Listening to Bublé, Wainwright and Deejay: Need I Say More?

Yeah, I got out of the habit of posting. Yeah, yeah, WAY out of the habit. Point taken, sorry.

No really, sorry :'(

And with that behind us, wow today was just awful. As if I needed a reminder of how different I am, and how unappreciated a good sense of humor is these days. Oy. I mean, really, OY.

If there was a bus to Hermitsville going by my apartment right now, I would grab Pangur Ban and Sam and jump on without a seconds thought. It was that bad of a day.

So all day I've been reading Jennifer Armentrout's Lux series to try and distract myself. I've read all three books in the last day and a half (yes, now you really understand how depressing my life is right now). I like them a lot. I'm kind of sick of Katy's elitist book syndrome, which must be a direct manifestation of Armentrout (wow that's a long last name). But Daemon Black is pretty terrific. I hate the way his first name is spelled though. And she needs to get past 'daemon/daimon' in general. And the name alliteration is driving me NUTS. (I have to stop beginning sentences with 'and') I can't tell you how many times I've gotten Daemon and Dawson, or Adam and Andrew and Ash all mixed up because I'm reading über fast. But a good story nonetheless. I really liked the cliffy at the end of Opal (book 3). That was fun.

Yeah, so, meow.

Meow is my new answer to everything. Except today. Today is more of a YOWL day. I hate it when Pangur Ban yowls, but I get it, it's necessary sometimes.

I feel like crying. A lot.

But hey, The Host movie came in the mail yesterday. I could watch that, get my Ian and Jared fill.

I just don't understand how people can stand sucking so much. Seriously, that's got to drag a person down.

Learning Lessons From Others' Mistakes

Wow, had a crazy wake-up call/lesson learned this afternoon.

Some poor, not all that bright blogger wrote a blog in May of this year about a news story and ended up using what he likely thought was a perfectly innocent, likely free photo off the internet.

What he had no idea of at the time (though should have researched) was that the man who both took and starred in the photo is now a writer and very well known actor for a comedy website that many people frequent (myself included). He is a beloved face on the website for his humor, charm and immodesty about his own good looks.

So when this paragon of comedy innocently did an image search on his own face (please, don't act like you've never done it) he was shocked to find this picture of himself just floating wilhe-nilhe about the internet. It was unlicensed and unaccredited everywhere it popped up portraying him as a dufus.

So he went on this comedy website and wrote an article linking back to most, if not all, of the places that had used his picture without permission (including this unsuspecting blogger) and said that, while he was not going to throw a fit or demand people take it down, couldn't they use this more flattering image that he would also provide for free? And thus he posted a similar but unarguably more flattering picture.

In this comedian's defense; it wasn't right for people to use his photo unlicensed and unaccredited and I too would be annoyed to find an unflattering photo of myself floating about the internet with hashtags of #dumbass and #assholes.

In the bloggers defense: When you run a small blog with few readers and less money, it is much easier to find photos via a google image search, than through a professional website that you must pay for and then credit the photographer.

Lessons to be learned: Don't take unflattering photos of yourself and post them on the internet. Don't use unaccredited photos unless you want it to possibly bite you hard in the butt someday.

Now, this poor blogger's previously quiet site has been blown up with comments (unwittingly?) directed there by the comedian...and they are not nice comments.

Possibly Bad People, LJ accounts & Burnt Toast, And A LBD Reference

I don't know why Pangur Ban keeps hissing at my roommate whenever she walks by. My mom thinks it's because my roommate has done something to my cat when I'm not around...but I just don't think she's that bad of a person. ( I rank people who are cruel to animals up there with rapists and serial killers) It's bugging me though, not knowing. I really need to learn how to speak cat, and just ask Pangur.

In other random news; I logged onto my long forgotten LiveJournal account today, BlackAsMySoul (so named for my favorite scene in Chris Moore's book You Suck!). It was a curious thing. I looked back on my early attempts at blogging and saw some good, and some very immature posts. I suppose that I shall feel the same about my early posts on this blog in a few years...but I hope not.

Anywho, it has unduly depressed me. Also, it brought to mind from the grave dead friendships that should remain buried. Even more depressing.

And thus, I am depressed. Hmm. I need a pick-me-up.

I need to do some writing, as well. To get my creative build-up out on paper (or keyboard). Yes, that is what I need. But it is 1 AM. So first, I should probably sleep. Yes. Sleep. A grand idea.

BTDubbs, (As THELydiaBennet (The Lizzie Bennet Diaries) would say) I want to buy books. But Cameo and Damon won't let me...I have to write 1000 words on Shadows On The Wall first. I am depressed. Oh wait, I already said that. Nvm.

39 Reasons

Yestereve whilst at work I let vent to my annoyances by compiling a list. It amuses me to share that list with you now.

39 Reasons
To Be A Hermit

1. People Suck.
2. Rob is not coming back.
3. Quiet.
4. No interruptions when writing.
5. Plenty of long walks.
6. Go to sleep when I want.
7. Wake up when I want.
8. No roommate..
9. Have as many cats as I want.
10. Raise bunnies.
11. No job necessary.
12. Stop being reminded of exes.
13. Read books as often and as long as I want.
15. Get dressed when and how I please.
16. Talk to myself without getting weird looks.
17. No human interaction.
18. Be as sarcastic as I want.
19. Be whomever I want.
20. Act as bichy as I want.
21. Sing loudly.
22. Dance crazy.
23. Go barefoot.
24. Never straighten my hair.
25. No stupid people.
26. Adopt-A-Panther
27. Have a pack of dogs.
28. No longer feign interest.
29. Sleep in the woods, or on the beach.
30. Pretend I am happier alone.
31. Train Pangur to kill.
32. Shooting practice once a day.
33. Hire a Robin-like servant to do my bidding.
34. People suck so bad it hurts behind my eyes..
35. No more people ignorant of their own ignorance.
36. No more meaningless conversations.
37. No more hiding what I think.
38. Start a witch rumor, and follow up on it.
39. People REALLY SUCK.

Postscript: Yes, this was written on a napkin.

Post-Postscript: Yes, the number 39 is a random number I came up with for no very good reason.

Waiting On The World

And I keep waiting, waiting on the world.


I seem to be having one of the rough days. The kind where it seems like everything is in slow motion, just waiting on that first spark that catches.

Do you know, when you're reading a book and at some point a week goes by in steady time for the main character and the author just summarizes it in a few paragraphs?

I feel as though this year and maybe even last year, could be summarized in a few paragraphs and just slipped into the middle of the book. It's the kind of thing a reader guiltily skims through, not really worried about the down time, but not appreciating that the main character had to go through all of that. Every minute of it, experience it all...and you just skimmed a couple paragraphs and it was over.

I'm not trying to make you feel bad (well, maybe a little) but you have to admit, the analogy brings a certain poignancy to the boredom that is right now for me.


On the upside, I might be getting some time off from work in the next couple months where I could possibly devote a large amount of time to writing.

I have been feeling mentally constipated (I apologize for the crudity, but that is truly the best metaphor) lately and really need to get it all out on paper. I figure, time off and no money will prove a very good laxative.

Now I really feel bad about that metaphor. Seriously, I am sorry. This sort of thing will only get worse until I find time to really write.

Why NOT To Piss Off A Writer

File this under the heading: Why Not To Piss Off A Writer

Okay?

Moving forward; yesterday's work night was a good night. Why? Well, certainly not because a certain coworker has been pushing me patience toward it's limit. Actually, it's because I was a smart little cookie (writer, rather) and brought my beloved Black n' Red with me.

Black n' Red(tm) Notebook,
my good friend

So, when aforementioned jerk started pushing me, I was able to simply take out my notebook and escape the inane stupidity that was trying to force itself upon me.

I wrote most of a scene from the next book, Shadows On TheWall, in which Anthony finally pushes David to the point of violence. And you must understand, David is much like me in the respect that, while he talks a good game, he is generally laid back and non-violent.

Anywho, so, Anthony got thrown through a window (about ten stories up in a hotel) and now Cameo is cowering in the corner. And I feel fine! It's nice to be able to express myself so eloquently.

So, kids, remember this the next time you are pissing off a writer. We may not react much outwardly, but you are on our kill-off list.

There are only two types of people who sit around thinking of ways to kill off people:

Psychopaths,

and writers.

 As Castle would say, I'm the one that pays better.

A Scattered Accounting

Whoo, so it's been a little while since I blogged. Sorry 'bout that ya'll. I've been terribly scattered lately. I really do need an assistant to keep me organized. Between trying to make sure all the bills get paid on time, working six days a week, the apartment stays clean, Pangur Ban is fed-oh crap I forgot to refill her dish, dammit!
Hold on a sec, I'll be right back.....
Okay! So, as you might guess, blogging is not exactly at the top of the list. It's true, there have been several times in the last couple weeks where I have wanted to blog, but it's usually about silly things that probably only matter to eccentric, hermit-wannabe authors like me.


My CafePress shirt,
from CASTLE(abc TV show)

I haven't been writing much if at all, and it's seriously frustrating me. Logically, I know that I'll be much more emotionally stable if I get a few chapters out of my system, but I'm rebelling for some stupid reason.
I downloaded Flyleaf's 2009 album, Memento Mori, last week and I have been listening almost exclusively to it since. Literally, all of my side thoughts have been expressed in lyrics lately. It's wonderful in a frustratingly plagiaristic sort of way.

Also, I'm close to launching into a full rant on the topic of cuss words. It is a topic that frustrates me considerably, as I can see both sides of the story and wish only that everyone else could. They are WORDS. Words have only the power we give them. So, like anything else, the spirit in which they are used must be taken into consideration before sentencing someone.

Perhaps scattered was not a strong enough word to use to describe me lately. In fact, an example might best serve to demonstrate.

Today I woke up, fed Pangur, showered, filled out my CA voting ballot, called my dad, got dressed, checked the mail, drove to drop off my ballot, paid my electricity bill, went to the bank, filled out a credit card application, called my mom, texted my brother, surfed Amazon, checked FB, dA and YouTube, read the first 2 chapters of The Golden Lily, by Richelle Mead, and then realized it was 1:30 pm and I hadn't had anything to eat.

Now, normally in a day I might accomplish 3 of those things. In a WHOLE day, not in a matter of hours. I mean truthfully, out of all those, only 3 things. I could have a day where all I do is feed Pangur, shower and surf Amazon. And that is typical.
And now that I have to leave for work in half an hour I realize that I forgot to call the tire store about my car. Even though I made a list (a very scattered, crazy list of things to do, things to buy, and things to remember).
I'm this cose *hold up fingers about an inch apart* to giving up. I need an assistant, a keeper....
And for some reason, I am sounding more and more like Damon when I lose my temper, I keep saying things like "Bloody hell!" and "Blast it!" and "Oh for the love of..." I think I hang out with him too much. Actually, he's been avoiding me a bit lately, my hectic moods make him uncomfortable.

I think if I could convince myself to go to sleep before 2 am I might be able to start waking up earlier and actually accomplish something.
Off topic(not that there was a specific topic): I think I want the soundtrack to the new Underworld movie...I love Lacey Sturm's and Evanescence's contribution there.

I believe, what if I believe you? Forgive, relieve me, please come back to life. Come back to my life.

But She Has A Great Personality!

I was looking at someone I've know for about five months today. Not a friend, just an acquaintance that I'm not overly fond of. As I looked, I realized that the person was really very unattractive. This seems harsh, I know, but allow me to explain.

I realized right after this exactly how harsh that really was, and immediately began to question my realization. Why was this person suddenly so unattractive, I asked myself? It came to me that this wasn't a sudden development. Rather, over the time I have known this person they have been slipping more and more in my perception. Perhaps interestingly, their outward appearance has not altered in that time, but I have grown to know them better and I realized that their insides were ugly.

The person is not attractive in physical aspects, but if their personality was better then it would be something easily overlooked. It's a cliche I know, but the line "oh, but they have a great personality" is true. Some people are plain or even unattractive by society's standards, but they have shining warmth and good humor which makes them beautiful.

In contrast to this person I was examining today, a few years ago I met a young man in a work situation (I no longer know him, so I feel I may be a little freer with details). When I met the young man, my first impression was not complimentary. Aside from his rather plain exterior, he seemed to have a sour disposition, and not much of a sense of humor. Being that it was a work situation, and not merely social, I was forced to endure this man whom I had immediately judged to be a donkey's rear end.

Day by day, I realized I was wrong. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, an incredible sense of duty, and ambition up the wazoo.

As time as passed, I have realized how much we were actually alike. It has given me a nightmare of how people may in fact preceive me upon first meeting.

As my observations of his inner self grew, the way I saw his exterior changed as well. The plain young man was replaced by someone I respected and liked. I became attached and considered him a friend, and then began to wish for more. I didn't know at the time how my perception of him had altered from what a casual observer might find, until I introduced him to my best friend at the time.

She, of course, knew my feelings on the topic of him, and from my descriptions expected some godly representation of a man. Upon finding a rather plain, apparently serious young man, she was disappointed and did not hesitate much to tell me so.

There is a person I know now for whom I have enormous liking (friendship wise, don't get any ideas) and as I had this entire thought process today I began to wonder if my perception of this person had changed as well. As I thought, I couldn't see that it had, because this person had presented to me a warm, humorous exterior from the start. I came to the conclusion rather swiftly that I could not judge whether or not this person was attractive, because I had a biased opinion. The personality of this person is such that I would answer in the affirmative almost no matter what.

I could go over every relationship, of every degree, that I engage in with the humans around me, and find dozens more examples of this.

I am writing this morning to tell you, quite simply, that your personality (at least for me) is at least 80% of the beauty (or lack thereof) that I will perceive within you. First impressions are not always lasting. If I am wrong about you, and you show me, then I will change my opinions and my impression of you.

This has made me think of who I project to others, as well. I haven't been able to decide if I like who I think I'm projecting. Or, rather, if I like how people may be perceiving me. As I am sure I have said many times before, I really like myself. I do. But I know that not everyone is going to, and selfishly, I want them all to.

Food for thought.

On a side note: I am sunburned and uncomfortable. PALE AND PROUD! (my version of P & P)

Out of Frustrating Sometimes Comes Some Good

My scheduler at work has been annoying me rather significantly lately. You see, I am supposed to be a server/busser in our restaurant. Lately though, I have been scheduled to cashier. The problem should be clear to anyone in the restaurant business, but if you aren't I will explain:

Servers make mullah tips.
Bussers make so-so tips.
Cashiers make next to no tips.

The reason I left my former job for a job that pays a full dollar an hour less was that I would be making tips. In the first couple of months at my job I was making about $700/month in tips, and only $750 in actual paychecks.

So, instead of only making $8/hr, I was in fact making about $18/hr...nearly unheard of in this county.

Now, cashiering, I am making much, much less. Barely enough to survive on. Actually, I am not making enough to survive on. I have made my issues known, and have been assured that it will only be for about another week, but still I am very tight on cash.

The good that has come out of this very frustrating bad is this: Cashiering is so damn boring and slow that I have been able to roughly outline the entire first half of Shadows On The Wall this week. HUZZAH!

Unfortunately, I have come across a new problem: a plothole.(Like a pothole in the road, only it's in the storyline).

A plothole right smack dab in the middle of the book. The rough draft that I wrote approx. 6 years ago has this huge hole, like a time vortex that one of the characters just slipped into and disappeared while the others carried on as if nothing had happened. I mean, they should feel really awful for letting that happen...terrible human  beings.

I think I have come up with a cure for the plothole, but getting the story back on track after that hole may in fact be difficult.

Nonetheless, the fact that I have had so much idle time on my hands at work lately has brought this bugger of a problem to my attention far before it became a really difficult issue.

I suppose I should be a bit on the thankful side that I have had the extra time, but my wallet and bank account are not feeling very magnanimous.

This looking on the bright side post brought to you by: Shanco.corporations.
(Lobbied against by: The wallet and bank account of Shannon A Hiner.)


On a completely unrelated side note: Long time and very successful authors may not be effected so much by their reviews on book selling websites, but I certainly am. I feel that it is necessary to give a hugely thankful shout out to my first reviewer in the iTunes bookstore, a certain Beekersc. I appreciate so much that you took the time to not only read Only The Stars Know but to also leave a few lines telling others how much you enjoyed it.

Only The Stars Know in the iTunes Store
Remember everyone: A book read, but not reviewed, kills a faerie. No joke.

When Being Happy Becomes A Problem

So, I'm pretty content at the moment. Yep. I mean, sure, there are a few things that I would love to change (having to work in customer service, oversleeping the alarm everyday, basically talking to myself and receiving odd looks for it), but on the whole I've been fairly happy in the last month.

I've settled in at the new job, got rid of the troublesome roommate, and I've been very adventurous in the kitchen lately. I'm practically on cloud nine.

Are you wondering why it almost sounds as though I am complaining?

Well, see here's the problem: I'm rewriting Shadows On The Wall. What, you mean that one sentence doesn't answer all your questions? I suppose I will explain then.

When I originally wrote Shadows On the Wall it was the spring of 2006. My sophomore year of high school, and also the year I passed the CA HS Proficiency Exam and left high school behind forever. It was the year I got my license, my first job, and we moved from Modesto to Oroville. BIG Year. (I also started writing Die For Me Again, but that was in the autumn.)

In the Spring of 2006 I let myself fall in deep deep like with someone entirely unsuitable and unavailable to me. I already loved this boy as a friend, so it was doubly bad. Unwittingly, he ended up breaking my heart that spring, or rather, I let my heart break over him. He really didn't do anything to break it, so I shouldn't blame him.

Well, those of you who don't know me all that well will not realize how catastrophic this was. I don't just get crushes on guys, when I decide I like them I go head over freaking high heels and totally lose my heart. No, really, I don't do anything halfway, especially not love. So while this wonderful boy thought we were just really good friends, I was in fact losing my mind over why he didn't like me in the same way.

When I realized he never would, and that I couldn't simply be 'just friends' with him, my heart did a weepy little break in two and I haven't been the same since. I believe that was the first time my heart was truly broken. (There have honestly only been two times in twenty-two years).

In the year following this heart break I completed two novels in the Immortal World series, one and a half standalone novels, and droves upon droves of weepy heartbroken prose.

Have you caught on yet? When I am heartbroken I write like crazy. And apparently, I write rather well because two of the most popular IW books came out of utter heartbreak.

I am now faced with two distinctly different problems, both resulting from the fact that I am in a happy state of mind currently:

1. I can't seem to write easily when I am happy.
2. Shadows On The Wall is a very emotionally stormy book, with deep lows--something that is quite hard to write from a good mood.

The answer? I'm not sure. I suppose I could go out and find some completely unsuitable man to fall head over heels for, in the hopes that he will tear my heart asunder and leave me a wasted shell of a woman....but that seems like an awful lot of work, and plus, there really aren't any worthy males to be had at the moment.

Nope, I just don't know. It's a problem, that is for certain.

Suggestions are welcome (with the understanding that, depending upon my mood, I may rip them apart or take them out of context or do any number of annoying/shannon-like things with them).

Obsessions, Procrastination and Possibly Some ADD

I am absolutely obsessed with the coast of California. I'm really not sure why. The ocean is too cold this far North to really enjoy. The beaches are mostly rocky and there are tons of hippies all around, but I can't seem to stop researching, viewing pictures of, and visiting the coast. I love it. It's the most beautiful place on Earth to me.

Yesterday I was online and somehow (I really don't remember how) I ended up looking at a map of the state up toward Crescent City. An hour later I was doing research on estuarine lagoons and an hour after that I was trying to figure out how to place a story around it. I know, this is ridiculous!

Anyway, I'm trying to apologize in advance in case any odd coastal scenes pop up in the next couple books. Like I said I can't seem to help it.

I'm having a lot of trouble with procrastination and concentration lately. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Damon smacked down another ultimatum soon. I'm trying to avoid that, but I make no promises. I'm out of unread books at the moment, having just finished 2 in the last 3 days. I will try very hard not to order anymore for some time. I have a bad case of trigger finger whenever I am on Amazon.

That should, naturally, mean I should avoid Amazon, but you see: I end up on Amazon as a result of viewing book trailers on YouTube. And I end up on YouTube because I see book ads on Facebook. And of course, I'm on Facebook to let you know that I just wrote another blog. Vicious circle it is.

The upshot of this is, after I finish this blog and let you all know that I have written it, I will probably end up ordering another book. I should probably be banned from the internet, but let's face it, that's not going to happen.

Well, I have started the first chapter of Shadows On The Wall, but as I said, concentration is at an all time low here. I have got to stop renting movies constantly, and going to see movies. But this month is golden as far as movies go. This weekend is definitely taken up, what with The Hunger Games. Two weeks ago it was John Carter. Two weeks from now Mirror Mirror comes out, and of course I will have to see MIB3 as well. Should be interesting...

If any of you are in the habit of praying to anyone, you might send out a request for me to have concentration and some sticktoitiveness. That would be wonderful.

Scrappy Prose and a Note

My own expectations weigh heavily
Pressing down upon my shoulders
Burying me beneath their crushing force
Masking my natural sunniness
With a quiet, forced formality.

This is not me, I scream
Silenced by the distance
That keeps me cut off from all
Only the most persistent
Find me in this dank, creeping jail

Am I lost here in my self-imposed
Prison with walls so high
I can’t see over, wander about
Aimless and without the desperation
Necessary to escape this exile

Defeat claws at my feet
Reaching to take me, keep me
Please just let me get away from
The apathy of sameness, always the same
Want to feel, be and see the world beyond

Trapped in the now and don’t know
How to see the future or even
The way to reach what I know is my
Destiny sleeping at my door, still asleep
As I scream and cry and beg for it to find me.
                                                                                

So I've got 2 prologues of epic goodness staring at me, questioning who will be first. 1) Shadows On The Wall and 2) In The Darkness Remain. While I am truly torn between them, I think in the interest of publishing order I should work on Shadows On The Wall next.

Damon says he doesn't care, as long as I'm writing something.

Progress reports should be forthcoming in the weeks ahead. Wish me luck.

The Official End

...of the Hiatus!!!

Huzzah!

About one and a half weeks after my last post I found someone I thought would be a good roommate for me. We discussed the situation thoroughly and found that we are complimentary in many aspects, though not so wrapped up in each other to pose the possible friend problem*.

My roommate is now a person who is quieter than me, studious, not a drinker, never heard of a drug, cleans her dishes directly after using them, and only speaks when spoken to. That last one actually gnaws at me a bit, I constantly feel as though I should say something because she is so dang quiet. Makes me into a bit of a chatter bug.

So the living situation is much altered and for the better. We also found a different apartment to move into, and now I have had the pleasure of decorating a place for myself without having to deal with someone whose tastes are so many worlds apart from mine. I also trust my new roommate enough to display my books in the common areas, as well as my precious breakables (tea cups, tea pots and the like) ((all my tea paraphernalia)) (((yes, I like tea that much! Don't laugh at me!))).

Life proceeds much the same at my job, there are a few people getting on my nerves, but I can handle it (with a knife buahahahaa!)

Now that I am all unpacked and happily settled in, I feel it is time to call an end to the Hiatus I declared.  I am ready to put my mind back to work on what is truly important to me. I have missed my characters sorely this last month, and Damon keeps giving me pointed looks so I know it is definitely time.

To prove my devotion to getting back on track, I have some prose that I've been working on the last few days. It's almost ready, and I shall share as soon as I am done.

Thank you, my precious readers, for your infinite patience (who am I kidding? You? or maybe you?)

On an off note, there is a movie coming out every Friday this month that I want to see. How awesome is that?! Starting with John Carter, Mirror Mirror, then The Hunger Games and on through Men In Black 3...this is freaking fantastic! The movie gods are on my side for once! (either that or they are conspiring to empty my wallet)

Again, thank you all for reading and staying with me, be on the lookout for Scraps, Prose and Fun Bits from me!!!

*PFP: Where you move in with someone who is a really really good friend and then you discover just how annoying this person is to live with and it ruins both your friendship and your roommate situation.

Just A Human

Last night I was laying down, wondering what it would be like to find out I'm a shape shifter, so far into life already. I mean, the who I am that I am I have already molded and decided I like. But what if something were to change drastically, something I could not hope to control or dictate?

It was while I was pondering this that Damon walked in, presumably for an update on how In The Darkness Remain was coming along. Before he could ask, I asked him a question instead.

"Damon, do you think there is any possibility, likelihood, or chance that I could have some latent powers or abilities that might make me non-human or an abnormal human?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he said slowly, "Why?"

"Because...I know that for a human I am extraordinary and different. That sounds conceited, but I really do have faith in those facts. But, I guess it's because of all my time around non-humans, I always feel as if I'm 'just a human'. in the Immortal World it's not, 'Oh, he's a vampe and she's a human.' No, she is just a human. I am just a human. I want to be more than that."

A little smile was creeping across his face as he regarded me, "So, instead of protesting the unfair treatment of humans, you are simply wanting to be something else?"

"Well, yeah, I want to strive for more, better...I don't want the bar lowered so that I can reach it. I want to achieve reaching the bar on my own."

The smile was whole now as he stared at me, "Can you imagine if everyone thought like that? Striving for better instead of expecting the world to lower it's standards to their level?"


As a footnote to this story, I would like to add that Damon is considered to be speciesist which is the equivalent of a racist but towards other species. My post script would be that I am not a fan of people who wave the word 'racist' around. There is racism left in the world, no doubt. But waving the word around is as irresponsible and offensive as the act itself. Think before you use the word, think hard.

A Trip To The Levee

A stork lifted off the water, canting gracefully through the trees. Its snow white feathers flashed through the dead brown trees like a beacon. On the other side of the river another stork called to it and they met in the middle, diving toward the water and then lifting back into the sky, side by side.

The duck shook its head and then dipped its neck back down into the water in search of lunch.

Ripples in the water flowed with the cool breeze, while underneath the river flowed the opposite way with deceptive strength.

Across the river a hawk landed on one of the trees. Her wings stretched out to enjoy the breeze as she balanced precariously on the edge of a branch. She called out for her mate, and the sound echoed across the river, but he did not come. She called again and then took off, circling the trees and eyeing the water.

Damon's Ultimatum

Damon's Ultimatum...Translation: I got myself in trouble with my character and now I am going to be punished accordingly.

Last night we were driving home from my parents house, Damon and I, that is, and he said in his normal quiet tone, "Will you be working on the book tonight?"

I knew he meant In The Darkness Remain, for I had stupidly told him I wanted to start the prologue soon. I had, also stupidly, thought aloud to myself that I should write it that night, while I was in between reading books.

I hesitated before answering him. I knew he had heard my still liquid-like plans and I knew he realized how easily I would push them aside. At the same time, I really did want to work on the story. It's just, I had been awake since 8am (a near unbelievable feat for me) and it was already 11pm...and I was tired...Okay so I'm rationalizing. But really, what did he expect? We've known each other for almost 8 years, if he doesn't know me by now then there is really no hope.

So I stopped hesitating finally and said, albeit haltingly, "I had considered it."

His voice somehow went lower as he said, "I think you should."

In fairness, I do know that tone. I know it means trouble, and I know that if I decide to ignore it I will regret it.

As I walked into my apartment and set my things down, I went through my normal routine: let Pangur out of my room, feed Pangur, put away laundry(aka throw it on the ground and hope it puts itself away), make cup of tea, turn on Sam, sit in front of Sam sipping tea, check email, check ads, check sales, check blog....

So 12:30am rolls around and I'm really tired now. I think about picking up my newly arrived Sherrilyn Kenyon book, the 2nd in Nick's trilogy!, and put it back down because I feel guilty... I turned on the TV, watched a rerun episode of an old sitcom...turned off TV...fell asleep at a 1am.

Long story not so short: I'm in trouble. I am now forbidden to touch any of my newly arrived unread books (2 at the moment with a 3rd still in transit) until I have written the prologue. Those of you who know me well understand what a horrible sentence this is. Not touch books? Not read my new books? WHAAAT?

Well, like I said, I always regret it when I ignore that tone from Damon. There is no question of me not adhering to this edict either. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Alas, there shall be no more reading until In The Darkness Remain is properly started. I never thought I would miss Angela as a main character after finishing Die For Me Again, but she is a fluffy bunny compared to Damon's slave master approach.

...hmm...slave master... *evil smile*

Review of Mastiff, by Tamora Pierce

Mastiff by Tamora Pierce
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Reviews that start with, "First, let me say how much I love this author and this series..." are never good for a reader to see. Unfortunately, a lot of Beka and Tamora fans are going to be saying that.

As a standalone book this is amazing. A sort of Medieval Without A Trace. This is not a disappointing book, it is a different book.

First of all, do yourself a favor and read Terrier and Bloodhound first. They are wonderful stories and you will never be able to enjoy them the same once you've read Mastiff.

Beka is back and she is the same amazingly good, shy, loyal and incredibly intelligent young woman we all love and remember. Her surroundings have changed considerably though. She's pulled from the Lower City of Corus and thrust into the Northern wilds of Tortall in order to find the crown prince, a four year old who has been kidnapped in order to destroy and replace the monarchy.

Along comes trusty* Tunstall, her partner who is a wonderful sort of father/brother figure. Pounce and Achoo are along as well, providing much of the lightheartedness. Lady Sabine, who keeps a leash on Tunstall's moodiness. And a new character, Farmer Cape, a kennel mage from Blue Harbor who is either a complete fool, or the smartest one of all.

The good first:

Farmer Cape: A wonderful character! So well developed, so well thought out...he had me guessing in the first 50 or so pages, but once I got him I instantly loved him. He's a rascal that one, but a really good guy at the core. I think this is possibly the best character that Tamora has ever written, replacing Nawat and Nealan in my affections.

Gershom: The main father figure for Beka, and a great man he is. We don't see a lot of him, as per usual, but everytime you see him he's so in character that you love him. It was because he vouched for Farmer that I could trust a new mage.

The bad guys: They are seriously bad. I mean really. I was impressed and sickened by the zeal with which they killed things. Younger audiences will likely need supervision reading this, because if their imaginations are good this could induce nightmares. Holes blown in castles, people being melted, eaten by bugs and flies, strangled and left for dead wherever they are killed. Bloody I tell you.

I liked the pacing in this book too. I have read that some felt it too slow, others too fast, but I'm happily in the middle. It felt realistic in length, and I'm glad there's over 500 pages. The Hunt was vvery real, and quite frustrating at times, but that is what makes Tamora so good. That and how compelling her characters are.

The Epilogue is genius and totally makes me want to read Song of the Lioness again, even though I recently finished it (for the sixth time).

The Bads:

I was firmly in Camp Rosto and have been terribly disappointed in this respect during the last two books. I really wish he had been more in the mix. That being said, I think Farmer was a much better choice for Beka. They are highly complimentary personalities and it will not try her honor to be with him as it would with Rosto, King of Thieves.

Tunstall: Heart=broken. I love, love LOVE Tunstall and the twist just shattered me. I was really hoping that Beka was wrong about a traitor among the four of them, but I should have realized that couldn't be so. I would have been more comfortable with it being Sabine whom I never liked much. I think the fact that this twist has inspired such passionate reactions is likely the work of genius, but I am too close to the event to see clearly. All I know is how much I love Tunstall and how completely out of character his actions were in this book. I also think Beka should have been even more broken up, but realize perhaps she did not wish to dwell on that in her writing.

I do not believe that I will be able to read Terrier and Bloodhound again for some time though, as I will constantly be looking at Tunstall with disbelief and shock.

This book was much different from Tamora's other writings, but the Beka Cooper books have been different from the beginning, having a much more police-show orient than medieval lords and ladies feel. I reallly did love it, but I am still trying to get over Tunstall.

I think the hallmark of a good series is this though: I wish there was another book coming!

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Goodreads Review: Hush, Hush

Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

It took me approximately 3 1/2 hours, reading straight through, to finish this book. That is including the time my cat would jump on the book and force me to lose my place.)

Becca Fitzpatrick is a good writer, she has a good feel for suspense and she knows how to keep the reader guessing. Unfortunately, this is becoming a tired storyline very fast.

Beware, spoilers lie ahead.

We all know the story, right? Teenage girl gets thrown together with hot, standoffish boy who makes her sincerely uncomfortable. It develops into romance, there is a lot of danger associated with possibly loving him..someone dies in the end. These are pretty much givens.

While the overall plot was comfortable (or highly predictable, rather) Ms. Fitzpatrick's own unique style did add some truly good moments. Interactions with Patch are, appropriately, very uncomfortable at first. But towards the end when he starts relaxing around Nora he develops into a more likeable character.

There are some unrealistic acts where disbelief can be suspended by the reader based on the beings performing them: angels (ie. An angel becomes the new psychologist for the high school with no problem).
On the otherhand, there are times when the humans commit these unbelievable acts as well. While Nora's mother comes across as a nice, caring woman, she somehow finds it okay to leave her 16 year old daughter home alone in a rural setting for days on end. Forget the elderly housekeeper, this kid is ALONE at night. Had the mother been put forth as absent minded and apathetic this would be acceptable, but she genuinely seems to be a loving mother.

Vee, Nora's supposed soul sister and best friend constantly disregards Nora's feelings. Now I know there are many people who behave this way to their friends, but she honestly did not have enough lovable moments to justify the hell she puts Nora through towards the end. If my own best friend acted in such a way, she would nolonger be my best friend.
Coach, the biology teacher (yeah, try THAT one on for size) doesn't find it odd or put a stop to the fact that Patch is behaving completely inappropriately for a classroom setting. And was it a biology class or sex-ed? Because I'm still really confused by that turn of events. I understand that Fitzpatrick was using it as a plot mover to get Patch hitting on Nora, but honestly it felt really really weird.

I like the fact that Patch becomes the anti-hero. He's not meant to be the hero in the beginning, he's supposed to be the bad guy. But over a short time he shifts, believably, and becomes the protector and good guy...good thing because it's his enemies out to kill Nora.
The good news is that I'm definitely interested in seeing where Fitzpatrick takes this in the sequels. I just hope that she gets more original in her plotline, because she has the talent to carry a good tale.
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The ESBS (aka: essbus)

Curtesy Google Images

In just over a week I will be celebrating a wonderful anniversary.

On November the 9th, 1989, a very wonderful thing happened to me. At the time I wasn't too pleased, but I have since grown to appreciate the event. On that very special evening I was separated (physically) from my mother, and became a part of this world.

For those of you not already following, that was my day of birth.

Now, I love receiving presents on my birthday. Actually, I just love receiving presents. And while I recognize that presents are a symbol that my friends and family love, appreciate me and are essentially glad that I was born, I also realize that I am not necessarily easy to love.

I am pretty much obnoxious. In an already loud family, I'm probably the loudest. I'm really really bossy, and prone to pouting when I don't get my way. I don't feel a need to change these things, they are what make me-me.

On the other hand, I do understand that I am not easy to live with. Therefore, it has been my decision that birthdays should also be a day to convince people why they really should celebrate my birth.

Thus! The ESBS was created! That is, the-

Extra Special Birthday Surprise!

Naturally, I cannot tell you what it is, but if you check this blog on my birthday, you'll see it.

I do have a plan though, a very awesome one. I even checked with my editor and she gave it a go. Stick around to see!

Journal Entry

I've been keeping a journal of things that inspire me and little ideas I get. Well, the other night was so beautiful that my journal entry almost captured the incredible feeling.


Day: …I’ve lost count

Last night I drove up to the dam. I walked out on it, feeling stupid. Why was I tempting the fates? It was somewhere between eleven and midnight, just tempting the fates. There were a few other cars up there, hardly a person to be seen.

Despite my valid fears of rape, abduction and/or death, as soon as I was in the wind I could no longer question my motives. My sanity, perhaps, but not my motives.

What is it about that place that calls to me? Sings to me…so deeply. Just standing there with the wind stinging my eyes, whipping my carefully styled hair into a frenzy. I have never felt so calm, so right with the world.

Only a little way below, the waters of the lake lapped at the dam, begging for release. The dam stood solid and firm though, no mere waters could bring it down. The pride that was evident in its tall, strong structure was echoed in the view from the other side. The valley stretched out. It’s night time magnificence outshone any beauty that could be found within during the day.

I stood still, yet wavering. How could I keep my eyes open when they were assaulted with such wicked perfection? But worse, how could I possibly close them?

The wind was speaking to me and I strained to understand the words. It tossed my hair in frustration when I did not understand immediately. I listened harder and when I felt that I understood, such peace flowed throughout me. I felt that I must collapse, so I leaned against a light pillar.

It was all that I could do to suck in deep breaths of the lake air. The stars were glorious overhead. Their peace was in the extravagant normalcy of their being. Yes, I could see them from my apartment if I chose. But who could appreciate them more from there, than I did from atop the dam?

It was long minutes before I could convince myself to leave. Already I am full of foolish ideas of returning, though hopefully at a slightly less dangerous hour.

~.~.~

It is was this night that I had an inkling for a new book. And in the days since it has blossomed.