Stream of consciousness but for goodness sake don't cross the streams!

I think it's getting possible that I hate blogger. I'm debating wordpress for two reasons: one it looks easier to manage with a functionality that will allow for creativity and two: most of my favorite writers have one if I want to steal a page from their book regarding success, it seems like a good idea.

Of course, how many would follow me that long trek into the good night - of the internet.

Arctic Monkeys' first album is playing, my husband is showering (and the awesome scent of his body wash is wafting out into the living room making him quite edible), I'm more than a little upset about my life choices, I'm trying to make headway into Chapter 7 (i know where I'm going but just not how to get there) and I have to worry about the 4th annual holiday party at my place on saturday. That is the painted picture of my environment/mood.

So, today sort of sucked. It did, it really did. Blatant whispers in my ear about how I should be better than I am, does not make CJ a happy person. In fact I have this latent sense of apathy that comes out every now and again it becomes a sort of spiteful outlet. It doesn't do anyone good but it feels good for about ten minutes.

And then I wake up.

Speaking of, my dreams have been pretty awesome lately.

The rest of this week workwise will suck and no, I really don't give a shit about how or if this information is disseminated. I'm tired of most of the shit that occurs around me.

On another note, I'm reading "Three Days to Dead" by Kelly Meding and very much liking it. I'm almost done and her writing reminds me of me - just not quite.

NCIS was on tonight and I'm pissed about the spoilers I've read about how there will be no Ziva/Tony action. It goes to show that Hollywood writers/creators are scared little shits when it comes to their audience. Reminds me of some people that I work with.

AND on that note. I will leave you with something a little less bitter; a little less mouth swellingly tart - there is about two more weeks of 2009 left. Enjoy it.

This will be the last time I ever do your hair

The Scissor Sisters make me want to dress up in a silver lame suit, sprinkle glitter all over myself (a la David Bowie - late 70's) and go out dancing with a bunch of random people.

Of course, I did just see a car commercial and a rum commercial, so it could be less the Scissor Sisters and more of the subliminal messages.

Open Letter to U2

Dear Bono & U2 -

Hi guys, just wanted to drop a line and see how you're doing. How's the fund-raising for Africa and AIDS and all that? Hope it's going well. I debated spending a lot of money on a poor quality GAP Red shirt and then quickly thought against it. How about we buy a shirt that is good quality and the proceeds and the shirt go to those in need? I'm sure Americans don't really need flannel/polo/wool/mock turtleneck shirt.

Anyhoo, this is besides the point. I actually applaud that you are trying to do good in the world. In fact, you may just want to focus on that.

I hate to break this to you .... and don't take this the wrong way ... but lately, your music? Well, it's been ... how do you say .... uninspiring, boring and very very amateur-ish.

Let's just take for example, Sunday Bloody Sunday from War. I know that this may not be that fair but this is an example of your songwriting skills at it's best!


Broken bottles under children's feet
Bodies strewn across the dead-end street
But I won't heed the battle call
It puts my back up, puts my back up against the wall...


sigh. 


I know you were singing about Bloody Sunday in Northern Ireland and your music was a little more Irish political but JMJ! Those are some great lyrics, the imagery and the tone just....wow. It wasn't a hit for nothing guys!


Now, I'm going to compare it to a recent song off of your last album. I hate to admit it but I have no idea what the title of the album is or when it came out. You've disillusioned me boys. However, I've heard a new song from Absolute Radio and shook my head. This is from No Line on the Horizon- the song is I'll Go Crazy if I Don't Go Crazy Tonight.

It's not a hill, it's a mountain
As you start out the climb
Do you believe me, or are you doubting
We're gonna make it all the way to the light
But I know I'll go crazy if I don't go crazy tonight

Um, what?

I'm not even sure that I know what that means. Why are you going crazy? Why do you need to go crazy? What light are you heading towards? I mean, you don't have to listen to me, but I don't think that's a good idea. All of the horror movies I've ever seen say specifically to step away from the light.


But hey, you're crazy or something - right?

Just...just do me a favor. Take a break to reevaluate or how about this - use your powers for good. Save a manatee, save a cookie, save a cowboy...just please stop using your waning songwriting skills...it hurts. It just hurts too goddamn much.


Signed,

A flustered fan

This is more of a post to let you know that I am alive. I have finished Chapter 5 of my Zombies, Diseases and Lurve manuscript and desperately scrambling to try and finish chapter 6. Why? I am trying to finish this before my birthday (April) so I can at least start on my goal of being a published writer before 30 (it's sooner rather than later).

And while I write, read and worry about how to tackle Borderlands....read a review. It'll make you taller!



by Georgette Heyer

I've only read two Georgette Heyer books but this is my favorite so far. It's a tale of the wicked, the innocent, the wayward and the lamb leading the wolf. I literally just finished reading it and I don't want to go into too much for fear that I will spoil it! I found Leonie to be a breath of fresh air as a character - and a woman at that! - in that time period. She is neither stupid nor completely innocent but she is young and hot tempered. She says what she thinks, wheth...more I've only read two Georgette Heyer books but this is my favorite so far. It's a tale of the wicked, the innocent, the wayward and the lamb leading the wolf. I literally just finished reading it and I don't want to go into too much for fear that I will spoil it! I found Leonie to be a breath of fresh air as a character - and a woman at that! - in that time period. She is neither stupid nor completely innocent but she is young and hot tempered. She says what she thinks, whether she should or no, and her absolute loyalty to a man that the world refers to as Satanas is a little startling but speaks to the fierceness of her character. Justin is the older gentleman, Leonie's "warder" and the one who sets up a game that ends with a poetic justice that leaves the reader as excited as Leonie is when she learns what happens. Justin's past is as dark and clouded as his reputation. While he may play the part of the dandy (by his clothes) he is quite like a wolf. Beautiful to look at and watch as they pounce but dangerous in his hunting and swift takedown. He is considered the omniscient one yet he doesn't fully realize just how much Leonie's loyalty is wrapped in a love that they both don't fully comprehend. This book is darker than Friday's Child but the dialogue is amazing, the action makes for a page-turner and the eventual reveal of their emotions is like a complicated piece of classical music that you can't comprehend how difficult it is because it sounds beautiful and by darn, they make it look easy. If you are a fan of historical fiction with a bent of romance, Heyer is truly one of the masters. She has paved the way for both Lauren Willig's The Secret History of the Pink Carnation and the mystery romance of Deanna Raybourn's seriesSilent In The Grave.

Tiny tiny excerpt from Chapter 5.

Even as a large part of her knew that it wasn’t her fault, that none of her choices would’ve stopped Ellie, she couldn’t help the weakness that exploded over her.

                Tomorrow or the day after, Saturday if she was lucky, Ellie would be dead. It had been nothing but fate that had brought them together again and somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that she would have more time with a woman who was more like a mother to her than her own blood.

                Years and moments didn’t stop for anyone and as she sat in the driver’s seat of her military issued black car, she allowed the tears of months, minutes and decades to fall.

Whoo hoo!

I have finished chapter four and have started on chapter five and the draft is starting to look like a manuscript which means at some point in time it may actually look like a book!

YAY!

And now a treat for me, and from me, to you.

Wednesday

It's been one of those weeks where I just assume that it is one day ahead of the day we are actually in. This means that these passing days are days for screw-ups and confusions with a dash of 'holy shit'.

I need a hobby that doesn't isolate me. However, I don't like meeting new people by myself. It makes me uncomfortable and puts me on edge and I only do it when I am in a situation in which I'm forced. I am not good at forcing myself to do much other than make sure that I get out of bed and into the shower before work.

Does this mean that I have no drive?

You know - I don't know. I guess that might answer that question if one wants to look deeply.

However, this mood, or rather these reflections, happen to me every time the seasons change. Though I like fall, when the night begins to come too quickly and there isn't enough sun to either warm or lift me, I become a touch maudlin. I begin to wonder whether I should reread Poe or Shelley. I dig myself deeper into my apartment and fantasize about being something or doing something that I probably never will. My fault is that I have become too attached to security. I crave it like a babe craves milk. Not really having it as a child I seek it out as an adult even if within the arms of security I'm bound to be my own destructor.

See, Maudlin.

On another note. I have started to overcome my Chapter 4 writer's block. For the past couple of years, after high school and the days that I like to call my "Golden Prolific Years", I write a story and it's good but it gets stalled at Chapter 4. That's about the same time as my confidence wavers and I begin to doubt whether 1- I can actually write well enough to get published 2 - whether anyone is interested in reading what I wrote and
3- can I actually finish this? Do I have enough faith in my characters and my ability to string sentences together to actually finish this?

I guess this time I have a little more faith than previously. So I continue with my "Zombie" story and mix in elements of horror and romance and hope that the final baked product is edible.

Mood : Indescribable
Music: In For the Kill - La Roux

Like a train wreck but worse

So for some reason I am addicted to this Mackenzie Phillips story. It's horrible and not something that should capture my attention but it's like a V.C Andrew's story in which the abused kid gets to finally turn the tables.

I believe her too or at least, I'm not willing to not believe her and make Mackenzie out to be a villain.

The way her family is reacting is disgusting. See here:


Ugh.

And on another note, I'm spending way too much money on books. I also have to go food shopping and for the love of all that is holy, I need to finish Chapter 4!

What Am I? 15?

First of all, I'm not 15 years old so tell me why I like Taylor Swift. I need to feel less insane than I already do. She had me sold with "Teardrops on My Guitar"

Gah.


I like country, but seriously TWEEN country. GAH.

September 15th...yee haw

Sept15th can't come fast enough.

First the new Dan Brown is coming out and while Brown is not exactly a Pulitzer worthy writer, his books are enough guilty pleasure for me to be excited. I have no idea what this book is about as the publisher has done a pretty good job of being as vague as all get out and just giving blurbs about the success of the writer and the series. I may or may not actually by this book in hardcover. We'll have to see how good the jacket sounds when I get my hands on a copy.








On another note, the video game WET is coming out and I have been waiting FOREVER for a video game that portrays a strong woman as a lead character who can kick ass and take names later. Lara Croft is the first video game heroine of that caliber but she was also drawn and depicted as a sex symbol. I want a girl who can shoot you in the head and shoot a glass of whisky as she is waiting for payment. First of all, this chick is hot but I wouldn't piss her off if I were you. From the Wiki page:

Gameplay

WET is an action game that combines shooting and swordplay with stylish acrobatics. The main character, Rubi, carries twin pistols (revolvers) and a sword, and can fire whilst jumping, sliding on her knees and running on walls. During these acrobatic actions, the game will enter slow motion, and she will automatically aim at a second enemy, allowing the player to shoot at two enemies at once. She can also combine her attacks, such as wall running off a person, or performing a sword uppercut while sliding. Racking up kills and collecting multiplier icons gains multipliers, which increase score and the rate at which Rubi regenerates health. Rubi can also regain health by finding bottles of whiskey; when activated, she takes a swig from the bottle, then throws the bottle into the air and shoots it.

In some sections of the game, Rubi's face will get covered in blood and she will go into a murderous rage. These sections are presented in noir style, with bold red, black and white visuals. Rubi's attacks become faster and stronger to fight against large amounts of enemies during these sections, and killing chains of enemies extends her psychotic fury. There are also motorway sections that feature shooting integrated with quick time events.

Also, Eliza Dushku is the voice of Rubi. Now, I'm not the world's biggest fan of Ms. Dushku's acting ability (I mean, pouting and yelling can only get you so far in my book) but I love her voice work.

So, two great notables coming out tomorrow - Make sure to check them out

State of Being....

I've decided to implement a new Blog Tag/Title called State of Being. Just a little update on my mood/emotions/feelings and other semi-therapeutic stuff that probably belongs on a LiveJournal (which I no longer use) or in a secret diary somewhere. But it's my site and I can do whatever the fuck I want to.

So.....to christen the new topic.

Sometimes I feel way to cranky for my own good. It's as if my body can no longer contain the sudden upswell of negative emotions and general pessimistic views that crowd my mind and body.

Is it because I didn't get enough sleep last night? Probably.

Is is because it's close to my 'woman's time'. Eh, maybe.

Is it because it's a shit day with dirty gray skies and cold rain? Yeah, I'd wager that could be the answer.

I find myself disliking anything that could be considered to be a bother. People that email that are normally pretty ok become quite the annoying idiot. Answers to questions that if they had just opened their eyes and looked, they would have found the answer. OR, the people that can do something themselves but don't want to because it may just be too beneath them.

Which in turn makes me want to scream and scratch and just in general not work with them.

GRRR.

This sort of ennui seems to consume me until something 'other' happens. A new book. Sunshine. A good review of a story. A great song. A LONG PERIOD OF STUPID PEOPLE LEAVING ME THE FUCK ALONE.

:D

Now, I feel a little better.






Mood: - Frustrated

Music - Venus vs Mars - Jay-z

Schoolhouse Rock on Mr. O

One more thing. Just read this off of Rooji's website...and seriously, if you don't like words that are designed to motivate, inspire, relate and touch you as a parent, older sister/brother, grandparent or even as a student.

You need to stop. reading. now. Also, you might want to get your time machine fired up and head back to the supreme age of fascism because you sure as hell don't belong here.

Sing a song of sixpence...a pocket full of...

Florence and the Machine - Dog Days are Over

Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You cant carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

And i never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh
Happiness hit her like a bullet in the head
Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your loving, your loving behind
You cant carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run


I can't embed the video for some reason but go and check her out.

On another note - I want to either write a video game storyline and/or do the music for a movie :)

Oh...and have my own graphic novel.

Ah....sweet dreams, they are in fact, made of these.

Pop Quiz Hotshot

I'm also proud to announce that I've finished Ch. 3 of my story. Let's see if I can actually finish this damn thing.

On another note - I've become a Scrabble freak. It's ok though. I'm an English Major. It's supposed to be this way.

Short update tonight because Brahma and I have been playing Scrabble watching music videos and generally trying to get the husband to not fall asleep without me. Again.

Anyhoo. Work tomorrow. That's better than being eaten by Cthulhu, right?

And on that note. Beyonce or Shakira???

Let me know.

Pray for my little toy gun

And let me be the first to announce that I finished chapter 2 in my 'zombie' story! I still chuckle when I say zombie story...lol.

Ok sorry. Anyway, things are progressing nicely in that sense. The chapter may have ended abruptly but those are things that can be fixed post-writing and therefore not something I need to worry about right now.

Huzzah!

And now to celebrate - here is a recent book review from me to you.




Truly a strangely beautiful tale.

I couldn't put the book down and read it in one day. I squee'd at the end of it.

Love, honor, betrayal, confusion, myth and passion are all themes in this book.

We follow Percy, who is an outsider in both worlds, and the Guard who is set upon this Earth to protect the innocent. Their paths intermingle and wind together and at the heart of this story is love and trusting one's own heart.

Percy is the beautiful ugly duc...more Truly a strangely beautiful tale.

I couldn't put the book down and read it in one day. I squee'd at the end of it.

Love, honor, betrayal, confusion, myth and passion are all themes in this book.

We follow Percy, who is an outsider in both worlds, and the Guard who is set upon this Earth to protect the innocent. Their paths intermingle and wind together and at the heart of this story is love and trusting one's own heart.

Percy is the beautiful ugly duckling and Alexi is the tortured brooding Gothic hero. Perfect opposites of each other and both see something in the other that completes them. Is it fate or can love transcend even that?

The author delightfully borrows from "Beauty and the Beast", Greek Myths and "The Little Mermaid" (you'll see what I mean when you meet a character who is excellent with disguise ala the Sea Witch) and weaves them all together with history, mystery and romance.

It's a must read

I can see that you're a bouncing ball

So, this will be quick as I have people coming over tonight.

I got the information from Baruch today which makes me very happy, now all I have to do is read it. Before I bother to apply though I have to take the GRE's and then get certified to teach.

I wish, and I know that this sort of beginning to a sentence always sounds flimsy and possibly naive, that I could be a full time writer. That I had the discpline to sit down and friggin' finish a chapter in one night. I can't, I know that, so let me amend that particular component to the wish and say that I wish I had the ability to finish at least a page a night.

Maybe it's the 'lazy genes' that I have, maybe it's just pure abject fear. Fear that I will accomplish something and face the consequences - i.e. being rejected, being bribed, lowering my standard and possibly having to sell my book as an e-book (which frankly grosses me out a little). Or maybe I'm just scared that I don't have it in me and I prolong the writing process so that I can hold on a little longer to a pipe dream.

Either way lies fear.

On another front - I'm writing this in my "office"! Pictures are forthcoming.

I had a post but ZING when the heartstrings of that idea

I had approximately two ideas in which to write about tonight and for some reason my brain shorted out and now I have no idea.

I was going to post my honeymoon pictures, but let's face it. I'm pretty lazy right now. I was going to talk about this amazing book that I just finished reading by this French author called "The Most Beautiful Book in the World". Go read it.

I will conclude this meager post with the thought that I should never be allowed to watch reality show competitions in which the victims - urm, the contestants have to sing, dance or act. I get choked up. I do. It's true - this cold cold heart gets warmed up and swells with pride for those that have the balls to get on up there...and somehow this only applies to people with real talent.

It's one of the reasons I don't watch award shows.

If you tell anyone I'll deny it.

Music: Mating Game - Bitter:Sweet
Mood : ugh

Old Men and Sweden...viva la vida

I have this weird thing where little old men that 1. wear little cabbie hats 2. bermuda type shorts 3. tall black socks and 4. walk hunched over, are, in my mind, the cutest thing in the world. Some people have puppies. Some have kittens, I have little old men . They look like tiny little boys as if they are somehow de-aging. Not only are they becoming smaller but they are becoming wrinkled, hunched over, crotchety and cheap old men. So adorable. I just want to pinch their cheeks.

I believe I'm one of like ten people in the world who think that. My husband thinks I'm insane (but really, what else is new?) and one of my co-workers just doesn't understand (she doesn't like old people).

Now Old People in general (not the capital O and the capital P) are very weird creatures. When you lump them into one giant category, you wonder to yourself, holy shit - that'll be me in a few decades and 'God, I hope I don't think it's fashionable to wear pantyhose and sandals'. Also, what's up with the whole talking to yourself thing? I hope that when I'm old enough to not remember if I'm talking out loud, I'm at least entertaining. I mean, I have a lot of respect for old people (and I wish America did) but I do have a limit and that is muttering to yourself about a fight that you got into thirty years before with someone who is most likely dead OR muttering to yourself about why the new young sales associate at Key Food gyped you on twenty cents when you know that liver is really 1.99 a pound and not 2.19.

However - Old People. Keep. on. Trucking.

Now, on to Sweden.

Oh Sweden, how I forgot how wonderful you are. Or rather, how amazing you are. You give us crazy Americans a plentitude of things that are great and which humble us.

Have you ever watched a man from Brooklyn who is an art major try to put together a table from Ikea? Watch as he grunts, swears, bleeds and and curses your great land. How you humble him so.

Have you ever seen a bunch of college kids drunk off their asses from Svedka (the cheaper, but just as delicious, alternative to Absolut) and orange juice? Knowing that the amount of acid in OJ is just begging their stomachs to halt parastalsis and head the other way?

Perhaps you've seen a group of people in their mid-twenties and up getting a little drunk off your Absolut? Oh, how you make our mouths water with the vast options of flavors. Mango, Pear, Peach, VANIL! But, seriously, if you could step over here a minute, yeah thanks, no, watch out for the Billy bookcase, ok. Now, just one question. Which jagoff decided it was a good idea to make a fucking pepper vodka? Seriously that shit is really only good for the young, the stupid and the chefs. Oh. Southern women. Bloody Mary's? Oh. *cough* ok. Well, see, I feel chagrined. That's gotta be close to humble, right?

Oh Sweden. You have lit up our lives here in dreary America. For that. I salute you. I have to. I just finished my absolut vanil and pineapple.

Mood: relaxed:

It's a man's world

There is something so incredibly sexy about the song "It's a Man's World" by Seal (a cover obviously) that though I am at work - this song is playing on Frequence 3 and I got a small shiver up my arm and this urge to sway.

If only Hubby danced!

Anyhoo - Hubby built me an office! It's made of Ikea Billy bookcases and I'm going to get a desk and rearrange it - it's 8x8 and I'm so super excited. I'll take pics and post them. I can't wait to actually use it. :D

Had a sort of heart-to-heart with my mother and while that was a bit uncomfortable (because I have trouble with discussing emotions) I was exceptionally proud of us for being able to discuss certain things. It also proved that certain pockets of my family carry more crazy crackers than others.

Tried to do some writing and succeeded. Oh and by succeed I mean that I wrote a paragraph - nothing to be excited about and sort of lame. I'm lame.

I want another vacation but a mini-break will suffice. I'm starting to feel a little restless here in NYC. I think I need another breath of someone else's air.

Martini's, Reading and Mary Ford

By the by, Les Paul passed away. He was amazing and he created a style that is hands down amazing. Without him, we might be stuck with banjos.

Anyway, I came home from work today sweating and glistening like a rabid pig and decided to make myself a drink - yes drink, just pretend that the word is italicized and you'll know what I mean. Instead I decided to shower. Now Hubby works later than I do so i got to enjoy my shower - and no, not like that. Just taking a luxurious shower and taking your own sweet time conditioning your hair, shaving your legs and lathering up is enough for me. And let me tell you how sweet it is. I smell great, feel great and am currently sitting here typing this in tacky shamrock shorts and a Blow Pop shirt.

After the shower I made a martini because it's been a while since I've had a decent one. I don't have any coconut rum so I couldn't make my signature Pineapple Upside Down Cake. What came out was essentially pineapple juice and vanilla vodka with a splash of banana rum. So, I'm cozy and feeling good and enjoying myself quite nicely in my quiet home.

I pick up my book that I've been reading, Luanne Rice's "Light of the Moon" - it's sort of a hokey read but it's essentially a quick beach read and though it's a bit predictable, it's a nice culmination of drama and romance. Sort of like Alice Hoffman without any of the darkness. Anyway, I find myself actually making facial expressions that match my inside emotions and I realize that I need to stop reading just so I don't end up freezing my face in a shocked expression.

And on that note...there's nothing going on here. Radio Charice is broadcasting busted weekend plans, a trip to the bar tonight and possible a tattoo within the next few weeks.

Keep tuning in.

Manic Mondays and Rainy Days

So, I was expressing earlier my discontent with the schedulization (yes, I made this word up. Deal with it) of my life and how I would be happier if I could just get out of this rut.

Well, Tuesday started with a slight hangover due to the de-schedulization of Monday. I picked my hubby up and we went to a bar where we had about three drinks and then cabbed it home.

Was there anything particularly exciting about this bar?
No. The bartender was actually sort of annoying and had that personality that relied on corny jokes, timing and the incessant need to hear the sound of his own voice.

Did I set out to go?
Again, no. It just sort of happened. I was starving and would have been content at my local neighborhood bar. I didn't need to drink but I did need to eat and since I'm no posh-upper west side kind of gal, all I know to eat on a Monday after work is bar/grill.

What this action did do was allow to me to break free from the constraints of Monday. That shackling, brutal beating of a Monday and allowed me to substitute that day for a Thursday night. Sans obliteration.

It felt good. And I did have enough vitamin water that night to enjoy the fact that Tuesday was just another groggy sort of morning.

Now, I might have done something slightly heroic in my opinion - for who dares to defy the mundane brain-washing tactics of Monday, the God of the work week - but I may have pissed off the weather Gods because the next day was unbearably hot, yesterday was heavy with the the threat of rain and today looks like the beginning of the Apocalypse. The first sign of a frog and I'm outta here.

Mood: Indifferent :

Music: Bell X1 (in my head)

a la Peanut Butter Sandwiches - or a Book Review

Forgot to mention. I had an author read my review of her story on Goodreads and she asked me to put it up on Amazon. I did her one better and put it up on BN.com as well.

The author is Patrice Sarath and it was for her sequel to "Gordath Wood" this book was entitled "Red Gold Bridge". Here's my review.



This book actually gets a 4.67 from me. It was nearly perfect, yes, I said that.

It had the right mix of intrigue, thrills (not the cheap kind), suspense and wonder. The second book also got the POV's right, weaving them all together almost seamlessly and allowing every character to develop yet go further with the plot culminating back to the beginning to Joe. Joe started this book off and he ended the book, much like Lynne started the last book off.

I was afraid I was goin...more This book actually gets a 4.67 from me. It was nearly perfect, yes, I said that.

It had the right mix of intrigue, thrills (not the cheap kind), suspense and wonder. The second book also got the POV's right, weaving them all together almost seamlessly and allowing every character to develop yet go further with the plot culminating back to the beginning to Joe. Joe started this book off and he ended the book, much like Lynne started the last book off.

I was afraid I was going to be left with the same feeling I had toward the romance of Aerin and Tor and the magic guy from "The Hero and The Crown" - but I wasn't. It was a good ending told realistically enough with Lynne, Joe and Crae and gave them enough of a good ending to believe anything else that followed.

Crae really grew on me in this book and I kept hoping for him to succeed and to be comfortable in his own skin as well as in his own lot. I didn't see him as an interloper between Joe and Lynne like the last book and I really felt he was coming into his own.

We learned more about Joe in this book. Between his own narration and the stories that his mother told, I got a better idea of just who Joe was and why he was so special.

Lynne took a bit of a backseat in this one and was more or less coming to terms with her own emotions and actions that occurred in the last book. Her choices have an effect on both men.

Kate Mossland is the object of a crazy man's affections and she grows up further in this book. She has an idea of what she wants to do and who she wants to be but it takes her a little while to get there. Her sacrifice is enormous and you can feel her loss, blunted only a little by the presence of Colar, and get a sense that maybe this sequel could lead to a third book.

The Importance of Being Idle

I am suffering from what I like to call "OMG I'm tired" syndrome.

This means that I'm physically tired and lifestyle tired; I need a nap and about a million bucks so that I can travel.

"Lifestyle tired? That sounds pathetic, alarming and a little scary. You just got married! How can you be lifestyle tired?!" you cry, concerned and confused.

I did just get married, I just came back from my honeymoon actually. Saint Martin is beautiful. I'm not tired of marriage or my husband. I'm tired of living in my apartment and being in NY and having to deal with waking up every morning to go to work.

It's not a reflection of my work in this case, either.

It's simply that I don't want to be a "slave to tomorrow's demands" as my husband so poignantly put it. I want to be able to sleep in, wake up when I want and then work. I want to have time to work on my novel, travel and hang out with friends. I want to create something with my own hands and spirit and be proud of it and still be able to get in at least ten hours of sleep. I want to be able to watch Adult Swim during the weekdays and not have to worry about waking up the next morning to catch a train.

Sigh.

I want to see the world. I want to live somewhere else other than New York (again). I want to eat different foods prepared in the region/countries they originated in. I want to read by the beach or at a cafe in an European city.

This is most likely just a case of wanderlust and idealism brought on by excessive sun and sand and Coors lights. I just have to adjust my wheels back on the rails lest I shall fall off and achieve something that could make or break me.

I like my apartment, I love love love my husband and I'm at peace with my job right now.

I think I just need another vacation with my husband.

You bring reason to my life...

Ever have one of those days where at 9:45 in the morning you feel the urge to have a nice cold stiff drink?

Vodak martinis, a couple of fingers of bourbon and maybe a chaser of Patron. Yeah. That was my mood this morning.

Now, well now I can just have a beer and call it a day.

Probably will not getting any writing today and most likely will do very little video game playing and I don't know what I'll eat for dinner because frankly, I'm not cooking.

27 more minutes until the possibility of a nice cold one becomes a reality. Sad really what people turn to when they are stressed. I suppose it's better than drugs, or exercise.

Random

You know what's really weird, and something I was just thinking about as I was looking at my spreadsheet?

I love fonts.

I do. Maybe it started when I began fiddling around with Photoshop in my LJ days (icons, wallpaper) and striving to find the perfect font to match the mood and words on the art.

Maybe it started back in the days of DOS when fonts were pretty much times, arial or some sort of serif.

Or, maybe it started on my friend's Gateway computer back in the mid nineties.

Yeah, I think that's it. I remember using hot pink colors and using CURLZ to do a report.

I quickly realized that CURLZ and hot pink was going to do nothing for my grade, especially if my teacher couldn't read it. However, it was still fun to make a sign with that font.

I don't remember what the sign said nor do I remember the purpose of the sign but I do remember the magic of the font.

It stems from choice. The freedom to pick whatever style of words that will help convey your message. Right now I wish that I was writing in Franklin Gothic Book (Regular) font size 8. Or Calibri, size 8. Hell, I'd settle for Trajanus Bricks.

I guess it boils down to expression and freedom of choice. I was never a rebel with fashion - in fact my sense of style was always in my head and since I couldn't afford things in my head, I wore too baggy shirts and jeans that didn't fit and i was tiny. It wasn't attractive. I never vandalized or voted for a republican.

I liked to read and listen to different music but really I liked words. What better way to express yourself than with hot pink CURLZ?

MJ

This may seem like the obligatory post on Michael Jackson that everyone and their mother is posting but I don't care. When my husband called me last night, waking me from a much needed hungover induced nap, and told me he was coming home late oh, and Michael Jackson is dead, I thought my phone connection was being weird.

I realized after he said it the second time that it was the truth and that sometimes truth can feel like a liquid lead weight that settles first in your throat before slipping down into your gut.

So, I turned on the computer and the news and the media didn't fail me.

I loved Michael Jackson as a kid. I learned to dance and appreciate pop music by listening and watching Michael Jackson do his thing. As a kid, I didn't realize what he was doing was influential, I merely took advantage of the fact that his awesomeness made me shimmy my little butt and made me want to run away in horror when the Thriller video came on.

Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, Kenny Loggins and probably a few others I can't remember (or choose not to) were a staple of my audio diet from ages 1-5. Michael, Janet and Rod carried through in my own pantheon of music tastes and staples.

My favorite Michael Jackson song is "Smooth Criminal". The song itself doesn't really make a whole lot of sense because who knows if Annie is really okay and why would you assume she was if there were bloodstains on her carpet? It boggles the mind. But! The beat was amazing, the lyrics were catchy and I spent hours - on the floor - practicing the Michael Jackson lean.

I still can't do the moonwalk but I can still lift my leg up and grab my crotch. I can't spin as fast as I used to but I can still stomp my heel.

Michael Jackson, despite his personal demons and eccentricities was still an amazing performer, artist and innovator of music.

There will never be another like him. He was an Elvis for my generation.

Recently at my wedding, I played two MJ songs and when Billie Jean came on a friend of mine danced the whole entire song MJ style (he was amazing). That's what Michael Jackson does to our generation. His music finds a way into our lives and roots itself in to our pop music psychology.

So, enough with my personal experiences with Michael Jackson music and just let me get to the meat here.

Thank you Michael and I hope you finally find some peace. You will be remembered and played at many a wedding :)

Stuck on Repeat

This will be quick. I would just like to announce that I have finally settled down to write a new manuscript. This one is about zombies.

Yeah. I know. Trust me, it's not what you think. It straddles the line between horror and romance. I know - weird.

sigh.

Trust me. I think it'll be good.

Random Book Review

And here's a random book review to tide you over til next we meet.



At first you think to yourself....she's a hitman. How can I possibly enjoy a book about a woman who's career is very bad? How can I sympathize with her? How can I possibly care about anything she does?

You do.

You get past.

You move on.

You fall in love with Nadia Stafford's immense sense of right and wrong, her internal struggle with what she does and what she used to be.

It's like a less complicated Le Femme Nikita (the original movie or the tv show, not that horrible Fonda movie) however, Nadia has made this choice - it hasn't been thrust upon her.

You identify with Nadia on a level that you didn't think you can as a law abiding citizen. She's a few steps away from being a vigilante, a few steps above cold-blooded killer. She's a woman and she has problems.

She also has Jack, her mentor.

The relationship between the two of them leaves you wanting them to get it on. He is a man of short sentences and few words. He works with gestures. A man of action. Nadia leans on him like no other and their connection keeps her sane.

I'll let you read the book to find out what happens

Insert something catchy here.

So, I don't really have anything particular to say. This is more of a note to let anyone who ever stumbles upon this godforsaken piece of internet rambling that I am in fact alive, doing fairly well and am breathing the same air as most of you (except for thos in China and LA and for that, I must say, I'm grateful).

I suppose the one thing that I would like to get off my chest is the fact that I have been working hard on a manuscript for many years now and I had successfully started to rewrite it April of last year. I got up to Chapter 14 and then got married. I suppose what I'm trying to say is, I had a huge mental block for many months whilst trying to plan those nuptials and after the marriage I realized that I had been going about the manuscript the wrong way.

I had started the story idea in high school. Finished it, hated it, started again in 2007 and 2008. It's 2009 and I can't live in the past.

The story is a decent one but I think I'm really in love with the characters and if that is the case then a new plot, a new background for the main and a brand new eye is called for.

I also have another story I've been thinking about. A zombie story. Yeah, I know. It's being done as we speak. I can't guarantee that it is going to be completely original but I will be telling it, so it will be original enough. It's also going to be slightly romantic...because that is my favorite subplot and I think that love plays a very big part in people's everyday lives. Usually it's the absence of or the dwindling of...and that's reality but you can't hate something without loving and respecting it once.

Speaking of. If you want to read a book that is very close to reality though it resides in the realm of fantasy, you should pick up Alisa Sheckley's Abra Barrow series. The first book is "The Better to Hold You". Apparently Ms. SHeckley has been writing under Alisa Kwitney and she has done a few Sandman comics for Neil Gaiman..which raised her in my esteem to begin with and one of the major reasons I picked up the first book.

Her writing is fluid, engaging and real. There is no tenderfoot reactions to cheating, sex or the not knowing of relationships. The book is about a woman, Dr. Abra Barrow, who is infected with lyncanthropy after her cheating husband gives it to her. She doesn't realize she's infected until the former vegetarian begins to crave meat, her senses are more acute and she begins to undergo some changes. Her marriage is crumbling so she moves upstate with her writer husband and finds out things about the town, her husband but most of all about herself that allow her to break the bondage of her marriage and some of her hangups. In the process she creates a relationship with a man who is equal and her complement. Unfortunately, once bitten...twice shy. She doesn't realize his worth until she begins to see her own.

The end of this book is a satisfying one and leaves room for a sequel, which I'm currently reading called "Moonburn" and all in all...it's a good read. I reccomend.

And on that note......

I backed my car into a cop car the other day

So... my bachelorette party is tonight and I'm only slightly nervous.

I also miss my fiance who is currently in Montreal celebrating his bachelor party.

looking for jude

Ah, Mic Christopher. I wish you were still alive (title of post is a title of his song)


Mood: Worried:

Music: The loneliest man in town- Mic Christopher

THe life of an unpublished..and slighlty drunk author

so....I want to be published. Join the millions of others, you say. Well, I don't want to be one of the millions. I know that I'm better than at least 99% of those fuckers (at this point, it may be the alcohol talking) so why the hell am I so frakkin scared to go out there and sell my skin, bones and soul?

Well, maybe it's because I have a wedding coming up, maybe it's because I don't do well with criticism, maybe it's because I have a fear of failure---whatever the reason is, I haven't covered it in the therapy, so therefore I'm screwed.

I write Urban Fantasy/Romance with a slight dash of mystery. It's PNR or Harlequin with an actual frakkin' plot. Think Linda Lael Miller meets Patricia Briggs meets Marisa de los Santos. If you've read anything by any of these woman, you know that that it's bound to be good. If not, what the hell are you reading this blog entry for - get started on your reading lists! :)

So, anyway - point of the story is, I keep writing, there's no one to read it. I'm becoming like Jonathan Swift (????) and his misanthropic ideas. My writing is going to end up in a desk, folder, harddrive that noone will be able to access. I will become a writer that only my greatgrandchildren (If I'm LUcky) will read.

I don't want to be famous, I just want people to read my shit/stuff. I uploaded at urbis.com (my username is CJ7) and I'm nervous. I'm more nervous that noone will actually read the prologue of THE KELLERS than someone will hate it.

Isn't that sad?

mood: drunk -

Music: Not about Love - Fiona Apple

Driving Sideways - Jess Riley

I got this book out from the library because I had been circling around it like a bookworm vulture (which, while that may conjure up some very weird images, if you know me, it makes sense)

This is a really good book about living your life and learning to be your own person. It's a story about Leigh Fielding who has PKD and has just had a kidney transplant, a miracle unto itself, she then decides to take a road trip so that she can see her mother,meet up with her best friend and essentially be free of her overprotective brother and her own limitations.

She gets "hostage-ed" into taking a 17 year old hitchiker named Denise with her to California and coincidentally, Denise is the name of her supposed Guardian Angel. Denise is both mysterious and bubbly and a little bit of a whacko.

With Denise, Leigh begins to express her spontaneous side and her 'did I just do that" side.

They pick up Leigh's friend Jillian who is with a shitty boyfriend and whom Leigh hates.

The road trip from Jillian's place in Colorado is another journey in which Leigh learns about friendship, decisions and what it is like to truly be your own person. She also sees just how much co-dependence can shape a person's life and psyche.

By the end, you are so enamored with Leigh and also worried about her increasing flu-like symptoms and fear that every time she goes to the bathroom, she'll find blood that by the time you get to the critical point in the story....you are right there with her.

All in all, it's a great story. It's at turns modernly philosophical, hysterical, sad and relative.

Recommended.


Favorite line: " My Rip VanGine wakes up and rubs her eyes"

Trust in me context its hilarious.

Is it possible to have a massive crush on a fictional character- yes.

I love House MD. There's something about his irascibility, his curmudgeonly ways, his abrasive charm that would ordinarily make me want to smack him but when you put it in the package of one, Hugh Laurie, I can't help but want to cuddle him. His wife (Laurie's) is one lucky woman. I would be role playing all the time!

An excerpt from a Playboy article describing House's character:

With shades of Sherlock Holmes by way of Hawkeye Pierce on a crabby day, House isn’t out to heal the world or make patients happy. He doesn’t have a soft spot for kids and old ladies, and he would rather watch monster-truck jams than read a stupid CT scan. No matter how antisocial he is, no matter how bitter (his favorite diagnosis is “The patient is lying”), House inevitably saves the day—even when it kills him to.


Now, I also love Hawkeye Pierce. Unfortunately this love is also slightly incestous and my grandfather is Alan Alda's cousin, so ewwwwwww...but his fictional character from the TV SHOW. Ah, hell yeah.

House MD. If I had a mysterious disease, I would want you to treat me. Frankly, I would want you to treat me regardless of a mysterious disease.

The Temptation of the Night Jasmine

Temptation of the Night Jasmine- Lauren Willig

Synopsis:

After 12 years in India, Robert, Duke of Dovedale, returns to his estates in England with a mission in mind-- to infiltrate the infamous Hellfire club to unmask the man who murdered his mentor at the Battle of Assaye. Intent on revenge, Robert never anticipates that an even more difficult challenge awaits him, in the person of one Lady Charlotte Lansdowne.

Throughout her secluded youth, Robert was Lady Charlotte’s favorite knight in shining armor, the focus of all her adolescent daydreams. The intervening years have only served to render him more dashing. But, unbeknownst to Charlotte, Robert has an ulterior motive of his own for returning to England, a motive that has nothing to do with taking up the ducal mantle. As Charlotte returns to London to take up her post as Maid of Honor to Queen Charlotte, echoes from Robert’s past endanger not only their relationship but the very throne itself.

Review:

This fifth installment of the Pink Carnation series is a good book in the series but not as good as the Crimson Rose or any of the others before it. I liked the banter between Charlotte and Robert (the main characters of the Historical Fiction portion of the story) and I loved the character development of said characters and it was very nice to have Hen and Miles join the book but while Jasmine had the mystery, the history and the drama what it lacked was some actual romantic scenes. At times it felt like I was reading a Gothic Romance (which is funny because Charlotte was reading Evelina in the beginning of the book) without as much innuendo.

I have to say, this book felt truer to the Scarlet Pimpernel story than the others and again, I wholeheartedly loved Charlotte and Robert and the ending was completely satisfying.

Now, onto the modern Chick-Lit portion.

As usual, the historical fiction aspect of the books does take over and make for a better, fulfilling reading experience the story of Colin & Eloise. I think that's because there's only about five or six chapters dedicated to them and they are spread out. It's hard to actually get too involved because of that, however, I like their characters and I do like them together. In fact, of all the couples I've come across in this series, Colin & Eloise remind me the most of Robert & Charlotte.

However, there was a lack of romantic scenes (minus the beginning chapter) and while I loved the movie-watching scene, I was hoping for a descriptive paragraph on kissing and/or fondling. I mean, I waited how long for Eloise and Colin? I couldn't get just a small smidgen of toe-curling description?

I'm hoping that Ms. Willig delivers more of the description in the next book and I certainly can't wait for the next installment.

Book Review- Kitchen Confidential- Anthony Bourdain

I will be the first to admit that I have a slight crush on Anthony Bourdain. I don't want to sleep with him but I would love to hang out with him. This book was full of interesting and funny stories, life lessons and passion. You can tell Anthony Bourdain loves his life and it translates on the page.

I only give it a four star rating because though the reader was fully warned at the beginning of the book, I wasn't prepared entirely for all of the Kitchen Jargon and constant use of that vernac...more I will be the first to admit that I have a slight crush on Anthony Bourdain. I don't want to sleep with him but I would love to hang out with him. This book was full of interesting and funny stories, life lessons and passion. You can tell Anthony Bourdain loves his life and it translates on the page.

I only give it a four star rating because though the reader was fully warned at the beginning of the book, I wasn't prepared entirely for all of the Kitchen Jargon and constant use of that vernacular.

However, all in all, it makes me see the restaurant world a bit differently and I thank this book for opening my eyes.

I know never to piss of a waiter or a chef, I have always said please and thank you when ordering and I'm right to do so, NEVER eat Fish on Monday, always check out the bathrooms and don't be afraid of the bread.

All in all, this book is a celebration of the life of a chef, a line cook, a sous chef, a porter, a grillman and all those that inhabit the kitchen to bring you good food because cooking is in their veins.

Thanks to all those slaving, sweating, swearing, bleeding and generally busting their asses in the kitchen.

I give you an opinion, cause I just found one

Happy New Year to everyone!

And now that's out of the way...


I never read 3 books at a time. I usually can't. I usually read, maybe, two non-fiction books at once and that's usually because they relate in some way. I'm a big Celtic history fan, ancient Celtic history with the specific interest in Ireland. I love the mythology, the religion, the supposition about said mythology and religion, I love the stories, the spread of the culture (from the near East to eventually Ireland) over the centuries, and I love the impression that they left on the world. Most of all, I love learning about it. It's amazing.

So with that said, I figured I'd venture out of Ireland for a bit and finally sit down and read the Welsh collection of ancient stories, the Mabinogion, that have been around for a very long time but were finally put on paper sometime between the 12-14th centuries (my memory escapes me and I'm not looking right now) and is very very very very heavy on the Christian religion. Makes sense because the first time these stories were written down were by Christian monks who were seeking to take out some of the 'pagan' elements out of the story and make it more a tale of Christian morality.

Then, because I know a lot of the stories in the Mabinogion, I decided to try and start the History of Stupidity. I couldn't get into it.

Now, I'm reading Kitchen Confidential- Anthony Bourdain, right now. I have this weird sort of crush on him and not in a sexual way. I would love to get drinks and listen to him tell stories. I'd love to eat his food and hell, I'd even travel with him. He can be crusty, curmudgeonly, selfish, a complete dick but at the same time, funny, sentimental, caring, and fair. My kind of guy.

But I never read three books at once. So I'm taking History of Stupidity of the list and shelving the Mabinogion for now.

Viva Bourdain.

Mood: - Restless

Music: Lullaby- Starsailor