Dear Dean Magazine: Issue 5

DEAR DEAN 

M A G A Z I N E 

G U E S T S P O T L I G H T S 

" L E G A C Y O F J A P A N E S E 

I N T E R N M E N T " B Y 

H E A T H E R R E I G H 

V O L . 5 | M A Y . 2 2 , 2 0 2 2 

" F L Y G O A L S " B Y 

K A T Y A J U L I E T 

F E A T U R E D B L O G 

T R I B U T E T O M O T H E R S . . . 

" A B U S R I D E " 

& M U C H M O R E ! 

S U P R E M E 

S U P R E M A C Y 

Roe v Wade, Birth Control & 

A Vasectomy Story... Oh my!

CONTENT 

SUPREME SUPREMACY 

Roe v Wade, Birth Control & 

Vasectomies... oh my! 

TOTM 

A Vasectomy Story 

DEAR DEAN FEATURED BLOG 

"A Bus Ride" 

GUEST SPOTLIGHTS 

Heather Reigh and Katya Juliet Lerner 

MORE GOODIES 

Hit or Miss List, New Podcast "Voice Memos", 

Myron's Bookshop & More! 

DEAR DEAN MAGAZINE | p.2

Hello subscribers! Approaching the second 

half of the year and in this issue we dive into 

Women’s healthcare aka Abortion -- as if our 

cover art wasn’t very clear! 

HELLO FROM MYRON 

I share my own vasectomy story, laying out 

how if men want to control anything we 

should be controlling where procreation 

actually starts. 

We mourn those murdered in Buffalo by a 

white nationalist, and a link out to my recent 

viral blog "We Will In Fact Replace You." 

Guest contributors Heather Reigh tells a story 

of Japanese internment as seen through her 

family’s eyes, and Katya Juliet Lerner shares a 

fresh and creative perspective on goal setting in 

a piece titled "Fly Goals." 

Finally, what is the month of May if we don’t 

pause and talk about our mothers? See my 

tribute in my featured blog, "A Bus Ride." 

And all the rest - What’s Streaming, Hit/Miss, 

and another cool crossword. I hope you enjoy it 

all! 

-MJC

NOW ON SALE 

New Release: Jamaal's Incredible 

Adventures in the Black Church 

Before Jamaal's seventeenth birthday, he’s appointed as his preacher uncle’s 

designated driver and unwilling personal confidant. Behind the fine outfits and 

hats, behind the delicious cooking, Jamaal is exposed to crazy aunties, sexy church 

sisters, corrupt pastors, and predator deacons. A good kid who just wants time to 

finish his homework and kiss a girl his own age, Jamaal is dragged through the 

strange world of the Black church. You best pray for him. 

Order Your Copy Today! 


NOW ON SALE 

New Release: We Couldn't Be Heroes 

Short Story Collection: We Couldn't Be Heroes And Other Stories What if a Black 

man could control the weather, God called 911, or aliens took our souls? Would 

we notice? Would we care?... Enjoy the entire collection, seven stories in all, on 

earth and in space and in any order. 

Order Your Copy Today! 


S U P R E M E 

SUPREMACY

M Y R O N J . C L I F T O N 

"SUPREME COURT ABORTS 

ABORTION RIGHTS" 

"WE WILL IN FACT 

REPLACE YOU" 

In an unprecedented leak of a draft opinion, the 

Supreme Court’s radical Catholics prepared to reach 

back to the GOP glory days of a coat hanger in every 

purse, street and alley “medicine”, and abortion is okay 

if you are wealthy and Uncle John is a doctor. 

Writing for the majority, each of whom is catholic, 

Alito’s 98-page document says there is no 

constitutional basis for abortion, just like there is no 

constitutional basis for marriage for two gay people to 

be married, or that there is any basis in their hallowed 

200-year old document for interracial marriage. 

Predictably the supreme court’s shit hit the 

democratic fan. 

That’s right: it is not *only about abortion or access to 

abortions, but about preserving the white race, aka, 

white supremacy. Make no mistake that the decision is 

about forcing white women and girls to have babies to 

reverse the decades long trend of declining birthrates 

for white women and thus for white America. 

Republicans are close to realizing their party’s dream 

of turning back the clock to the time of burning single, 

older, unattached to a man poor women at the stake. 

The GOP is salivating at the prospect of white women 

as baby-making incubators who have no control or 

agency, who cannot access birth control or any form of 

contraception, and who can be charged for murder if 

they miscarry. 

Your republican family member that you talk to all the 

time is supporting charging doctors who perform 

abortions – including for rape or incest – with murder. 

Your best friend who happens to be a republican 

supports restricting women from traveling to another 

state that allows abortion, and agrees that even if a 

baby is conceived in say, Missouri, then that state can 

charge the mother who gets an abortion with murder 

even if that mother never even lived in the state. 

And your coworker who is republican is okay with 

bounties being placed to capture women who have 

had an abortion. 

When you combine declining white births with the 

growth of the Latino/Hispanic and Black populations, 

you get white supremacists afraid of the inevitable – 

white folk as minority in the country they believe is 

made by and for them, despite the living evidence that 

everyone else represents.... 

Continue reading this blog online >> HERE 

Black, Native, Latino and Hispanic women say to white 

women… welcome to how they’ve lived for the past 

few centuries in an America that is unequal, unfair, 

legally restricted, and medically hostile to them more 

than anyone else. 

The illegitimate “supreme” court is close to fulfilling 

the prayers of the leading misogynistic, racist, antiimmigrant 

organization in the nation – The Heritage 

Foundation.... 

DEAR DEAN MAGAZINE | p.7 

Continue reading this blog online >> HERE

Follow Myron on Twitter! 

TOTM 

Strange there were no protestors outside my doctor’s 

office when I got a vasectomy. I didn’t have to navigate 

any local laws or travel out of state. There were no 

religious pressure in or out of the doctors, or antivasectomy 

pamphlets handed out, no news coverage, 

and no billboards. 

One thing that did surprise me was I was told to wait 6 

months per state rules. I was married at the time and 

my then wife had to sign off on the procedure and the 

wait was designed to make me *really consider what I 

wanted to do. I didn’t know beforehand I would have 

to. 

I don’t know if that’s still the case as this was in 2010 

or 2011 I think. And on second thought they did give 

me a pamphlet- pre surgery preparations. That’s it. 

I decided to have vasectomy because I didn’t want 

more kids & my then wife wanted off birth control for 

health reasons. I had never thought of getting snipped 

& in talking with friends & family and none had the 

procedure, and most were against it for, reasons that 

mostly were male fragile ego related. 

Six months later I showed up and Christine the 

doctor’s assistant gave me a gown & asked me to 

undress. Then she asked if I shaved. 

Surprised, I replied, “wut?” 

She stopped and stared, saying, “You were supposed 

to shave, it was in the pamphlet.” 



TOTM 

Hmm that was 6 months ago I thought, and I had totally 

forgotten. 

He told me to put a bag of frozen peas on it for a few 

hours and not to do any heavy lifting. 

“The doctor will be here in 5 minutes.” Christine said. 

That was it. 

We stared at each other. Then Christine said: I’ll shave 

you. 

So I get on operating table and Christine, who was quite 

good looking, lathers me up and begins shaving my junk 

drawer. 

There was no unprotected sex for a month, or so and I 

had to go to follow-up and deposit sperm in a cup 

again but this time to see if there was still swimmers. I 

was cleared and that was that. 

I am birth-controlled. 

Now, being of a certain age and having someone handle 

my Jessie Williams, back, forth, up, down, repeat repeat 

repeat meant that I showed excitement. 

So I said quietly but in my smoothest voice: “If I’d known 

vasectomies were this fun I’d have come long ago”. 

Well, Christine lost it & laughed loudly. And as my 

hospital is a teaching hospital there were student 

nurses present & they also lost their composure. 

It was a good laugh. 

This easy procedure was NOTHING like women & 

girls have to go through. Not in any way. 

That it can be this easy for men to prevent pregnancy 

and to do so without laws, lobbyists, protests, 

commercials, religious leaders, or posters of crying 

sperm, tells me that it isn’t about religion, saving 

“babies” adoption or sex. 

It’s nothing more than controlling women over 

controlling themselves/men. 

Until the doctor showed up & told us all to pipe down so 

he could work. Then he did. 

I recorded it, too. He sliced me open, pulled the vas 

deferens - which, though I was locally anesthetized, I 

still felt. 

It didn’t hurt but it was uncomfortable. 

Then he snipped it and sauntered the wound close. 



TOTM 

It’s an extension of “Why were you dressed like that, what 

were you wearing, Brock Turner deserves a second 

chance” and, sadly, rape culture. 

While republicans are enacting laws in most states to 

regulate women I’ve yet to see one regulating men, boys, 

teenagers, rapists, traffickers, and the entirety of maledom 

that creates all these problems but who find false 

“solutions” that project all their misogynistic beliefs and 

toxicity on women instead of getting therapy and fixing 

their egos and hatred of women. 

Abortion laws affect all of us and it is important that men 

and those without a uterus also speak up and support 

women’s rights to control their own bodies and make their 

own healthcare decisions based on what they decide in 

privacy. 




Enjoy! 

Click here to PLAY ONLINE 

Click here to Print or Download 



B Y M Y R O N J . C L I F T O N 

A BUS RIDE 

DEAR DEAN 

FEATURED 

BLOG

M Y R O N J . C L I F T O N 

"A Bus Ride" 

It was a mix of dread and anxiety. Excitement and 

embarrassment. And guilt, an emotion I didn’t 

understand in this context feeling this way about my 

mother. 

It was a trip to the doctor with my mother. And it 

wasn’t the doctor that evoked these conflicting and 

overwhelming emotions and my first feelings of guilt 

about letting down my mother. And perhaps the 

strongest emotion though was the feeling of 

impending separation from her. 

From my mother. 

I never wanted to separate from her nor to be apart 

from her in any way, then and now. And yet on this 

day as a twelve year old I was actively planning to be 

apart from her for the first time in my young life. I 

made this moment into a big moment. A huge 

moment. And it became bigger since the week before 

when my mother told me we were going to the 

doctor. 

I still bear the scars from those injuries - one just 

above my hairline and two more above my eyes and 

within my eyebrows. I still touch them now and then to 

remind myself that these were MY injuries. Injuries 

not inflicted by the monster. 

On this visit to the doctor I was going for a routine 

checkup and my mom, as usual, was taking me. I was 

happy for our alone time. I was always happy for our 

alone time. I never wanted her to spend time with 

anyone else - not even my siblings - but just with me. I 

was terribly jealous anytime she talked to anyone. To 

see her laugh and have fun talking with her friends or 

her family brought me joy and jealousy. I wanted her 

attention, ALL of it, all the time. I was never happy 

without her attention so on those occasions she was 

busy I stayed close and just watched her. 

She’d smile at me or touch my arm or head as she 

walked by, acknowledging me and giving me enough 

life to wait her out. I’d just stay close. Sometimes I’d 

stare until she told me to stop. But most of the time I’d 

act occupied - a book, or newspapers, or a dictionary - 

while sneaking peeks at her when I thought she wasn’t 

watching. 

It wasn’t the doctor that I feared. I’d been to the So when she told me she was taking me to the doctor, 

doctor many times before with my mother, for both just the two of us, I was at first happy that we would 

her appointments and mine. Mine were regular get our alone time. And the fact that we were riding a 

check-ups and normal visits as a result of normal kid bus meant that we’d have time to walk to bus stop; 

activities and kid type injuries. My injuries were wait for the bus; ride the bus and walk to the hospital; 

always to my head though. 

time waiting for the doctor, and then the chance to do 

it all again on our way home. I’d get all that time with 

Once I fell off a fence and onto my head and I was her to myself. I’d be happy. But I wasn’t. 

knocked out. Another time I was knocked out by my 

oldest brother swinging a baseball bat. It was an As the day of the appointment approached my 

accident. And another time I ran into edge of an problems amplified to the point that I fought my 

opened door. Each time my head was split open with internal self’s desire to not go and to not be alone with 

blood flowing and me either knocked out and semiconscious. 

her. 


A B U S R I D E C O N T . 

It was the first time I had ever actively thought that I 

didn’t want to be alone with her, and my conflict 

made it impossible to sleep during the last two days 

leading up to the doctor’s visit. 

On the day of the trip to the doctor I dressed slowly 

while not thinking about what was soon to come. I 

tried not thinking about it but it was there twirling 

around my head despite my efforts to block it. 

We had a light breakfast and then it was time to 

leave. We walked out and headed toward the bus 

stop which was just two blocks away. We were early 

- mom was always early - and so we walked at a good, 

but not fast, pace. 

She made small talk and I felt her warm hands as she 

held my hand as she always did. I felt her power and I 

accepted it all. I fed from her and I drank deeply to 

calm myself. Her energy always overwhelmed me 

and I loved her for it. Her soft hands gently squeezed 

when she made a point, or she moved our hands in a 

gesture to point something out for me to look at. She 

was in control of my hands, and my heart, and I was 

part of her. 

I loved her so much. 

The bus slowed in front of us and mom got on first 

and I followed her steps onto the AC Transit bus, 

watching as she deposited the coins for our ride. She 

said hello to the driver and he said hello back, and 

said something to me. But I wasn’t listening because 

now was the moment. 

Mom walked to a seat about four rows in on the left 

side and sat down. I was right behind her as she sat 

and then as she motioned me to sit I walked by. I 

walked two more rows behind her and on the other 

side of the bus and then I sat down. I had done it. I was 

sitting by myself and not with my mother. 

I was old enough to sit alone on the bus and I didn’t 

want anyone to see me sitting by my mother because 

at my age I shouldn’t have to sit with my mother on a 

bus. I was old enough to sit alone I told myself over 

and over during the week leading up the this very trip. 

Now that I had actually done it I didn’t know what to 

think or say. But mom did. 

She looked back and said to me “Oh, you’re too big to 

sit with your mommy now, huh?” 

I just stared back in that weird kid way of staring at an 

adult where in my mind I was telling her how much I 

loved her and how afraid I was and how scared I was 

and how I didn’t want to be embarrassed to sit by my 

mom but I wanted to be old enough to sit alone and I 

didn’t want any friends to see me sitting near the front 

of the bus with my mom because they’d tease me at 

school and this was a school day so no kids were on 

the bus but it didn’t matter because I was old enough 

to sit alone and by myself and further back than mom 

did because that’s where the boys sat on the school 

bus and and and. 

But I said nothing. I just stared for five seconds. 

Mom broke the silence and said “Okay, that’s fine.” 

That was it. That’s all she said! 


A B U S R I D E C O N T . 

Was she mad? Was she hurt or surprised or angry or 

what? What was she feeling and why wouldn’t she 

tell me. The thirty minute ride was torture as I 

watched her from an angle and she never looked 

back at me. To be this close and not be at her center 

was worse than when she was with friends or family. 

She was within reach and nothing stopped me from 

touching her or talking to her. She was so beautiful in 

the morning light, at this angle, and her profile. 

But I didn’t say a word because I was afraid of 

everything: Her response; any kid seeing me; and my 

need to be a “big boy” and not be seen as a momma’s 

boy. 

Finally we arrived at our stop. Mom had rang the bell 

- in those days one pulled a wire that ran the length 

of the bus above the seats to indicate to the driver to 

stop at the approaching bus stop. 

When the bus stopped, mom got up, looked back and 

said “Come on” in her typical quiet voice and direct 

approach. I got up and we walked the block to the 

doctor’s office. 

She didn’t grab and hold my hand though. She always 

grabbed and held my hand. But not this time. I guess I 

really was a big boy now. I was miserable. 

The bus came and I was numb and unafraid because I 

had caused mom to no longer see me as her baby boy. I 

was still her baby boy and I wasn’t ready to be older. 

I was so mad at myself but it was all my fault. 

Mom paid and took her seat right about at the same 

place on the bus as she did when we were on our way 

to the hospital. I watched her sit down and as she put 

her bag down she looked at me and said “Come sit by 

momma." 

It was a request; a statement; a demand; and most of 

all, an opportunity. 

I smiled and said “Okay,” and sat next to her. I was so 

happy again. 

The seats were close but not close enough for me so I 

moved over so our legs were touching. Mom looked 

down at me and confidently placed her left hand on my 

right hand. I turned my hand over and held on to her 

hand. 

And I told myself I’d never be a big boy to her and I’d 

never let go of her hand. I’d hold it every day if I could 

and feed off her energy and love. 

I held her hand all the way home. 

We visited my doctor and all went well. We had a 

snack and then after waiting for a bit we exited the 

hospital and headed back to the bus stop. Mom didn’t 

grab my hand. Again. 

© 2022 by Dear Dean Blog & Myron J. Clifton. All 

Rights Reserved. 

I’d hoped she had forgotten and things would go back 

to normal, but my entire world seemed to have 

changed and it was all my fault. 


H E R L E G E N D L I V E S I N Y O U 

"A beautifully written story that opens 

your eyes to other possibilities to how the 

world was created. There is so much to 

take in, you can’t just read it once to 

reveal all the hidden messages." 

Her Legend Lives In You: 

The Untold Creation Story Honoring The 

Goddess And Our Daughters. 

Available on

D E A R D E A N 

GUEST SPOTLIGHT 

"Legacy of Japanese 

Internment" 

W R I T T E N B Y 

Heather Reigh


Everyone of us have these moments of time that sort of 

stay suspended forever in our minds. Moments we 

carry for the rest of our lives. It can be a milestone or a 

moment of historical significance. Or even those 

moments that break our hearts, change the way we 

have to move forward, like an unexpected family death 

or the unveiling of a family secret. 

One of mine was learning about the Japanese 

Internment. I am 11. I'm sitting in my middle school 

social studies class. I can remember my head snapping 

up, quick and fast at the words "...and there was even 

an internment camp here for Japanese Americans 

during World War II" 

I shot my hand up "Ms. W, can you say that again? 

She repeated the earlier statement and while I didn't 

quite process or understand what exactly she meant, I 

was very interested in what she had to say. I had never 

ever heard of Japanese Internment during World War 

II. What did that mean? The teacher moved on but I 

was stuck with this statement, thinking about it all. 

I remember coming home and mentioning the 

interaction to my mother. She immediately says " oh 

yea I think my mum was in one of those" I was stunned. 

I always knew there was something off about my 

grandma. She would sometimes have these outbursts 

where she would yell and be very angry and fearful. I 

thought every grandma was like this. My mother then 

explained that my grandmother was sent to the camp, 

while living in Victoria B.C. 

She was sent to the camps because, even though she 

was born in Canada, her father was born in Japan. The 

anti-Japanese sentiment from the bombing of Pearl 

Harbour spread from America and President 

Roosevelt's EO 9906 to Canada and South America 

with hundreds of thousands of people of Japanese 

descent being put in camps and identified as enemies 

of the state. 

I had so many questions. I knew my grandma was 

kooky but I had no idea about any of the rest of the 

story and I wanted to know more. Unfortunately most 

of those questions will remain unanswered. She has 

refused to talk about her time in the camps. 80 years 

of silence. I can't even imagine how awful of an 

experience that must have been. 

The moment wove into my being. I just could not 

reconcile my grandma. The grandma that sewed my 

Halloween costumes? The one who always took us on 

trips in the Winnebago? The same grandma that 

helped to raise me? That person? Why? Why her? 

It just never made sense. 



From that moment on, I would think about this 

information constantly. She was a Canadian citizen. 

She wasn't a Japanese citizen or an enemy of the state, 

she was 14 years old. What threat was she? 

But she had the face of the threat. And that was all that 

mattered. 

relationships beget damaged relationships. Unstable 

mothers create unstable daughters who become 

mothers. 

And it just trickles little by little. 

My grandmother is 92. She will be 93 in June 2022. 

And then she gave her face to me. 

Once I put those two things together, I became very 

aware of it. That ppl looked at her face, the slant in her 

eyes, the thick black hair in the required Asian girl 

haircut (if you know, you know) 

She is slowly fading and losing memory and sense of 

time. She sometimes goes back to that time of trauma 

and I can feel her fear. As she forgets where she is, she 

asks in a small quiet voice "where am I going?" And I 

worry she is mentally back in that time and that she is 

scared. 

They looked at that and saw a threat? Well how would 

they look at me then? If this were to happen now, in 

modern times? 

The anxiety that these camps have put on our family is 

just another part of the generational trauma that 

trickles down from this act of internment. We wonder, 

what if it happens again? 

My grandmother has had episodes for decades since. 

She was unable to parent her own daughter due to her 

own PTSD, which was definitely not being diagnosed in 

the 1950s. 

Especially not for a post World War II Japanese 

woman. You just stuff it down and try to fit in so they 

don't put you in the camp again. You become obsessed 

with how dark everyone looks. How proper everyone 

looks. No passing down of anything Japanese. She 

takes the culture of her Ukrainian husband and never 

looks back. Losing the Japanese culture, to feel safe. 

Except it still followed. It still trickled down. Damaged 

Learning about these camps forged my path to my 

studies, my daily work, and my interests. Everything 

and anything that could just explain the why. What 

would make people do this? How can we make sure it 

never happens again? As EO9906 was written, my own 

grandchildren, who will be 1/16th Japanese, would be 

enough to be taken. Therefore you spend your whole 

life wondering, would they put me in a camp? Would 

this person? Or would they turn away if they saw us 

being shuffled off like so many in Victoria B.C did 

when they took my grandma? 

If her citizenship couldn't save her, can mine? Where is 

this line? 

As I've gotten older and watched, especially the last 20 

years unfold, I've learned that the answer to those 

burning questions is, in far too many cases, YES. 

Yes, they would. Would you stop them? 

I often think about the legacy of these camps. I wish 

the shame of the camps was gone. 



I wish that my grandmother didn't have to lose her own 

culture to feel safe. I am one of many grandchildren of 

camp survivors who have the face and not the culture. I 

wish we talked more about the damage these camps did to 

our families and our sense of belonging. 

I've tried to get my grandma to talk about it for decades 

now. She has remained somewhat silent, minus a few 

details such as where the camp was. But never will I get 

the full story, her full story. It's just too traumatic, I 

suppose. 

I've come to accept this. This is our legacy of the Japanese 

Internment. This is the story. The silence, the loss of 

culture, the episodes. I will fight to reclaim as much 

culture as I can but I also know that's just the way it 

trickled down for us. 

Teruyo ``Pauline" Asano is the name my grandmother was 

given. She was interned in Greenwood B.C. Canada. Her 

story is part of the Asian-America history. It deserves to 

be acknowledged and her story, and many others deserve 

to be heard. 

Follow Heather on Twitter! 


MYRON'S 

HIT OR MISS 

list 

You will either LOVE or HATE being on 

this list. It's time to call out the good, 

bad and the ugly as it happened on 

Twitter. We saw it live with our own 

eyes, and now it's time to review the 

best and the worst... saddle up! 

HIT 

America celebrated Mother’s 

Day with the usual pomp and 

flair, flowers, and chocolate. 

MISS 

Republicans went on attack 

against girls, women, mothers, 

as they sought to make all 

abortions illegal. 


HIT 

Midterm Elections have started, and Dems are 

looking good. 

MISS 

Early turnout in the critical state of Pennsylvania 

was very low. 

HIT 

President Biden invoked the Defense Protection 

Act to increase production of baby formula, and 

authorize use of federal airplanes to fly-in formula 

from overseas. 

MISS 

Every republican voted against bill that would ensure 

access to baby formula amid shortage. 

HIT 

Baseball is back – the boys of summer are in the 

swing of things! 

MISS 

Good god the season is 162 games long! Cut it in 

half and make baseball exciting again. 

HIT 

A partial eclipse of the moon, combined with a 

blood moon, had sky lookers thrilled. 

MISS 

Popular scientist Neil DeGrasse Tyson, dampened 

everyone’s enthusiasm while shrugging, “It ain’t all 

that.” 


MY FAVORITE THINGS 

STREAMING RIGHT NOW... 

Paramount+ 

HALO. Season 1 of the series based on the popular 

video game. Good multifaceted storytelling, above 

average special effects, and world-building that is quite 

impressive. 

Netflix 

Selling Sunset. The women are back for season 5 + 

reunion show. It is trashy, glitzy, flashy, petty, and easy 

on the eyes. The women show off.. expensive 

southern California estates that sell from two to fortymillion 

dollars. And they battle one-another with 

multiple threads of interpersonal issues, marriages, 

divorces, babies, loss, and love. 

HULU 

Hunter Hunter. A bonkers thriller that slow burns to a 

shocking and wholly unexpected conclusion that will 

have you wanting to either immediately rewatch it, or 

question why you watched it in the first place. 

HBO 

Doom Patrol. The comic book “heroes” that are 

comical, bad at being heroes, and who deal with 

weirdness that’s obscure and… weird, is on its fourth 

season and still going strong and wrong. Part hippytrippy, 

part therapy for various mental health issues, 

and part 12-step recovery. 

Disney + 

Continuing on the theme of superheroes and mental 

health, Moon Knight showed that Marvel/Disney are 

unafraid to look at the mental health of superheroes 

again after doing so very acutely with WandaVision 

and The Falcon and Winter Soldier. Moon Knight has 

Dissociative Identity Disorder that is made worse by 

an Egyptian god who inhabits his body. 

The god experiences all of Mark Specter’s personas. 

The story is all over the place, befitting the internal 

struggles Mark is going through trying to figure out 

what is happening. 


FLY 

GOALS 

W R I T T E N B Y 

Katya Juliet Lerner 

We have all heard of SMART goals but have you 

heard about FLY Goals? Probably not, since it’s 

something I thought up - but I think it just might be 

what many of us need right now... 

But first — Why are goals so important? There is 

nothing better than the feeling of inspiration and 

excitement about a new goal or idea. Aside from the 

delight in finally achieving it. Without goals, it 

becomes much harder to achieve your dreams, no 

matter how big or small. 

Let’s back track for a moment. What is a goal? 

“A goal is the object of a person’s ambition or effort; 

an aim or desired result.” 

5. Goals help you find your purpose. 

6. Goals help you celebrate success and milestones. 

7. Goals help you uncover hidden strengths. 

8. Goals help you identify and overcome obstacles in 

your way. 

9. Goals help you evolve and grow. 

10. Goals help you achieve things you never thought 

possible. 

Remember SMART goals? 

Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, and Timely. 

I have always been a huge fan of utilizing this method 

of goal setting when it comes to coaching and sales. 

Here are 10 reasons why setting goals are important: 

1. Goals help you stay focused. 

2. Goals help you measure your progress and results. 

3. Goals help you avoid the pitfalls of distraction and 

procrastination. 

4. Goals help you stay motivated. 


K A T Y A J U L I E T L E R N E R 

But when it comes to your life’s dream or a big risk, I 

think it’s critical to push yourself beyond SMART goal 

reasoning and practice what I like to call, FLY goals. 

SMART goals play it safe. They make you ask if 

something is realistic or achievable. But when it 

comes to our biggest hopes and dreams many people 

would get to that step and begin to doubt themselves. 

FLY goals force you to take that leap of faith. 

“Set a goal that makes you want to 

jump out of bed in the morning.” 

Goal setting as a consistent behavior is powerful on 

its own, but FLY goals will help you take it all to the 

next level as you work towards building your best 

self. 

You have a dream. A spark. An idea. You want to start 

a business. Take a huge risk. These are all moments in 

your life when basic goals and smart goals can begin 

to stifle you, as self-doubt and fear settle in. That’s 

why you need to set goals using the FLY goal test. 

WHAT ARE FLY GOALS? FLY stands for: 

F – Fiercely 

L – Loving 

Y – Yourself 

You set a goal. A big one. A passionate one. 

Now, make sure it passes the FLY goal test... 

Is this a goal that was made fiercely, staring your 

fear in the face and saying “no way, not today!” 

and setting out to make it happen? 

Is this a goal that supports the love you have for 

yourself, your self-worth and your confidence? 

Is this a goal that pushes you to become your best 

self? Are you pumping yourself up with YOLO’s and 

You Go Girls (or boys) and saying YES! 

Fiercely Loving Yourself. It doesn’t always come easily. 

We are our own worst critics. We love the day dream 

and hype but in order to make it our reality we must 

force ourselves to become much stronger; take bigger 

risks and push ourselves to withstand the inevitable case 

of self-doubt waiting seeping in. 

Fiercely Loving Yourself. It’s what separates you from 

those who do not chase their dreams. It’s the difference 

between inviting value and honor into your daily life and 

just settling. 

Without active goals setting in our lives (and revisiting 

and revamping them along the way), we risk losing our 

passions or purpose. 

SMART goals are helpful but may be too narrow a scope 

for some. Never limit yourself by applying the wrong 

model to what might be the most important decision of 

your life. 

Whether it’s trying something new, getting back into 

something old, or simply working on your state of mind, 

goals will keep you honest and on track. Add FLY goals 

into the equation and they will take you to the next 

level. 

So, what makes you feel inspired and excited? What 

makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning? 

What makes you want to FLY? 

DEAR DEAN MAGAZINE | p.25 

Follow Katya on Twitter!

“BLM-PD IS A PAGE TURNER! GREAT CHARACTERS, VIVID 

VISUALS & WRITING THAT BRINGS EMOTIONS. 

LOVE THE BOOK AND THE FACT THAT IT ALSO PROVIDES 

REAL-LIFE EXAMPLES OF WHAT IS HAPPENING IN OUR 

WORLD TODAY. LOVE THE FEMALE PERSPECTIVE 

THROUGH LEADERSHIP, INTELLIGENCE, RESILIENCE, 

FRIENDSHIP & POWER." 

R E V I E W , B L M - P D

NEW PODCAST 

V O I C E 

M E M O S 

CATCH 

UP 

TPDAY! 

CLICK TO MEET 

THE HOSTS! 

MYRON 

JENN 


M y r o n J . C l i f t o n i s s l i g h t l y o l d e r t h a n f i f t y , l i v e s i n S a c r a m e n t o , 

C a l i f o r n i a , a n d i s a n a v i d B a y A r e a s p o r t s f a n . H e l i k e s c o m i c b o o k s , 

t e l l i n g s t o r i e s a b o u t h i s l a t e m o m t o h i s b e l o v e d d a u g h t e r L e a h , a n d 

t a l k i n g t o h i s f r i e n d s . 

W E B S I T E | B O O K S H O P | T W I T T E R 

NEW! 

I N P A R T N E R S H I P W I T H 

B U Z Z W O R D C O N S U L T I N G 

D E A R D E A N M A G A Z I N E I S D E S I G N E D & C U R A T E D 

Katya Juliet Lerner 

I N T E R E S T E D I N A D V E R T I S I N G ? 

Send an email to words@deardeanpublishing.com 


Advertisement 

Advertisement 

Advertisement 

Advertisement 

Advertisement 

Advertisement

DID YOU KNOW? 

About 6,000 lightning strikes 

happen on Earth per minute?

Dear Dean Magazine: Issue 5

Create successful ePaper yourself

Delete template?

Save as template?