. Therefore, the farmer too, was guilty of only caring about themselves.

My granddaughters walked away as soon as I was done, restless to go jump on their trampoline, and seemingly slightly agitated.

This book does not align with a heart of giving and caring about the poor. My granddaughters, being kind hearted girls, were even seemingly put off by the implied, apathetic and even classist victim-blaming message in RASCAL FARMS.

Mr. Atlas would have created greater balance had he incorporated farmer empathy toward the animals, who were so desperate for food they were eating slugs.

Instead, this book implies to a child that poor people steal and can’t think on their own to work hard; that they cripple people who do work hard for their wealth, and therefore poor people owe the rich people they’ve crippled… because poor people steal when they’re in need.

The book doesn’t address whether the forest was farmable or if anyone had ever taught the “animals” to farm. I also find the metaphor of using animals to represent the poor to be offensive. The wealthier and “hard working” class in the book gets to be human.

I was hoping to find a lot of positives in this story. The ideal of bartering and trading doesn’t get presented until after the poor animals are represented as thieves.

This book is geared toward a parent who wants to set a certain mindset in a child, in regard to classes of people. I cannot assume an author’s intent. I can only assess the attempted metaphoric style of this book’s writing.

There are many genre’s of children’s books. I don’t know if there is an Elitist genre’. If there was, this book would fit perfectly inside of it.

I hope Anderson Atlas will write another book and offer a more socially realistic perspective which does not imply the poor people are animals who just steal and pillage hard working people. I also hope to see an illustrator credit, even if it is the author. This is not a book I would buy for my own grandchildren.

Vennie Kocsis is the author of CULT CHILD, an Amazon best-seller in cults and religion in 2016. She is an advocate against child abuse and indoctrination. She is currently writing RISE OF SILA, the sequel to CULT CHILD. Her other publications and art can be explored at VennieKocsis.com

What Happens When We Dissociate?

How does Dissociation work? Is it okay to Dissociate? What happens during Dissociation? So many questions are posed toward the phenomena of trauma Dissociation.

The scientific process of Dissociation is a brilliant function of a human being’s DNA ability. There are many aspects which could be deeply examined in regards to the phenomena of Dissociation.

  1. Where does the DNA brain and body energy go when it leaves?
  2. Is the ability to Dissociate related to how much torture/pain a human can endure?
  3. Can Dissociation be controlled by the carrier?
  4. What happens during the Dissociative process?
  5. Why do some abuse victim’s Dissociate and not others?

In my memoir, CULT CHILD, I go into great detail about my Dissociative memories. These are real experiences which are extremely clear and prevalent in my memory. They have never changed. They have only been verified.

My Dissociation process as a child did not disappear, but instead, evolved as I became an adult. When I begin to feel my energy separate from my body, a myriad of physical signals happen first.

Sounds disappear. My body feels as though it is floating. My heart rate speeds up. I begin to see my current reality in third person perspective, as an outsider looking in. This happens in a matter of seconds. Then in a blink, I am elsewhere in my mind. I, personally, tend to travel to a dimension outside of my current realm.

Because I dissociated so much as a tortured child, it seemed like a natural and smooth transition to evolve the methods I used to transition, into my own meditative states. If my environment is right, I am able to push through the physically uncomfortable Dissociation transition to access differing sectors of my brain. Now, it is a willful and purposeful action.

The most pertitant element has been grounding to insure I am not left with aftermath; that I can come back to my present reality and be able to function at my own current level. Therefore, before using this technique I usually hold an object in my hand.

For me, there are now two types of “Dissociation”. One, emerged out of a childhood fear, fight/flight instinct, which I used as I was universally assisted through surviving cult inflicted torture.

The other would emerge as a flipping of those ritual tools, utilizing the survival abilities of my childhood abuse as newly assistive methods through which I now freely access the other dimension.

So, from my experiences, there is no set answer to the “What happens when you dissociate?” question. There are too many mitigating factors.

  • a human’s level of pain tolerance
  • a human’s mental strength
  • an abuse victim’s environment
  • an abuse victim’s DNA
  • the type of abuse enacted

For instance, my Dissociations found me continuously returning to the seventh realm, as I know it, while another abuse victim I am friends with jumps to a planet within this galaxy. Yet another abuse survivor I know remains on the ceiling, watching the full extent of their abuse. One element I observe in regards to the extent of an ability to control Disaociation seems to also include a human’s personal evolvement. The more evolved human deals with less fear, thereby being able to travel easier.

To answer how one dissociates would be to speak with every abuse victim who has used Dissociation to cope. While our experiences and circumstances are all differing, what we do have in common are the physical signs, as described above.

Possibly, when we master the skill of traveling, not in fearful Dissociation, but in an ability to focus, using Dissociative abilities to access the levels of our own existence, we have come to explore our memories from a place of empowerment.

This takes work. It has taken me years to evolve my methods. I am still evolving them as I am determined to access more of my mind’s caves. It takes being healthy so the body doesn’t fall ill. One must be able to be in a soothing environment to do this work. Because it is emotionally laborious, most Dissociation carriers avoid the exhaustive journey.

Yet, I say that if one chooses to face the layers of their own dissected childhood, that through the exhaustion, tears and haunting images, learning to stay grounded and traveling into Dissociation has been one of my strongest developments.

Vennie Kocsis is a 2016 Amazon best-selling author of CULT CHILD, a memoir detailing her abusive childhood in Sam Fife’s Move of God cult. She is currently writing the sequel, RISE OF SILA.

Creating for Fun Releases Stress

When I create art, it most often represents the mind control programming and abuse enacted on my mind and body while growing up in Sam Fife’s Move of God cult.

When I have the opportunity to create for a child, I get to revisit my own childhood.  I ask questions about the child.  If it’s a child I know,  I take their personality into consideration.  For instance, the little girl receiving this piece is rather silly.  So, recycling an old greeting card with a woman who is wearing a cake hat, is right up this child’s alley.

This is where being a multiple is at a creative advantage for me.  Because my mind sees through gendered lines, I am able to conceptualize what a person may be feeling inside.    It allows me to bring their world perspective into the piece.  Creating for someone else’s heart is a welcomed break which allows my own to rest.

This latest project also afforded me a new opportunity.  I created my first time lapse art video.  Yeah!  I enjoyed being able to watch my own process in action.  I hope you enjoy it as well!

Why You Need To Make This Small Investment In Your Life

I’ve been through some of the worse a child can endure; torture, sexual abuse, child labor and more. Cult life was excruciating, daunting and extremely emotionally isolated.

My healing journal has been difficult as well. Being diagnosed with mental impairments thrust me into shame and despair for a long time.

So, how did I get through? Fifteen years of hard work and a big mirror reflecting back at me.

This brought me to a place of wanting to share my journey with others. One of the excruciating parts of talking to survivors, is how many are alone, can’t afford therapy and are just struggling to be heard.

So, I started a channel where I can listen and share. Through videos and posts, you, the subscriber, can come to understand more about mental health struggles. I am currently doing a video series on Dissociative Identity Disorder.

I am in love with this channel. Subscribers are private unless you choose to comment or openly participate. I can garauntee a constant stream of information and so, so much more.

Click to join:  My Private Channel

Around My City She Sleeps

There are people who learn to trust the streets. I think of their lives, how they have made darkness their day and daylight their night so they can stay alive.

Where is the safe space when the alleys are teeming with the unloved at night, ravaged by the anger in their souls, screaming out their behavior and trying to numb the pain?

I understand why she sleeps in the day, quiet beneath an office building eave, on a porch never used. I watch the employers walk quietly past her, making sure not to wake her as they enter their offices.

This mixture of compassion and hopelessness fills my observation. She is sleeping soundly where she feels safe. Somehow, there is a silent understanding of this, and so she is left to rest.

I wonder of her story, who hurt her heart, body or both. I wonder when she gave up, how old she was and what would make life different for her.

Caught in a moment around my city, I see the humanness of humans. I feel the dance of empathy and indifference from those who walk past. If they let her sleep, they’ve done enough.

And I feel a woman with a ghost story, thankful for a tiny porch and the chance to sleep in quiet, beneath a mound of blankets, escaping reality for a few short hours.

Around my city, she sleeps, the wind weeps and minds escape into dreams.

©venniekocsis.com