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Friday, October 29, 2010

I like TV. I can't help it.

So I wanted to sneak a blog post in. But hope you're not expecting anything profound. But then again, maybe you're already used to not seeing anything profound when you find your way here. Either way I've got 3 papers coming up...profound is on its way. ha.

So I'm a little obsessive. If I read a book that I like, I suddenly find I have to read everything that that author ever wrote. If I see a TV show, and there is something about it that makes me LOVE IT. I watch it OVER and OVER and OVER again. I have a few obsessions, as you may already know. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Supernatural, just to name a few.

Today I'm going to enlighten you on my top 5 favorite TV shows. I know you probably couldn't care less, but what else is a blog for, but forcing your psychosis on all of your friends?


5. True Blood
I read the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris long before True Blood premiered on HBO, and honestly and not surprisingly the books are better. Being HBO they upped the sex and violence 10 fold. But I can't deny the sheer entertainment value. And to be fair they stay mostly with the storyline that I loved in the books. The supporting characters get their own storyline in the show and they come to VIVID life in the TV series.



4. Smallville:
I don't know if you know about my secret obsession with men who wear nerd glasses. Every time I see a man in big black socially awkward glasses I fall in love just a little bit. I can't wait till Superman gets his glasses full time.

As a show, I find it fascinating to see the Superhero that we know and love grow from an awkward 15 year old, working with super powers he doesn't know or understand.

And lets not forget Lex Luthor. Great villain. interesting to see his descent into darkness as well.

But I'd keep watching for years just to get a glimpse of Tom Welling in those glasses!





3. Dexter:
How Awesome do you have to be to write a serial killer that we can all root for. Than you Jeff Lindsay! Dexter was found in a storage shed when he was 3 years old covered and sitting in a pool of his mothers blood. The police officer who found him adopted him. Recognizing that Dexter was showing signs of being a sociopath, someone who cannot feel emotionally like the rest of us, his father decided to control the impulse instead of deny that it was there. He taught Dexter how to fake it in society and how to pick his victims. Murders and rapists that had somehow slipped through the cracks in the justice system.

Each episode builds and builds and builds, getting more intense, with Dexter having more to loose, until the final episode of the season that always leaves you tingling, sometimes with your mouth hanging open and wishing you could skip the summer just to see what happens next.

I haven't actually read the books yet, but they are definitely on my list.




2. Supernatural:
What can I say about this show? As if looking at the boys wasn't even to make you watch, they've got that bad ass car. And then there are the monsters which are actually scary enough to give you the wiggins. Seriously!

The show is also about family ties. The bond between the two brothers is touching and a little crazy. Not to mention that its the most quotable show in the world. For example: Sam: Dude, you're confusing reality with porn again, or PUDDING! or "Oh my God, I'm Pattinson!" And then there's that time when Dean screams like a girl "That was scary!" Or "The whistle makes me their god! I could go on and on but its better if you watch for yourself.



1. Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel
Last but definitely not least. Everything about this show is sheer genius.

This is also a monster of the week show, but each monster represents something real that teenagers go through. The idea that High School is hell is definitely something that I can relate to.

The characters are unique: they have their own way of dressing, and their own dialogue.

Its also the only show that can make me laugh and cry in the same episode. The only show that can do a musical episode and make it work (before Glee came along, of course) The only show that can have an episode of television with more than half of the episode without dialogue. And the only show that can make you feel SO intensely without the help of background music. Joss Whedon can create an episode that is completely in dream sequences of the main characters.

The main characters make mistakes, and when they do, they have to pay for them.

The things that man can do with the power of words. But don't take my word for it. You have to see to believe.

Check them out if you've got a little spare time. Tell me what you think.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

The Road to Lost Innocence

So I just finished my first week of school, and despite problems with financial aide and my lack of books, I think it went pretty well.

There's a lot to do and its a little overwhelming, but in a good way. Im working toward a goal and Im such a nerd that I actually enjoy my classes. I forgot how much I love psychology.

I'm having to repeat some classes since the first time around I didn't take it as seriously as I should have, (let this be a lesson!) so Im taking freshman English, which I kinda find ironic.

We're reading this book called "The Road to Lost Innocence," by Somaly Mam. The book is a autobiographical account of her life in Cambodia. I can't tell you how much this book affected me.

Somaly Mam is the name this woman picked for herself. She can't remember the name she was born with or her biological parents. For a long time she was an orphan living off help from the village she lived in until a man came and took her in. He in turn sold her into prostitution to pay off his debts.

I can turn to any page and find a quote that leaves me horrified. The world she describes is so very different from where I live, it almost doesn't seem real. It would be easier if it weren't.

"Ideally in Cambodia, a woman walks so quietly you can't hear her footsteps. She smiles without showing her teeth and laughs softly. She never looks directly into the eyes of any man. A woman must not talk back to her husband. She must not turn her back to him in bed. She must bow before she touches his head, and if she walks over his legs she will become ill. In Cambodia, you must respect and care for your parents, and your husband is your master-second only to your father."

It was bad enough that this was the life she led before the prostitution, but what is even more horrifying is the fact that this is a common practice. Parents and gradnparents who find themselves in debt will use their daughters to pay off their debts. "I can truly say that I think that for many parents, feelings have nothing to do with it. Their children are money on legs, an asset, a kind of domestic livestock."

As if being raped repeatedly by dozens of different men on a daily basis wasn't bad enough sometimes the clients tortured the girls for their own pleasure, beating them and cutting them. If the girls showed any insubordination, they were punished.

"I think that was when Li discovered something I was really afraid of. He was scientific about punishment; he wanted us compleltey cowed. He must have realized I wasn't terrorized by the basement room, because when I was taken down there I didn;t scream helplessly like the other girls. I just glared at guards and thought about how one day I would kill them. I always tried not to show pain, because I didn't want to give them the pleasure.

But one night Li dumped a bucket of live maggots on me. Hideous maggots, like the ones on meat. When he realized how much they frightened me, he began dumping them into my mouth and on my body while I was sleeping. I thought they would make their way inside me, into my body. That's what I have nightmares about, even now."

In cambodia, young girls sell oranges in the park. For the price of an orange a man can do whatever he wishes to girls as young as six years old. Men in Cambodia pay a lot of money for virgins. They believe that having sex with a virgin will cure you of AIDS.

Today, Somaly Mam runs a nonprofit organization dedicated to ending sexual slavery and giving victims a chance at a new life. She takes social workers and police into the brothels and rescues the victims. She provides shelter for the victims she rescues and teaches them a trade so that they don't have to find themselves in brothels again. She speaks to men in cambodia about the effects of prostitution and what the brothels are really like. English is her fourth language. She has received the World Children's Prize for the Rights of the Child, in Sweden, the Roland Berger Award for Human Dignity in Germany, and in Washington D.C. she was honored at the Vital Voices 2009 global leadership Awards.

At first she didn't do anything but speak up, and pass out a few condoms. She has been threatened with death. She's had a gun to her head. Her own daughter was kidnapped by one of the brother owners and was missing for 3 days. They wanted her to stop talking.

I feel helpless, the situation is bigger than me. but I can speak up.

Today, I urge you to look around you. You have a home, your children are protected. You married a man of your choosing. Today I urge you to forget the little things, the bills you can't pay, the arguement that you had last night. Forget the rude words of your mothers, your fathers, your brothers and sisters, and be thankful. Thankful that we may not have money today, but we have a job. We have hope. Thankful that even in arguements we have a voice. And no matter what relationship we have with our parents, in most cases, they wouldn't sell us into slavery for the price of a US quarter.

Wives make love to your husbands. Relish the fact that for us, sex is a beautiful thing, an expression of our deeper feelings, an expression of our love for one another, and an expression of ourselves.

If you'd like to know more about Somaly Mam, you can check out her website www.somaly.org. or come see her when she speaks at WTAMU on Thurdsay, October 7, at 5 pm at the first United Bank Center in Canyon.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

I snuck a few extra lines in, but they were too good to pass up. From Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon:

"Murtagh was right about women. Sassenach,I risked my life for ye, committing theft, arson, assault, and murder into the bargain. In return for which ye call me names, insult my manhood, kick me in the ballacks and claw my face. Then I beat you half to death and tell ye all the most humiliating things have ever happened to me, and you say ye love me." He laid his head on his knees and laughed some more. Finally, he rose and held out a hand to me, wiping his eyes with the other.

"You're no verra sensible, Sassenach, but I like ye fine. Let's go."


Sassenach, meaning Outlander, is a term used by the Scottish to refer to the British. If I understand correctly its not exactly a term used in polite company. I like how Jamie uses it as an endearment.

And my two lines:

A sudden sense of urgency woke me much faster than the light in my face and I stood quickly, throwing my book to the ground.
I heard the clatter of the gun hitting the rotted boards of the porch and tried not to look so scared.


Don't forget to check out more lines at women of mystery!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Two Line Tuesday...

It's Tuesday. You know what to do. And don't forget to check out what other people contributed at Women of Mystery!

My two lines:

How long would it take me to be die of starvation or thirst? How long would I have to wander in this desert?

Outlander By Diana Gabaldon.

This is the second time I'm reading this series. The romance is completely engrossing but not half as engrossing as all the very precise Scottish History. And you know how I love men in kilts!

The two semicircles passed each other at increasing speeds, sometimes forming a complete circle, sometimes a double line. And in the center, the leader stood stock-still, giving again and again that mournful, high-pitched call, in a language long since dead.

A little late

My 3 word wednesday is finally up for last week... sorry it was a little late.

A Vague disclaimer is no one's friend:

These 3 word wednesday's are first drafts. I didn't even do spell check. I've banned myself from editing for at least a year. That is all.


It was a feeble attempt at humor.
His soft chuckle faded into silence when he noticed my smile didn’t quite reach my eyes.
I could see the burn in his cheeks as he cleared his throat.
This date had been a horrible idea. I told Melissa that it was a horrible idea. I didn’t even know why I bothered, except that I had been close to a year since anyone has asked me out.
Adam nervously adjusted his tie and leaned toward me.
His arms fell across the tablet and he scooted his chair closer.
Miss manners would be so proud.
“So, Melissa tells me that you work for a construction company. That’s interesting.”
“Uh, huh.”
Adams eyes fell to the table. I didn’t think his cheeks could get any more red, but here they were blossoming into an embarrassing shade of magenta all over again.
I stared at my drink, untouched in its glass. The ice settled, the tink, tink of it loud in the silence.
The waiter brought our food.
Italian. How original.
He straightened but didn’t touch his food, as if he were waiting for me to begin.
I twirled my fork around the plate, hoping it was obvious that I wasn’t interested. I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable under the force of his stare.
“Look, lets just get this out of the way,” he said. “I have no idea if I’ll call you tomorrow. I don’t have any expectations of leaving here and taking you back to my place-I don’t think this is going to be the first day of the rest of my life.”
And maybe I’m way off base here, but I can see that its been a long time since you’ve worn anything but seats or left you house for anything but I don’t know, work and grocery shopping.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me-“
“I wasn’t finished..” He grabbed his beer and reclined back into his seat. He held the bottle with two fingers, his hands hanging limply over his thigh.
All of my righteous indignation was eclipsed by the shock Id felt at having someone talk to me.
I opened my mouth to say something but the words wouldn’t come.
“Wouldn’t it be wise of you to give this half a chance, to be open to the possibilities that I might call you tomorrow. I might take you home tonight-that you might enjoy, and that this might be the first day of the rest of your life?”
Wouldn’t it be nice enjoy a fee meal, a glass of wine, and the company of a relatively nice guy? Even if we never see each other again, instead of guaranteeing that before long you’ll be a bitter old woman who can only tolerate the company of her cats?”
Even I couldn’t predict a future that grim for myself.
It took me a moment to recover from the backlash. My throat closed up and I could feel tears springing up in my eyes. But then I relaxed. My arms, like an iron vise across my chest released their hold, fell to my side. I scooted my chair closer to the table.
I raised my fork to my mouth and the taste of garlic and butter, tomatoes and peppers exploded in my mouth. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d tasted food this good. (I couldn’t remember a time when I’d tasted anything but TV dinners and hot pockets.)
Adam took a bite of his food, and relaxed against the back of his seat, a casual laziness that didn’t quite go with his suit. “Atta girl,” he said, and smiled.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

Two lines from the novel (novella) I'm reading now, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, by Stephanie Meyer.

He was the hottest boy I'd ever seen, tall and blonde and perfect, every feature. I knew his eyes must be just as beautiful behind the dark sunglasses that he never took off.

And my two lines:

But, much like the subtle shifting from day into night, my exhilaration soon turned to exhaustion. I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and my foot on the pedal getting lighter.

Check other two lines at the women of mystery blog.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

3 Word Wednesday

This is my first attempt at 3 Word Wednesday, and I love it. Let me know what ya'll think.

Abuse
Cramp
Hatred

The hatred I felt often manifested itself in a physical way.

Whenever he walked into the room, my stomach would cramp up. It wasn't something I could ignore, either. Though the thought of him witnessing the effect he had on me literally made me want to committ murder. I usually spent most of my morning imagining where I'd do it, and how I could take his life in the most imaginative way possible.

And I had a lot of imagination.

I would be making his coffee in the morning and he'd sneak in, late as usual, with that shit eating grin that made everyone think he'd spent the night doing God knows what, with God knows who.

I could see it on the faces of everyone in the office.

I grabbed my stomach as he passed me by, not even bothering to acknowledge that I existed. I closed my eyes and breathed in the musky smell of his cologne, wanting him, and at the same time wishing him a slow and painful death.

My stomach twisted again.

I adjusted my glasses, brushed the wispy hair that never quiet stayed in my braid out of my face.

I walked slowly, careful to not slosh his coffee.

Of course right when I turned the corner into his office, my foot caught on a wrinkle in the carpet. I felt the mug slip from my hands, the hot brown liquid flying through the air onto his ridiculously expensive rug.

I felt the flames rising up my neck to burn my cheeks and my ears. I braced myself for the inevitable abuse I'd no doubt be receiving.

For what felt like hours, all I heard was silence. I couldn't move, refusing to look at him.

His fingers digging into the soft flesh of my upper arm brought me out of my paralysis.

He jerked me to the door, throwing me off balance.

As if I needed his help!

I tripped again as he dragged me out the door and into the secretaries office.

He gave another jerk on my arm, forcing me into the spotlight.

Amused eyes watched us from each of the 10 cubicles. Some were trying not to laugh. Some of them didn't bother trying to hide it.

The horrible realization hit me that he was saving the punishment for an audience.

I heard the volume of his voice, but the words were lost to me. My eyes focused on the rug below my feet, my head lowered like a beaten dog. But all I could think of was the night before and the way he'd softly traced a line from behind my knee and up my thigh. I remembered how his touch lingered on my skin, long after he'd stopped touching me.

It had been so long since a man had looked at me, much less touched me, that I let myself be lost in the warmth of his hand on my thigh, so close, and yet not close enough.

He'd treated me like I was fragile. Like I'd break if he wasn't too careful. Or maybe like he was afraid to scare me off.

He didn't know I wanted him to try to break me. I wanted him to know just how unbreakable I was.

But then, he'd never asked me what I wanted. Had he?

His grip loosened and then he pushed me away from him. He couldn't walk away without inflicting that last bit of dignity, could he? Thank God the wall was there to catch me. I don't think I could endure being thrown to the ground.

I pushed my glassed back up my nose, brushed the wispy hair that never seemed to stay in my braid out of my face and straightened my skirt.

I cleared my throat and grabbed some towels from the janitor closet. And then I did my best to clean the mess I'd made of the rug.

Uninspired

The other day I wrote 2500 words. That may not seem like alot to more successful writers, but to someone whose been doing more doodling than writing over the last year, its a victory, albeit a small one.

I made the decision to write that night. I don't know why. The room was quiet or something was bothering me. I couldn't sleep.

I sat down to write.
I opened facebook.
Pandora Radio. Took longer than necessary trying to find what I wanted to listen to.
I opened my notebook (cuz I like the feel of writing on paper.)
I grabbed my pen.
I tapped the end of the pen to the music.
I stared at the blank page.
I stared at the blank page.
And I stared at the blank page.

I finally wrote a sentence.
I scratched it out.
I wrote a sentence, I scratched it out.

But then something happened. 45 minutes later, I wrote a word. That word led to another word, and another. Then I had a sentence, a paragraph, and then a chapter.

Writing is kinda like working out. You can do it when you feel like it. And you can feel proud of yourself for it.

But on the days you don't feel good about it, the days you're not in the zone- those are often the days you have breakthroughs.

Maybe you run an extra mile than you did last week. Maybe you add a 1,000 words to your word count.

I wish I could tell you that the chapter I wrote was the greatest thing I've ever written.

But I won't. I can't.

I haven't read it.

I want the words on the page. That's all.

Because I'm a writer. And writer's write.

And in the end isn't the meaning of success, whether you're running a marathon, or writing a novel, simply not giving up?

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

You know the drill. Two lines I've read this week. Two lines I've written.

I admit it. I'm reading The Twilight Saga. Again.

From Eclipse:

The sun was so deeply buried behind the clouds that there was no way to tell if it had set or not. After the long flight - chasing the sun westward so that it seemed unmoving in the sky it was especially disorienting-time seemed oddly variable.

And two lines from my work in progress:

Much like the subtle shifting from day into night, my exhilaration soon turned to exhaustion. It was difficult to keep my eyes open.

And don't forget to head over to the women of mystery blog for more Two Line Tuesday!

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

It Takes a Village

I'm back to work from being put on bedrest during my last month of pregnancy, recovering from childbirth, and then undergoing a (not so major) surgery.

Half of me is glad to be back, but the other half still thinks I'm never going to get back on track or find a routine that I can easily slip back into.

It makes me extremely thankful that I don't have to do it alone.

Its not just my husband, who lets me sleep in on Saturday or who wakes up for the 3am feeding.

Its not just my mom, God bless her, who when I'm in tears from hormones or exhaustion, or a combination of both, takes her grandkids so I can get a single night of rest.

It's not just my cousin, who even if we weren't related by blood, would probably lay down her life for me.

Its the other people, too. The ones who throw you showers, or drop off diapers, who crowd into the hospital room even though you're throwing up, and there's already so many people in the room that they're spilling over into the hallway.

Since we moved around a lot as a kid, I think I missed out on that sense of community that people are talking about when they say "It takes a village." But this weekend, celebrating the birthday of a friend, I couldn't help but remember the "good old times."

I went to college at WTAMU and the people that I met there are some of the same people who are helping me raise my own sons, today.

I remember the guy who was so painfully shy he hugged the wall at most parties, and the girl who had a painful crush on him.

I remember the boy who was afraid to hug me, afraid to get too close to anyone it seemed.

And of course I remember the twins,so full of life and chivalry! Pulling out our chairs and standing up when we came to the table.

That girl with the painful crush won her man and now they have a beautiful life together and a beautiful daughter to show for it.

That boy, though he has no children of his own, has no problem playing the favorite uncle, not only for his own nieces, but for all of our kids.

And the twins have grown into wonderful husbands and fathers who can still make being "childlike" an art form.

We've lost some friends along the way, but picked up a few down the road. Hell, some that had been missing even rejoined the fold! It takes a village to raise a child, but sometimes it takes a village to shape ourselves as well.

What would college have been like for me without you, Nathan and Sarah, Shawn, Tim, and James? What would life be like now, without you, Donnie and Kissaundra? Crystal and Rusty? Vanessa and Clay?

James and I sometimes talk about opportunities to move to a bigger city, where we could make more money, have better jobs, live in a more exciting city.

In the end we always stay. We stay because you are our village, and life wouldn't be the same without you...

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Progress

I know posts about New Year's Resolutions are probably a dime a dozen right about now but I just wanted the people who follow me to have a little update.

I, like most people I know made a few resolutions myself. The cliche.. lose weight. That one's gone out the window. Pregnancy kinda has an adverse affect on that one and my doctor told me no go... which is good cause throwing up again was definately NOT on my to do list... Excercise more... not happening. But the ones that I am keeping track of are going very well.

I'm making a list (and checkin' it twice!) heh, just kidding. I'm making a list of to do items and making sure I get at least a few of them done everyday. It helps to keep me focused, on track, and I'm well on my way to setting a routine I can live with. Not every day goes as planned, and some days I do less than others. But the point is that actively participating in my own life instead on watching as it passes me by.

One of the main things that I wanted to do this year was get back into school and change my career path. I'm tired of bitching about my job all the time, its time I do something about it. But once again the whole pregnancy thing is throwing me off. School for me would start 3 days after the baby is due and no Super Mom, Student, Woman could handle that much pressure, so I'm putting it off until next year. But I'm ok with that. I've mad a plan and I have something to look forward to. Plus it'll give me a change to work on my dedication and to stucture my life around the things I really want.

But what I'm super impressed with is that I've been writing every night. So far the book is packed away (all 3 of them actually) and I haven't so much as looked at them. But I'm not pressuring myself about it or feeling guilty that its in a box on my desk. I'm taking baby steps and I'm writing every night. Hopefully that will blossom into writing fiction every night.

The big one that I'm working on, and its kinda harder than I thought It'd be, is that I was going to give up TV.

I just can't do it. I think I'd rather diet.

So I made a deal with myself. If I Have to watch TV, I have to write a review of it. I had a practice with Heroes and Dollhouse last week and I wrote my review of Heroes last night. You can check it out at www.huddlekay.wordpress.com.

Please read and tell me what you think. do you watch Heroes? Do you agree with me or disagree? More importantly, how's the writing? 'Cause I've gotta say, I have no idea what I'm doing.