tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093315461752591212024-03-12T19:51:04.638-06:00A Day in the LifeLet your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need - a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.
-Three Men in a Boat, Jerome K. JeromeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-40793620373526752562013-06-02T07:26:00.001-05:002013-06-02T07:32:04.942-05:00Keep Calm and Write OnI've been getting back into my writing in a big way. I have a couple of ladies to critique with. I have been doing character bios and character interviews and filling a notebook full of important stuff! Very important stuff... but most importantly I've been writing.<br />
<br />
Its a good feeling.<br />
<br />
Lately, I've been pouring over old journals and old writing notebooks. Its crazy to see how far my writing has come in the last ten years, and <i>insane </i>to see how far (or not) I've come in my personal life. Its kinda disconcerting to see that I've been struggling with the same issues for most of my life, but encouraging to realize that I keep on ticking, and I'm constantly looking for and reaching for change. I never say ok, this is just the way it is, Its over for me.<br />
<br />
But in regards to writing, its making me realize how much I love the art of the written word. When I first starting believing that I could be a writer, I took classes, I read books on how to write, and I devoured fiction. My notebooks are full of quotes, words and their definitions that I had come across and didn't know.<br />
<br />
I have page after page of timed writing to writing prompts that may never become anything. But they were so exploratory, so "I'm going to just start and see where I end up."<br />
<br />
Blind Faith.<br />
<br />
Then there are passages of character descriptions, scenes, action. I believe at one time I even watched an episode of a television show and pinpointed each time I noticed a plot point, graphed the way they used Aristotle's incline. There are passages where I just examined dialogue, taking out every tagline and every description, just writing the dialogue.<br />
<br />
I eavesdropped on people at restaurants, examining the way they moved, how they emphasized points, how they listened. Tried to write their expressions. Were they bored? happy? sad? angry? How did I know? And how could I describe it without saying, "This person was bored/ happy/ sad/angry.<br />
<br />
I <b style="font-style: italic;">studied </b>writing and bringing characters to life.<br />
<br />
I loved how passionate I was about learning everything there was to know about writing. I'm still SO passionate about writing that I changed my career plan so that I could be around it as much as possible. <br />
<br />
I wrote all that to segue into a passage that I found in my notebook. I think it impressed me so much because I'm doing so much character work. And if you're going to study other writers, you might as well study the greats.<br />
<br />
This passage is from Nora Robert's <i>Heaven and Earth.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Her body was as lean and toned as a young tigers. She took pride in it, in her control of it. As she bent from the waist, the ski cap that she'd tugged on fell to the floor and her hair, the color of varnished oak, tumbled free.<br />
<br />
She wore it long because it didn't require regular trims and styling that way. It was just another type of control. Her eyes were a sharp bottle green. When she was in the mood she might fuss with mascara and eyeliner. After considerable debate she'd decided that her eyes were the best part of a face made up of mismatched features and angular lines.<br />
<br />
She had a slight overbite because she'd despised her retainer, and she had the wide forehead and nearly horizontal dark eyebrows of the Ripley side of the family.<br />
<br />
No one would have accused her of being pretty. It was too soft a word- and would have insulted her in any case. She preferred knowing it was a strong and sexy face, the kind that could attract men when she was in the mood for one.<br />
<br />
I could go on. I think I took the time write down 4 other passages from that book alone. But there are so many things about this description that I love. Its not just a physical description, but give so much information about how she grew up (retainer), her daily routines: she doesn't fuss over hair and make-up unless she's in the mood, and she's not attractive but she's sexy! She owns it. I love how she subconsciously makes decisions about her men the way she decides to fuss with makeup. "I'll wear mascara if I want to. And when I'm "in the mood for a man" she'll go out and get one.<br />
<br />
GENIUS.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-90979214290706027472013-05-07T13:09:00.000-05:002013-05-07T13:29:53.862-05:00My First Serious Book ReviewI've posted book reviews before, but they have mostly been "Loved the book!", "Beautiful", "Hilarious" kind of reviews and, well, that's not really helpful to anyone, is it?<br />
<br />
I've wanted to do this for awhile now, because I love reading and when I'm recommending books, or discussing books with someone, I really get my nerd on and go into great detail about everything I loved and hated about the book. <br />
<br />
As a writer, I understand the value of good reviews, and as a reader, I feel like its my responsibility, as well. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWORUs2y3Vxi3Gmq-oslUmmYJi-rTIvvcT0-HtqJJpeM8zw7uvWVWk_FyKVzX58oVaarRwpVPpYgnWtqGRnOiUnoy9xdnGmsA9QdWaze03Fb4winh-_HpMb5FTuyP6NOxTd2zzYaV8aps/s1600/51BA8eRxanL__BO2%252C204%252C203%252C200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click%252CTopRight%252C35%252C-76_AA278_PIkin4%252CBottomRight%252C-67%252C22_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWORUs2y3Vxi3Gmq-oslUmmYJi-rTIvvcT0-HtqJJpeM8zw7uvWVWk_FyKVzX58oVaarRwpVPpYgnWtqGRnOiUnoy9xdnGmsA9QdWaze03Fb4winh-_HpMb5FTuyP6NOxTd2zzYaV8aps/s1600/51BA8eRxanL__BO2%252C204%252C203%252C200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click%252CTopRight%252C35%252C-76_AA278_PIkin4%252CBottomRight%252C-67%252C22_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" /></a><br />
First I want to say that the cover art for <em>Twisted Roads</em> by Travis Erwin, is eye-catching and perfectly inviting . Everything a book cover should be. I love the guitar and her red high heels just jump off the cover. <br />
<br />
Most of time, you can find Travis over at his blog, <a href="http://traviserwin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bacon, Beer, and Books</a>, where his writing has always struck me as more storytelling than writing. To me, his talent lies in the way he makes any story feel like a campfire tale-those stories that you repeat over and over, and one's you can't wait to hear again and again.<br />
<br />
Usually, his stories are humorous. I've found myself more than once laughing out loud, or telling someone nearby, "You have got to read this!" <br />
<br />
<em>Twisted Roads</em> shows a different side of Travis' writing. Where his blog posts, and even <em>The Feedstore Chronicles</em> give me the sense of oral tradition, <em>Twisted Roads</em> is more sophisticated, <strike>more grown up</strike>. <strike>More mature</strike>. More <em>written</em>.<br />
<br />
The storyteller in his writing is still apparent, though. He weaves his words as beautifully as he's woven the lives of his characters. He's woven them so tight, in fact, that one characters decision not only affects that character, but multiple characters throughout the story, so that by the end we, as readers, have realized that he's subtlely been changing our perceptions without us realizing it. <br />
<br />
Twisted Roads is a character driven story (my favorite kind of story), and I found myself wanting to befriend Angela and Lucas. I could really relate to Angela because I've lived in places like Grand. I've known what is it like to be on the outside of small town life. <br />
<br />
Lucas's struggle with music, from trying to find the right words when writing lyrics, to trying to decide whether he should follow his dream or do the safe thing and stay where he is, is a struggle that any reader can relate to. <br />
<br />
Jake and Shelly were villianous in the most vile of ways, yet, by the end, I felt sorry for them because of the way their vulnerabilites were slowly unraveled throughout the novel. <br />
<br />
I especially loved how the characters of Misty and Charlene were personifications of Shelly's inner conflict (At least to me). They seemed to be the Angel and Devil on Shelly's shoulder, and at the same time represented both the best and worst parts of living in small town Texas. <br />
<br />
Travis' portrayal of Grand, Texas took me back to a childhood where I lived in <a href="http://www.city-data.com/city/Kress-Texas.html" target="_blank">Kress, Tx.</a> (population 700-800). <br />
<br />
I could go on. There are more characters. Important characters, but I think the joy of reading Twisted roads was traveling it on my own. I'll let you do the same. <br />
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P.S. how did I do?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-25913727281543794962013-04-23T13:49:00.002-05:002013-04-23T13:50:48.382-05:00I survived the 7 year ItchIts kinda hard for me to write this post. <br />
<br />
No, I mean literally. There is a one year old crying in the background. Two boys playing wii in the guest room and my oldest is watching cartoons in my room. Every 5 minutes or so one them has a meltdown, <a href="http://superman.wikia.com/wiki/Superman:_Infinite_Crisis" target="_blank">infinite crisis</a> style, and I have to run in to save the day. <br />
<br />
Plus, this is what my living room looks like at this very moment. <br />
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<br />
Glamorous, huh?<br />
<br />
Sometimes it feels just like yesterday, and other times it feels like the longest eight years Of. My. Life. <br />
<br />
See, when people compare marriage to war, its not really an exaggeration. Well maybe it is. <br />
<br />
But war <em>is</em> a great metaphor for marriage. Take away the blood, guts, and dying, and there you have it. (Unless you count that one time when I dropped the electric drill into my husbands calf. That was pretty bloody...He still has <strike>a cute little</strike> star shaped scar to prove it.)<br />
<br />
Two very seperate, very different entities are trying to come to terms where both can live realitivly at peace with the other without giving up too much of themselves. <br />
<br />
Sometimes you're hanging out back at camp, sometimes you're in the trenches. <br />
<br />
I can honestly say that being married to James has definitely been more hanging out back at camp, and less geurilla warfare. <br />
<br />
There have been some times when we were on the same page, and sometimes when terms had to be laid on the table. <br />
<br />
I don't know about James, but this last 2-3 years have been the hardest for me. We seldom see each other. We kinda tag team each other on the way out the door. Between him getting off at fiveish to me going in at.. fivesh, we often don't have time for more than a peck on the cheek and an I love you, as my kids are screaming and crying for me not to leave them. <br />
<br />
It's hard. <br />
<br />
But this is happening because he is supporting a choice I made. He is sticking around and watching the kids, and keeping his mouth shut when the house looks the way it does. <br />
<br />
He's holding me up, while I improve myself. He's not tearing me down. Or holding me back. <br />
<br />
It may seem like a small thing. <br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong. I'm a fan of the big gestures just like every woman is, but marriage is made up of the small things. Its a battle every day, and the small things add up. <br />
<br />
So tonight as we celebrate surviving the <a href="http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/seven-year-itch.html" target="_blank">7 year itch</a>, we'll tag team again, Probably high five as hes pulling screaming toddlers off my leg. I'll forget that very vivid dream I had of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manu_Bennett" target="_blank">Manu Bennett</a> I had last night, and remember how grateful I am that I have James. <br />
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<br />
I'm so blessed to have a loving husband who respects and supports my choices, who loves our children and is an amazing father to them, and who, despite how much I dont know how or why, still wants me with the fervor of a fifteen year old boy. <br />
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P.S. In the course of writing this post, I put a 3 year old in time out, then put the two youngest boys down for a nap, changed Steven's game in the wii and rocked the baby to sleep. <br />
<br />
I'm a freaking rockstar. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-33347937866759577292013-04-15T08:21:00.000-05:002013-04-15T08:21:13.850-05:00The Red Robe
I actually wrote this a long time ago, but couldn't decide if I wanted to post it or now. <br />
<br />
Too cheesy?<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Allison slipped the red robe off of
her shoulders. It seemed prophetic somehow, against the white tiles of her
bathroom. She turned the water in the shower as hot as it would go, slowly taking
an inventory of the damage. Her shoulder was slightly sore, but the inside of
her thigh was black from the kicks she’d taken.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She wiped the steam from the
mirror, cringing as the muscles tightened. A gash over one eye and a split lip.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
It could’ve been worse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She slipped the band from her
braided hair and shook it out. She’d been so exhausted that she hadn’t bothered
to take it down last night, and now the normally soft and flowing locks looked
like a rats nest. She pulled a brush through it, making sure to remove the
tangles and stepped into the shower. She couldn’t do anything but stand there,
letting the water wash over her, remembering the fight she’d had with Owen last
night. She didn’t know what had hurt her more, the bruises or the words he’d
said. Still, she couldn’t imagine life without him. It had been so good in the
beginning. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Maybe he was right. Maybe she wasn’t
good enough. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Maybe she was crazy for thinking
she could do something more with her life, for thinking that she could be
something more…something better. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
When she finished, she slipped the
robe back on and shuffled to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
For a long moment, she focused on
the steam rising up from her cup of coffee, until the doorbell rang. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She knew it would be him and wasn’t
sure she should open the door. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
But of course she did. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
As he stood there, she tried to decide
how she should defend herself. Would she finally give him an ultimatum, or would
she still be too afraid to lose him?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He pushed his way through the door,
grabbing her by the shoulders. His face contorted in pain as he took in the
gash over her eye. “I’m so sorry,” he said. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I’m fine.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Hey,” he said, gently taking her
chin and turning it for inspection. “It’s over. You don’t have to pretend to be
strong anymore. I’m still here.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She desperately wanted not to cry.
But she felt the pressure in her chest building, and when she felt the first
tear sliding down her cheek, she leaned into him and let him comfort her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He whispered things in her ear,
things that were easy to believe, only because he was the one saying them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He walked her to the couch,
slipping off his shoes and allowing her to sit with her head on his shoulder.
His arm was heavy across her sore shoulders but she didn’t mind. For a long
time, they just sat together. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Finally, she said. “Owen, I’m not
pretending. I am strong.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He tugged her a little closer, a
supportive squeeze on her arm, but he didn’t say anything.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I want to do this, Owen. It makes
me feel alive. I’ve never felt so alive as when I’m fighting. I’m going to do
this, with or without you. I need your support, and if I can’t have that, I can’t
be with you anymore.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Last year, you would never have
said that to me.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I know.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He looked down at her, his fingers
skimming along the gash over her eye. “I didn’t understand why in the hell you’d
want to take a chance on ruining that beautiful face of yours.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He kissed her temple, his thumb
brushing tentatively over her split lip. “But I’m starting to get it. I couldn’t
stand not being there last night, so I went. I watched, and you’re right. I’ve
never seen you so alive. Plus, you looked incredibly hot in those little
shorts.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She punched him playfully in the
ribs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Allison, I love you. And I’ll
always be in your corner.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Really?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Really,” He said with a smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Good. Because I have to be at the
gym in an hour, and I need a sparring partner.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“That’s not funny.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Allison laughed, taking his hand, thankful
they had an hour before practice. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-2653584569285177502013-04-08T08:17:00.000-05:002013-04-08T08:46:49.824-05:00Idiot Jed, Glutton for Punishment<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Spiders don’t scare me. Snakes can slither around my arm and
I wouldn’t flinch, Home alone in the dark… no problem. But there are a few things
that terrify me. Clowns, for instance. <o:p> </o:p></div>
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I watched Poltergeist as a kid, and sure, the stuffed clown
grinning madly, rocking away in his rocking chair as “his kid” was tormented by
an unseen force gave me the wiggins… Tim curry dressed in clown makeup telling cute
little Georgie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“we all float down here”</i>
from a storm drain still makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck, but
it wasn’t until middle school when I started researching serial killers that I
was absolutely done with clowns. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wayne_Gacy" target="_blank">John Wayne Gacy</a> was real, people… Not just the figment
of someone’s delightfully disturbed mind. Now every time I see a clown, I turn
into a 5 year old: cringing, whimpering, and sometimes crying. I hide behind a
blanket, cover my eyes, sink down in my seat, as if is any of these are valid
survival tactics.<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Last year at the haunted house, full of clowns, it took me
longer than it should have to get through because I was either cowering in the
corner, or shoving my brother in law (who was deliberately going slower just to
torment me ) out of the way so I could run. <o:p> </o:p><br />
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This was still less terrifying than public speaking. Just
the thought of standing in front of a room full of people where I have to be
the center of attention makes me nauseas. And a little sweaty. <o:p> </o:p></div>
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But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">speaking???</i> I’d
rather be forced to go back through that haunted house every day for a year
than stand up and talk for an hour. And hour, hell, I’d rather go back through
that haunted house every day for a year than speak for 10 minutes!<o:p> </o:p></div>
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So naturally, teaching is an appropriate career plan, right?<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I’ve been fine with that choice so far. Sitting behind my
computer at 5 in the morning, or midnight depending on which night you find me…
was fine. Theories and methods, writing about teaching, talking about teaching
hasn’t bothered me in the least. But, last week I turned in my application for student
teaching, which means <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Shit just got real!</u></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></u></i></b></div>
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I’ve been nauseas since I turned it in. I’ll probably spend
the next 3 months in a constant state of panic. Right now, I’m wondering what
the hell I was thinking. <o:p> </o:p></div>
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Just call me Idiot Jed, glutton for punishment (random buffy
reference)<o:p> </o:p></div>
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But I chose this path because I’m tired of being afraid. I’ve
wasted so many years saying I can’t do this because: <o:p> </o:p></div>
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So, I’m going to start doing things because I can. Because
deep down, under this gut wrenching fear of failure, I know… I really do… that
I ‘m pretty kickass. <o:p> </o:p></div>
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I believe that I’ll be a great teacher, that I can genuinely
help students be better readers, better writers. I know that fear can only be
conquered when it is faced. I know that eventually getting up in front of
people will be a cake walk. Eventually, public speaking and I will be good
friends. I’m going to be ok with it. <o:p> </o:p></div>
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But I will never be ok with clowns. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-38719181735153513392012-04-29T23:19:00.000-05:002012-04-29T23:19:03.419-05:00Tabula RasaI wrote tonight. <br />
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Something that I didn't have to turn in for class. <br />
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IT WAS AWESOME!!! <br />
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I love feeling this way. Why did I ever let other things get in the way of this feeling? <br />
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Not only did I write tonight, but I also went back and read something that I had written a few months ago to try to get my bearings. See where I was at... and I felt myself getting sucked in to the story. I couldn't stop reading it. Not because I was trying to see how many things were wrong with it or how much I was going to have to correct later. <br />
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I got sucked into the chapter I had written because it was...it was... it was GOOD!<br />
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I've made it a point to try to make mondays about motivation. (Good way to start the week,eh?) And there is nothing like reading something that you've written to remind you why you write in the first place. <br />
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So this weeks motivation is all about Tabula Rasa.<br />
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I'm adding the definition for those of you who do not know (And YES, because I'm just THAT nerdy!)<br />
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1</div>
<div class="scnt">
<span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> the mind in its hypothetical primary blank or empty state before receiving outside impressions </span></div>
<div class="sblk">
<div class="snum">
2</div>
<div class="scnt">
<span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> something existing in its original pristine state </span></div>
</div>
<!--INFOLINKS_OFF--><!-- End Google Analytics --><div class="etymology">
<h2>
<span>Origin of <em>TABULA RASA</em></span></h2>
<div class="content">
Latin, smoothed or erased tablet<div style="margin-top: 5px;">
First Known Use: 1535</div>
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I'm thankful that each new day is a brand new "clean slate." I don't have to dwell on the mistakes and failures of the past, but instead can look forward to new growth and new oppurtunities...new ways to fail miserably and new ways to suceed exponentially!<br />
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Let tomorrow be the start of a grand new adventure!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-38313136291570635242012-03-13T07:49:00.002-06:002012-03-13T08:00:46.047-06:00Tuesday TwosomeI'm reading Diana Gabaldon's <em>Drums of Autumn. </em>This series is taken me forever to read, I do realize. But to be fair, its not because its boring. I love the books or I wouldn't be reading them a second time. But each book is over 1,000 pages long, and they are not "easy" reads. Plus I've slipped a few other books, including school, a few nonfiction, and I read the hunger games series over a course of 4 days.<br /><br />Anyway, here are the two lines from <em>Drums of Autumn:</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>She's said she was sure. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Roger lay in the dust of the road, bruised, filthy, and starving, with a womantrembling and weepingagainst his chest, now and then giving him a smallthump with her fist. He had never felt happier in his life. </em><br /><em></em><br />I sadly have not written anything this week. I am playing with the idea of entering a contest for a short story that I've kept hidden away. No one's read it but me. I love the story but it needs a little bit of work. But we shall see.<br /><br />I'm not posting on there today since I didn't have lines to contribute, but head over to <a href="http://womenofmystery.net">http://womenofmystery.net</a> for more Tuesday Twosomes....Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-23293985128847837202012-03-12T13:02:00.002-06:002012-03-12T13:04:34.966-06:00Motivation Monday<div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" ></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" ></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" >May you have the hindsight to know where you've been the foresight to know<br />where you're going and the insight to know when you're going too far.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;color:#006600;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;color:#006600;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;color:#006600;"></span> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-13445740421824590942012-03-05T06:37:00.002-06:002012-03-05T06:50:55.304-06:00Motivation Monday<div align="center"><strong>We are what we repeatedly do.<br />Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit. ~Aristotle</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="left"><strong></strong> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I love to read quotes. Sometimes quotes really make me think, or really motivate me to do better than I have been doing. Lately, the ideas in my little pea brain have been more than a little lacking. After school and dealing with 3 kids now (I am babysitting) cleaning house and working full time, I don't have much left in the tank. Its pretty much <em>Fire Bad. Tree pretty.,</em> in the thinking department<em>.</em> But I have been brainstorming ways to add content to my blog. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I like the idea of motivation monday. Every one needs a boost to get you going during the week, to remind you to stay on track and stay strong. So, for this monday I posted this quote. I found it appropriate, since writing for me has been rather daunting. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">So, I post this for myself, but also for anyone else who needs a little extra motivation. Feel free to take what you need, and maybe send a little love my way and let me know what motivates you!</div><div align="left"><strong></strong> </div><div align="left"><strong></strong> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-14382225536754418302011-11-08T14:06:00.000-06:002011-11-08T14:16:56.256-06:00Suzy Homemaker Kicked My Ass Today.Ya know, usually, I think really hard at night about how my day is going to go when I wake up the next morning. Seldom, if ever, do I actually follow through with the plan I painstakingly set out the night before. Today, I totally jumped the shark.
First of all, doughnuts have suddenly become like kid crack to my kids. Every morning, they ask for doughnuts. This morning was no exception. I was all ready to walk out the door and go grab a few doughnut holes, when I realized that my husband had taken my car, because his gas guzzling truck was on empty, and we've been running a little low on cash lately.
So I get a bright idea.
Second: My bright ideas are ingenius, magnificent, perfect plans for the perfect day, <i>in my head</i>. but somewhere between the idea and the followthrough something (I would say 98% of the time) goes horribly, horribly wrong.
Third: when it comes to cooking, I am the bomb at opening a can of soup! Boiling water for some ramen noddles, I rock. Throwing a corndog in the microwave, I'm awesome at that. But making homemade doughnuts... not so much. I threw the first batch away. These are my award winning homemade from scratch doughnut holes: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsaInEdFU4QpDp834Qb_vkLZJEEFHFXzxhW0Wwvm-XKREWfhjake8ZIhBq5LUYizGScCIDaj8_Cw-XwsnR7sNDPQh2-fX3zcYwNEgJo4jxqf3Ebpedj-EmLVYEFvhVF0pwNaHxvxvsk0/s1600/378913_2622247762276_1437686251_2926072_1254811042_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsaInEdFU4QpDp834Qb_vkLZJEEFHFXzxhW0Wwvm-XKREWfhjake8ZIhBq5LUYizGScCIDaj8_Cw-XwsnR7sNDPQh2-fX3zcYwNEgJo4jxqf3Ebpedj-EmLVYEFvhVF0pwNaHxvxvsk0/s400/378913_2622247762276_1437686251_2926072_1254811042_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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Look delish, don't they?
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This is the reult of letting my kids help:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10_psfKlD51qD4tCDu1iWeY1px3kPPekOFzmF8Mejfct4GnqVY9knpClHCVo0nnibumoRWhr72ojdDa9BFjgCkdyi2vPhzIYZAYri0B4Y_Iy2Iz8NA4TbIQB_FJI_85EB_tQKG05lYAA/s1600/317243_2622241882129_1437686251_2926067_2134509291_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10_psfKlD51qD4tCDu1iWeY1px3kPPekOFzmF8Mejfct4GnqVY9knpClHCVo0nnibumoRWhr72ojdDa9BFjgCkdyi2vPhzIYZAYri0B4Y_Iy2Iz8NA4TbIQB_FJI_85EB_tQKG05lYAA/s320/317243_2622241882129_1437686251_2926067_2134509291_n.jpg" width="191" /></a>So its 12:30, I've spent all morning trying to make doughnuts, have fixed nothing for lunch and my house is 3 times as dirty as when I started off this morning!
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Suzy Homemaker:1 </div>
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Me: nada...</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-72860944157338686302011-10-31T10:19:00.000-06:002011-10-31T10:50:41.643-06:00Halloween!!!<br />
Halloween is my favorite time of the year. Its not just the candy and the kids in their adorable costume. Its the changing weather, the leaves starting to turn and then fall. Its the football games and the cuddling with your loved ones. Its the pumpkins and jack -o-lanterns. <br />
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But most of all I love the scary movies and the haunted houses. My husband has never been too much of a horror fan, so I give him credit for indulging me. But this year, my dear husband bought us passes to 5 different haunted houses. We went to Sixth Street Massacre too, but we literally had to <a href="http://www.thegiftoflife.org/">give blood </a>to get into that one! <br />
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I saw a review of Sixth Street Massacre online, and I thought I'd give it a try!<br />
I'm ranking these from the least scary to the most scary...<br />
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7. <a href="http://www.amazinglyfunfarm.com/">The Amazingly fun farm</a>: Not scary! but so fun for the whole family. We took the kids and they stayed and played for 4 hours and still didn't want to leave when it was time to go. the maze which was the main attraction of the farm was fun to get lost in. You determine where to go by answering questions, or doing something silly. the first time we went in, it took us 15 minutes to get back, but that was only half the maze!!! The other half took my husband and son 45 minutes to find their way out! They also had a huge slide built out hay (which the kids loved!) and a number of other games and activities. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon!<br />
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6. <a href="http://www.fearamarillo.com/castle.html">Kaspers Kastle</a>:Fun time for kids under 8. the Kastle consists mostly of yard blowups. But the kids love them. they also have a halloweentown set up and an area to color. <br />
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5. <a href="http://farmageddon-ama.com/">Farmageddon</a>: Farmegeddon is what happens to the Amazingly fun farm when the sun goes down! To me it wasn't <em>that</em> scary. (My biggest concern was 1. a girl this big should not be running through a corn maze in the dark and 2.the ground was pretty uneven so I was afraid I might fall flat on my face. My husband insisted that when someone jumps out at me, I should run, not hide my face in his armpit, but what does he know?! My brother in law was pretty freaked out just from the sound of the corn rustling in the breeze, and at one point I thought James was going to have to clean his pants!<br />
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4.<a href="http://fearamarillo.com/">Center City Mayhem</a>: It seemed to me that this house was mostly run by kids, so it wasn't as scary as some of the others. But do not underestimate scary kids! There were defiantly some cringe worthy elements. Most notable is the room with the kid holding the very large very live python, and the room with little kids throwing bloody baby dolls at you. One little kid, maybe 8 years old scared me so bad I made him laugh in the middle of his terror inducing act. Glad I could entertain you kid!<br />
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3. <a href="http://www.amarilloscaregrounds.com/">Insanitarium</a> (Amarillo Scaregrounds): Not only are their 2 parts to the haunted house, the scaregrounds also has games and the gametrucks on site. Insanitarium is set up like a haunted mental hospital. Doctors coming out and shooting things at your from syringes, definately not my thing. Crazy people in straight jackets and rubber rooms... electric shocks at random moments... they built it to make it feel like the walls were closing in on you, which helped the theme, and they got more than a few scares out of me. Definately one of my favorites! Not for the faint of heart!<br />
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2. <a href="http://www.youcantscareme.com/">Sixth Street Massacre</a>: I loved this haunted house, and it was hard to pick which one got number 1. this years themes were movies. they took scenes from some of my favorites and it really felt like you were in some of them. My favorites were the room with the ring lady. FREAKY! which also happened to be in a tilting room, so you felt unstable all the way through. the theater parts scared the patooty out of me, and my husband screamed like a girl through the whole thing. (I couldn't quite tell if he was putting on a show to scare the girls who went in with us or if he was really scared, but he'll probably tell you he was putting on a show!)This was the only haunted house that we had to wait in line. (But even the wait in line was fun, and totally worth it!) Actors mill around outside and scare the people waiting. Imagine my surprise when this guy snuck up behind me while I was simply trying to take a picture with the zombie!<br />
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1.If you know me at all, you know clowns just make me go "eeesh". Which is why <a href="http://amarilloscaregrounds.com/">Terror on 10th</a>(Amarillo Scaregrounds) takes the cake for scariest haunted house. Terror on 10th didn't just have a few scary clowns. the whole damn thing was clowns!!!!!Freaking scary clowns in every nook and cranny, calling me by my name and chasing me though black hallways... I don't even remember most of it because my eyes were closed most of the time, but my I lost my voice in that one and more than once I did my scream/scary dance. When I came out of there, I had to take a beat to catch my breath. <br />
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If you're not trick or treating with your kids, or stuffing your face in between knocks on the door, its not too late to get your scare on! Its a blast and even more fun if you're with your honey! <br />
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Happy Halloween!!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-73719721728773279182011-04-14T07:10:00.004-05:002011-04-14T07:39:47.500-05:00Everyone's Got One and They All StinkYesterday I blogged about why I write. Today I'm going to continue with <a href="http://http://www.richardcastle.net/questions-and-answers">Castle's </a>advice and write about what's holding me back. When i sat down to write, all I could think about were the excuses I use to get off doing any number of things, really. But especially writing. But my husband lost 100 pounds last year and I tell myself I'm going to do the program and then I just... don't. so "diet" and exercise are right up there with the writing. Add cleaning house and schoolwork to the mix, and these excuses pretty much cover them all. <br /><br />I thought about not posting this. It's awfully personal, and leaves me feeling extremely vulnerable. But I remember, a post a while back where I said, I wasn't going to be afraid of vulnerability, where I was going to post how I felt, no matter what. And then I thought of the doctor's office. If you have something that needs to be fixed, they have to expose that vulnerable part of you. They have to reveal that weakness before they can fix the problem. So, I'm going to leave this out there, for the whole world to see. Maybe, if you know I'm having a hard day, you can send a shout out to me, give me a little encouragement. I could use all the help I can get. <br /><br />Here's a list of things I tell myself at least once a day (Sometimes, once an hour)<br /><br />10. <strong>I'm too old</strong>. Bullshit, I'm in the prime of my life. If I keep saying this, pretty soon I'll be saying, "You remember back in the day, when I <em>used</em> to write?"<br /><br />9.<strong> I'm too tired</strong>. Yeah, and you'll still be tired tomorrow. suck it up and do it. <br /><br />8. <strong>I'm too fat</strong>: To go dancing, To go to a party, to go anywhere where people might actually see me. To work out. Too fat to work out? Seriously. None of these make any sense whatsoever!<br /><br />7.<strong>I'll do it later</strong>: I said that 2 years ago and I'm still in the same place I was then. "Do it later" is just another way to say don't do it at all.<br /><br />6. <strong>I deserve it</strong>: I don't deserve to be thin. I don't deserve to be successful (Even if successful is finishing the novel, or losing 10 pounds, or finishing the semester on a high note...) I don't deserve to have the things that make me happy. <br /><br />5. <strong>Who do you think you are? You'll never be more than <em>this</em>.</strong><br />4. <strong>You are not smart enough</strong><br />3. <strong>Not good enough</strong><br />2. <strong>not strong enough </strong><br />1. <strong>I just can't do it</strong><br /><br />Some of these things are easier to dispute then others, but I'm going to try to talk myself into things more than I talk myself out of them. Old habits die hard, but i have many that need to be put to rest. <br /><br />So the answer to what's holding me back from writing (or workingout, or school) <br /><br />Nothing but little ol' me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-35638065323353954252011-04-13T14:19:00.005-05:002011-04-13T15:36:29.331-05:00And now I have Jennifer Archer telling me what to do...I think there is a higher power trying to tell me to get my ass in the chair to write. After Richard Castle so charmingly gave me the advice I so desperately needed, along comes <a href="http://www.jenniferarcher.net">Jennifer Archer</a>. Here's and excerpt from her blog:<br /><br /><em>The thing is, I don't know many writers that didn't have a full load of other things going on in their lives when they started writing. In my case, when I started taking creative writing classes at night and began my first novel, I was raising two rowdy little boys, had a part-time job, ran a sideline residential rental property business with my husband, volunteered at my kids' school . . . and the list goes on. If you're serious about writing, you'll find a way to make it a routine part of your life. </em>then she suggested a free write: <em>Freewrite for ten minutes about why you want to write, or about what has been your experience with writing. What pushes you to write or what holds you back -- or both? </em><br /><br />I used to freewrite all the time. In fact the idea for my novel came to me during a free write, where I wrote one scene, and the idea blossomed for me. So I sat down to write. <br /><br />Something completley unexpected happened. <br /><br />Here's my freewrite:<br /><br />Since before I can remember, I have always had a nose in a book, but my first experience with writing happened when I was 14. I wrote a short story about a romance starring moi, and my crush- It was a hard core crush, too-but alas he only had eyes for my best friend. Isn't that how it always happens?<br /><br />Anyway, I thought it was really good, but not good enough to <em>show </em> anyone. How embarrasing to think I'd actually be good at writing. I kept it for awhile but it eventually ended up in the trash. <br /><br />I discovered poetry (ah teenage angst!) But I knew I could write and no one would have to know. I burned them when I was finished. When I was in college I used to make-up silly stories about my roomates. I joked about writing a story about us. <br /><br />They thought it was great, I hid my terror of the idea byt saying "I was just joking guys, c'mon. I can't write a book! <br /><br />I played around but I had no idea what I was doing and never dreamed I'd be successful. Then one day my dad found a piece of my writing. He'd been so proud of me for going to college to be a psych major, but he turned to me and said. "You know you can do this, right? This is really good. If this is really what you want to do- then do it."<br /><br />A year later he was gone. <br /><br />So, maybe this is why I write. <br /><br />Because he said I could. <br /><br />Happy Birthday, Dad.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-67303613453380549402011-04-12T14:49:00.005-05:002011-04-12T15:22:27.064-05:00Richard Castle just gave me the best advice EVER!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXeQWzRgdQpqN5ynX09CFaxDJW39wSA19XUixc9CC0RSvWPxtzFJthx-aRoqi21DqUuaCkcm0fE1-eH5I42Uj6bIB6zAtotj9GZeLoGvVM6Uew1mI_mMk8luP6HQOMY5xBlmYmqrFu-w/s1600/castle2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXeQWzRgdQpqN5ynX09CFaxDJW39wSA19XUixc9CC0RSvWPxtzFJthx-aRoqi21DqUuaCkcm0fE1-eH5I42Uj6bIB6zAtotj9GZeLoGvVM6Uew1mI_mMk8luP6HQOMY5xBlmYmqrFu-w/s400/castle2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594792071079667570" /></a><br />As some of you may know. After my utter FAIL at freelance writing last year my writing confidence has taken a huge hit. I've been sporadic at best, and even when I've have posted something, it's... well... never mind. You can insert your own adjective here. <br /><br />I've had a huge Writer's block for almost a year now, and even my attempts at trying to "get back in the saddle" have been pretty lame. My pens been quivering as of late, but every time I want to sit down in the chair to write, I either a) feel guilty for all the other stuff I could be doing, b.) decide that watching reruns of teen mom 2 is suddenly of dire import, or c.) start rehashing the list of reasons why I can't write, and shouldn't even bother. <br /><br />I understand this is a problem. Even with people, my mom, mother in law, MY BOSS, telling me why I should just do it, I give the whole shoulder shrug and an "eh," in response. This may come across as me not giving a shit. But in reality its my way of saying I can't deal with this right now and I don't want to talk about it. <br /><br />But I was wasting time today, and came across <a href="http://www.richardcastle.net/">Richard Castle's blog</a>. He gave me the best advice ever. ITS SO TRUE!<br /><br /> <em>I don’t believe in writer’s block. I believe in writer’s embarrassment. That’s when you’re so embarrassed by the horrendous drivel you’re writing that you can’t bear to see it on the page. After all, you can always write something. I’ve discovered that giving yourself permission to write poorly is the gateway to writing well. It may not be good, it may not make sense, but that’s okay. After enough pages of meaningless drivel, your brain will uncover something interesting, and before you know it, you’re off and writing again.</em><br /><br /><em>I’ve also discovered that writing about why you can’t write allows you to discover what’s holding you back. Once you know what’s holding you back, you can face the problem and solve it.</em><br /><br />This last part seems especially important. Maybe when I finally sit down to write again, I'll start with that. <br /><br />Leave it to me to take advice from a fictional character!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-66045972997973394162011-01-17T23:19:00.002-06:002011-01-17T23:32:34.134-06:00Two Line TuesdayI'm still reading Diana Gabaldon, because I got distracted and read a few books on my new kindle. (dance of joy) but, I picked it up again, and this passage struck me. I wanted to share it. This is from <em>Dragonfly in Amber</em>.<br /><br />"I always thought it would be a simple matter to lie wi' a woman," he said softly. "And yet...I want to fall on my face at your feet and worship you"-he dropped the towel and reached out, taking me by the shoulders-"and still I want to force ye to your knees before me, and hold you there with my fingers tangled in your hair, and your mouth at my service...and I want both things <em>at the same time</em>, Sassenach."<br /><br /><br />And here are my two lines, which in retrospect should've gone first, after those two lines!<br /><br />The house wore its desolation like a shroud. Wind torn and weather beaten, she stood defiant against years of abuse. Alex could relate. In that moment, she knew why people stayed, why they staked a claim, and called four walls home. Until that moment, Alex hadn't believed in the word <em>home</em>. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.womenofmystery.net">Women of Mystery </a>has more two lines. Check em out. Submit some of your own, even.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-83223072118976446282011-01-11T07:35:00.003-06:002011-01-11T08:18:40.544-06:00Inspiration from a 2 year old.I've survived the first two weeks of being a (Semi) stay at home Mom. Even though they both need constant attention, I relish the times that Steven crawls into my lap (or on top of my back or head!) <br /><br />Even though Thomas still wants to be held at all hours of the day and screams every time I leave the room, I relish the times when I get to feed him, and we have that moment where our eyes lock and I realize that I will never have a connection with another human being like I have with my sons. <br /><br />I've learned to appreciate the small things. Especially the things my two year old says!<br /><br />Among the other normal things two year old's say like "no!" and "That's mine!" or "I want to do it myself!" my 2 year old says alot of stuff that makes me laugh. The most recent being "Ow! my twig and berries! I can't imagine where he learned that...but my husband has been spending an awful lot of time with him lately, so there's a clue.<br /><br />He says a lot of things that make me proud. <br /><br />"Mom, will you read me a book?" <br /><br />"Mom, will you tell me a story?" <br /><br />"That was a good story, Mom!"<br /><br />Occasionally, he says things that make me in credibly sad:<br /><br />When informing him that I had to go to work he replied, "Can you stay here with me for a little while?" <br /><br />"No, baby, I have to go to work." <br /><br />"Don't. Don't go to work."<br /><br />For being 2 he's also extremely adept at telling me exactly how he feels. <br /><br />"That makes me so happy!"<br /><br />"That makes me so sad."<br /><br />"You hurt my feelings."<br /><br />But the other day He said something that inspired me. It was relevant for school, for writing, for life in general. <br /><br />He was playing Wii. We have the resort game, and he loves to play the sword fight. One of his favorite is the one where hundreds of other "resorters" come at you and you have to fight them all. <br /><br />All of a sudden he was screaming "No! No! No! Don't get me bad guy!" And he was swinging that wii remote like nobody's business! "Don't quit!" he says between breaths. He's screaming "Don't give up! Keep trying and you'll win! Don't Stop! Keep trying. <br /><br />Suddnely with an exhilartion only a two year old could show, he turns to me and yells at the top of his lungs, jumping up and down, "Momma! I won. I kept trying and I won!"<br /><br />And it occured to me that if we could all face our every day situations with the strength an resiliance of a two year old, how could we fail? <br /><br />In the face of countless distractions, enumberal obstacles let us keep trying. Let us not give up, so that finally, we can say "I won!"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-42925012018223742732011-01-06T08:40:00.003-06:002011-01-06T10:01:15.922-06:00Follow the Yellow Brick RoadThat song has been in my head all day. <br /><br />We're not even a week into the new year, and I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to manage everything in the coming year. <br /><br />In 2010 We had some huge changes. We had another son, Thomas who is beautiful! but still keeping me up at night, I decided to go back to school to become a teacher, and then within the last few weeks I've decided to stay home with the kids during the day and work in the evenings. (And a 12 hour shift every Saturday) My husband lost over 100 pounds last year. I think the changes are good changes and I'm looking forward to seeing what the new year brings. But I do have a few regrets. <br /><br />My reading and writing (anything not school related, anyway) really took a hit. I've missed just curling up with a good book without the words Go, dog, Go, or without hearing Mama, Mama, Mama, every 5 seconds. And I've missed writing. I've missed writing SO much!<br /><br />I don;t know. I guess that's what new year's is about, looking over the past year and looking forward into the next. <br /><br />These were a few of my resolutions last year. <br /><br />*Making lists to help me stay focused. (I still make lists but my day revolves around Thomas and Steven so its hard to make a set schedule. Still a work in progress)<br /><br />*Go to School (Yeah me! I got one!)<br /><br />*Write every night. (School kinda took care of that. But this year I'm going to give up another hour of sleep to get it done. In Theory.)<br /><br />*TV reviews. Yeah that didn't happen. Every one I wrote felt awkward and I was unsure of what I was doing. Plus it took WAY too much time. So maybe one day, but not now. <br /><br />So this year, I really only have 1 resolution.<br /><br />Follow the yellow brick road. Let life take me where its gonna take me.<br /><br />Does that mean I won't have to work hard. Of course not. Dorothy did did a lot of skipping in her pretty red slippers. <br /><br />When in doubt, I'll sing a song. <br /><br />I'll meet new friends along the way, but I'll always be trying to get back to those who love me, who miss miss, who've made me, maybe even some who've broken me) I'll get back to those people who motivate me, who inspire me, who will never lie to me. <br /><br />I'll resolve to forget the complicated and get back to black and white. <br /><br />I'll follow the yellow brick road/ I may encounter a few flying monkeys along the way, maybe even a wicked witch or two...<br /><br />But I'll stick to my path, and I won't stray. (Those damn poppy fields always look so inviting!)<br /><br />I'll follow the yellow brick road, and I'll always remember that there's no place like home. Because in the end that's where all dreams begin, and where all dreams end. <br /><br />Happy New Year!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-1770754856534031572010-10-29T15:09:00.019-05:002010-10-30T03:57:54.058-05:00I 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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KFw1efC0ITJ3PQ_hYjmmo1M7-0gl3EAvhjvQxVNf9fyn4GcqHGUeJrqI77ntcVbpRkr7M_X-yo7ijq0r7STG3d_HBH5CsbnLhVuZ0tJUKalHNm-p2tFHn8aSYoTLHT7vCIJk6tkNHQc/s1600/TrueBlood-062510-0038.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KFw1efC0ITJ3PQ_hYjmmo1M7-0gl3EAvhjvQxVNf9fyn4GcqHGUeJrqI77ntcVbpRkr7M_X-yo7ijq0r7STG3d_HBH5CsbnLhVuZ0tJUKalHNm-p2tFHn8aSYoTLHT7vCIJk6tkNHQc/s400/TrueBlood-062510-0038.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533736042755241842" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">5. True Blood</span><br />I read the Sookie Stackhouse series by <a href="http://http://www.charlaineharris.com/">Charlaine Harris</a> 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. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqhmg9j9WjTcE9SYid0PlHNSOHVC0k7bth1TTaE03pi4FxE9s6jrjx53PFR94DjPY9_FpiOhFMS-btdy9JToMFcZLjNyaGmqFygeAgAXzzs1LsMAVKHv_y7q7rpt0sSIOf6qGfGXPqIoI/s1600/smallville-clark-glasses.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 385px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqhmg9j9WjTcE9SYid0PlHNSOHVC0k7bth1TTaE03pi4FxE9s6jrjx53PFR94DjPY9_FpiOhFMS-btdy9JToMFcZLjNyaGmqFygeAgAXzzs1LsMAVKHv_y7q7rpt0sSIOf6qGfGXPqIoI/s400/smallville-clark-glasses.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533740592434619122" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4. Smallville:</span><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />And lets not forget Lex Luthor. Great villain. interesting to see his descent into darkness as well. <br /><br />But I'd keep watching for years just to get a glimpse of <a href="http://http://www.tomwelling.org/">Tom Welling</a> in those glasses!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJlG-WUng6YnLmWbKAOpHqFYJcQyAj1HVhV5-pKdWqp52RdXq2X3b76SEbHCzhF902bIrF2kDRttjpotYktC5oDStVyQcWxV_ctdzjnBZNvpDLrEOKqFnnYnFKImqtYNFicJ2E76Wu4M/s1600/dexter-season-two-promo-picture.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOJlG-WUng6YnLmWbKAOpHqFYJcQyAj1HVhV5-pKdWqp52RdXq2X3b76SEbHCzhF902bIrF2kDRttjpotYktC5oDStVyQcWxV_ctdzjnBZNvpDLrEOKqFnnYnFKImqtYNFicJ2E76Wu4M/s400/dexter-season-two-promo-picture.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533743353181768370" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3. Dexter: </span><br />How Awesome do you have to be to write a serial killer that we can all root for. Than you <a href="http://http://www.jefflindsay.com/">Jeff Lindsay</a>! 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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />I haven't actually read the books yet, but they are definitely on my list.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAkU30tspF-EqmLPfVWC_cnf4MadqiwGbxlSoxgrCTe_wAK-_mFIKfv983P7dUYxm4H3L8DZkNFdjY5NKuVgS8BhnD9MshIHsBob5CNCyzxTaPxU1hKdvPPYGIfUBjh-eP3gUwhGvBcI/s1600/14465.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAkU30tspF-EqmLPfVWC_cnf4MadqiwGbxlSoxgrCTe_wAK-_mFIKfv983P7dUYxm4H3L8DZkNFdjY5NKuVgS8BhnD9MshIHsBob5CNCyzxTaPxU1hKdvPPYGIfUBjh-eP3gUwhGvBcI/s400/14465.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533745615324408066" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2. Supernatural:</span><br />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! <br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyFhITNFNbXUGg0VcNpdqYzKq4UialREk11avlNBLT7kciGIWvX8gkul3_hsDLIbIIO5Y5iyCvePF7QlY-oIltynVD1J142XURXom19XM0_-PVGP5tLOfNslJJCWlZ7n3H5PIlP-PyFo/s1600/Buffy-Summers.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 363px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyFhITNFNbXUGg0VcNpdqYzKq4UialREk11avlNBLT7kciGIWvX8gkul3_hsDLIbIIO5Y5iyCvePF7QlY-oIltynVD1J142XURXom19XM0_-PVGP5tLOfNslJJCWlZ7n3H5PIlP-PyFo/s400/Buffy-Summers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533748194621679282" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1. Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel</span><br />Last but definitely not least. Everything about this show is sheer genius. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />The characters are unique: they have their own way of dressing, and their own dialogue.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />The main characters make mistakes, and when they do, they have to pay for them. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Check them out if you've got a little spare time. Tell me what you think.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-46144894886801781942010-09-04T06:05:00.003-05:002010-09-04T07:43:56.239-05:00The Road to Lost InnocenceSo 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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />"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."<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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. <br /><br />"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. <br /><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />I feel helpless, the situation is bigger than me. but I can speak up. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />If you'd like to know more about Somaly Mam, you can check out her website <a href="http://www.somaly.org">www.somaly.org.</a> or come see her when she speaks at WTAMU on Thurdsay, October 7, at 5 pm at the first United Bank Center in Canyon.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-2195626288827306992010-08-17T04:53:00.004-05:002010-08-17T08:39:10.032-05:00Two Line TuesdayI snuck a few extra lines in, but they were too good to pass up. From Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon: <br /><br /><em>"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. <br /><br />"You're no verra sensible, Sassenach, but I like ye fine. Let's go."</em><br /><br />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. <br /><br />And my two lines:<br /><br /><em>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. <br />I heard the clatter of the gun hitting the rotted boards of the porch and tried not to look so scared. </em><br /><br />Don't forget to check out more lines at <a href="http://www.womenofmystery.net">women of mystery</a>!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-31020657520606528392010-08-10T11:14:00.003-05:002010-08-10T11:23:22.687-05:00Two Line Tuesday...It's Tuesday. You know what to do. And don't forget to check out what other people contributed at <a href="http://www.womenofmystery.net">Women of Mystery</a>!<br /><br />My two lines:<br /><br /><em>How long would it take me to be die of starvation or thirst? How long would I have to wander in this desert? </em><br /><br />Outlander By Diana Gabaldon. <br /><br />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!<br /><br /><em>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. </em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-75505011796143786982010-08-10T01:16:00.005-05:002010-08-10T01:19:45.091-05:00A little lateMy 3 word wednesday is finally up for last week... sorry it was a little late. <br /><br />A Vague disclaimer is no one's friend: <br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />It was a feeble attempt at humor. <br />His soft chuckle faded into silence when he noticed my smile didn’t quite reach my eyes. <br />I could see the burn in his cheeks as he cleared his throat. <br />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. <br />Adam nervously adjusted his tie and leaned toward me. <br />His arms fell across the tablet and he scooted his chair closer. <br /> Miss manners would be so proud. <br />“So, Melissa tells me that you work for a construction company. That’s interesting.”<br />“Uh, huh.”<br />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. <br />I stared at my drink, untouched in its glass. The ice settled, the tink, tink of it loud in the silence. <br />The waiter brought our food. <br />Italian. How original. <br />He straightened but didn’t touch his food, as if he were waiting for me to begin.<br />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. <br />“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.” <br />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.”<br />“You don’t know a damn thing about me-“<br />“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. <br />All of my righteous indignation was eclipsed by the shock Id felt at having someone talk to me. <br />I opened my mouth to say something but the words wouldn’t come. <br />“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?”<br />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?”<br />Even I couldn’t predict a future that grim for myself. <br />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. <br />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.) <br />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.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-59780218841053906812010-08-03T08:28:00.002-05:002010-08-03T08:43:15.151-05:00Two Line TuesdayTwo lines from the novel (novella) I'm reading now, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, by Stephanie Meyer.<br /><br /><em>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.</em><br /><br />And my two lines:<br /><br /><em>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. </em><br /><br />Check other two lines at the <a href="http://www.womenofmystery.net">women of mystery </a>blog.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-86992989167141561602010-07-29T03:13:00.003-05:002010-07-29T03:45:46.348-05:003 Word WednesdayThis is my first attempt at 3 Word Wednesday, and I love it. Let me know what ya'll think. <br /><br />Abuse <br />Cramp<br />Hatred<br /><br />The hatred I felt often manifested itself in a physical way. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />And I had a lot of imagination.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />I could see it on the faces of everyone in the office. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />My stomach twisted again. <br /><br />I adjusted my glasses, brushed the wispy hair that never quiet stayed in my braid out of my face. <br /><br />I walked slowly, careful to not slosh his coffee. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />For what felt like hours, all I heard was silence. I couldn't move, refusing to look at him. <br /><br />His fingers digging into the soft flesh of my upper arm brought me out of my paralysis. <br /><br />He jerked me to the door, throwing me off balance. <br /><br />As if I needed his help!<br /><br />I tripped again as he dragged me out the door and into the secretaries office. <br /><br />He gave another jerk on my arm, forcing me into the spotlight.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />The horrible realization hit me that he was saving the punishment for an audience.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />He didn't know I wanted him to try to break me. I wanted him to know just how unbreakable I was. <br /><br />But then, he'd never asked me what I wanted. Had he?<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709331546175259121.post-85485860703482056272010-07-29T02:12:00.002-05:002010-07-29T02:35:37.787-05:00UninspiredThe 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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />I sat down to write. <br />I opened facebook. <br />Pandora Radio. Took longer than necessary trying to find what I wanted to listen to. <br />I opened my notebook (cuz I like the feel of writing on paper.)<br />I grabbed my pen. <br />I tapped the end of the pen to the music. <br />I stared at the blank page. <br />I stared at the blank page. <br />And I stared at the blank page. <br /><br />I finally wrote a sentence. <br />I scratched it out. <br />I wrote a sentence, I scratched it out. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Writing is kinda like working out. You can do it when you feel like it. And you can feel proud of yourself for it. <br /><br />But on the days you don't feel good about it, the days you're not <a href="http://traviserwin.blogspot.com/2010/07/zoning-out.html">in the zone</a>- those are often the days you have breakthroughs. <br /><br />Maybe you run an extra mile than you did last week. Maybe you add a 1,000 words to your word count. <br /><br />I wish I could tell you that the chapter I wrote was the greatest thing I've ever written. <br /><br />But I won't. I can't.<br /><br />I haven't read it. <br /><br />I want the words on the page. That's all. <br /><br />Because I'm a writer. And writer's write. <br /><br />And in the end isn't the meaning of success, whether you're running a marathon, or writing a novel, simply not giving up?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704081723842644412noreply@blogger.com2