For Shame

I try really really really hard not to book bash, or if I do complain, I don't want to name names.  I like reading the best comebacks and sometimes the set downs.

There was an article with authors putting down other authors.

Being a writer and being a reader, and most importantly being both, means that you're going to have opinions.  Your opinions may or may not agree with the majority.  You may not even have an opinion where a minority shares it.

I used to be really okay with complaining about Twilight, which I have read, and Jane Austen, who, up until two years ago, I hadn't read.

I try not to bash books I haven't read.  Or authors.  I've said a few things about Fifty Shades of Grey and Outlander on Facebook.  Mostly complaining because they're getting optioned for the big and little screens respectively, and yet, nobody wants to pick up the Cynsters.  The only things I know about Fifty Shades of Grey  are 1) that it's Twilight fanfic and 2) everybody says it's an awful, abusive relationship.  The only things I know about Outlander are 1) that it's not technically a romance, though any romance reader worth her sighs has read it ('cept me) and 2) the woman is married in her time, but marries someone else in her time warp.

I've never read either book.  I don't have much interest in doing so.  I don't like abusive relationships, and I don't like adultery, even though it technically isn't or whatever.  I don't know.  I never really cared for time travel, because I was always left wondering how it would end and I'm too chicken to go through it and find out. 

I've read some BDSM erotica and erotic romance.  I didn't care for it.  There was one historical erotic romance I liked, and that was probably because it was more about the romance than the sex.  I loved the heroine, and the hero was good for her.  It was a good story.

I read one at the end of last year that annoyed me.  It was contemporary erotic romance, the explanation of the dom/sub relationship was there, lots and lots of spanking.  Anyway.  I hated the hero.  I didn't like the heroine for putting up with him.  The worst part of all of that it seemed everybody else loved it on Goodreads.  I really had a tough time putting my thoughts into words.  Mostly, it was a lot of frustrated grumbles.  And it ended in the wrong place for me.

As a reader, I don't think I have to read a book just because everyone else has.  I certainly don't have to like it.

As a writer, I have to wonder.  I don't want to not read the best-sellers because, as a writer, shouldn't I see what's selling and what's not?

I don't know, really.  I think, if it's a genre I actually want to write, yes, by all means.  If it's not, it's not.

I've never read Nicholas Sparks--but then I don't want to write mainstream fiction, and personally it never really interested me. 

I'm an immature reader.  I like plots and happy endings.  I've liked a few of the literary novels I've read, but really, give me a plot.

I bought the first four books of Song and Ice of Fire at the end of 2011.  2012 and 2013 passed...still haven't read them.  I will, though.  Someday.  Maybe when all of the books are out. O.o

That's the beautiful thing about waiting to read a series.  If you wait long enough, you skip the angst over waiting for the next book.  And I never mainline series anyway.  I'm not angsty because I always have more books to read.

As far as specifically fantasy and Regency romance goes.  Yes, yes, yes, by all means, read it, Jadi.  If it's just some popular book up there in the bibliosphere, if you don't want to read it, don't.  But if you do want to read it, do.

Simple as that.  Don't shame the ones you don't like, and certainly not the authors.  Long after I'm dead, and I lived my dream of being an author, I don't want to be remembered for anything ugly I wrote about somebody else.

However, there is one thing I'll say about authors insulting each other:

Even classics were just normal books once, and not everyone has to like them.

And Suddenly...

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

The Valentine's Day hype is gone.  I'm okay.  It's all over.

On a whim, my sister (who's living back with us) and I went to a bar Friday night.

That was a waste of a Friday night, I might add.

::cue British accent::

I could've been in bed with a hot cuppa and either a book or some re-runs of Sherlock.

::end British accent:: 

As it was, while my sister was flirting with the guy she'd planned to meet (thanks for making me the third wheel, sis), I people watched and downloaded a book on my Nook app on my phone and started reading.  It was a nice bar, though.  I'd go again.  Just not with my sister.  She got sloppy drunk, and I almost left her there.  I was aggravated about being made the third wheel.  Her scumbag could've brought her home--if he didn't murder her in a back alley first.  Anyway, I DID bring her home.  However, when I got home, I couldn't get her up.

So, I left her in my car, went inside, showered, and went to bed.

For future reference:  NEVER ask me to be your designated driver if you are a stupid drunk.  Still, lesson learned.

And now the next heavily commercialized holiday to prepare for is Easter!  Easter.  Easter.  Easter.  My favorite holiday.  Why?

Because I don't complain about it.  I always have or try to have something to write.

Easter.  Easter.  Easter.

Hollow chocolate bunnies.
Chocolate.  The GOOD chocolate.
Jesus stuff.
Sweet stuff.
Writing stuff.
I want to go to Crete one year for Easter.

I might actually get my godkids something.  I don't have to, and I may not, but it's not looked at askance in the wider family to give gifts on Easter, especially where godkids are concerned.

Easter.  Easter.  Easter.

BEE. ESS.

"Cynics are simply thwarted romantics.”
― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

I actually have a Friday night off. You have to understand something here, since the new manager's been there, I've had (maybe) 3 Friday nights off--and one of those was because of my little car accident. Four if I'm being generous. But I think it's only three.

But I worked this morning. It's odd having to work in the morning and not have to go to school later on. It feels weird, because I usually only work nights when it's not a school day.

"Happy Valentine's Day" was a common goodbye today. Someone asked if I had plans for tonight. I don't, besides lying in bed with a book, and I answered so.

"What are you going to read?"

This is so bad. "I don't know. I have like nine books I have bookmarks in."

"Oh. Are you a reader?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's good. It'll keep you out of mischief."

I gave my agreement.

"I'm a reader too."

::It's not, 'you like to read'? I loved that. I am a reader--one who reads. It's a defining label. It's a lot of me. End digression.::

It was brightening.

There was another person who spent $32 on his girlfriend (I didn't see a ring and he never mentioned 'wife'). Chocolates, heart centerpiece, teddy bear, card... He had a good attitude at first, and then there was a, 'she better appreciate this,' and apparently he'd done something else for her. I almost wanted to say that I hoped she did appreciate it all, but I'm a good little cashier and kept my mouth shut. I almost wanted to remark as much to the lady behind him (could've been the reader lady), but then I didn't want to sound bitter or anything, and it kind of hurt, a kind of stabbing pain where my heart should be.

Later, a man was buying a big box of chocolates for his wife, and a granddaughter. He asked if I had gotten anything.

"No."

"Not yet?"

"No, I don't have one."

"No husband or boyfriend?"

"No.  Have a nice day."

Anyway...

It really pisses me off when people say that singles should just wait for the right one and all that. Get your heart in the right place. Get your head in the right place.

Excuse me, most of the time, I am really okay with being single. I'm a smart woman, and at a more intellectual level I know realistically I'll never meet anyone.  Between work and school and books and writing, I neither have time nor the energy.  Plus, men need to be needed, and I have this thing where I hate needing people.  And then there is, behind every great man is a good woman.  It seems behind every great woman, there often is no man, or if there is, he ain't happy.

And I do so want to be great.  I want to be the next Lloyd Alexander or Stephanie Laurens.

I'm open with it here but it's not like everyone everywhere knows I've never been on a date.  It's not something I broadcast in my real life. And I try not to bemoan the fact. I try.

However, no matter how great I want to be, that doesn't stop the loneliness. That doesn't make me not wonder what the hell is wrong with me.  You can tell me all day how I should think about it, but as often as I tell my heart that it doesn't matter, my heart doesn't listen.  I don't know about you, but my head and my heart are two completely different entities, with minds of their own.

On that note, I always hate when people hate on the virgin heroine in romance books.  If the opportunity never came, neither did she.  O.o

Like I said, usually it doesn't bother me.  However, seeing all these guys come up in Fred's buying stuff for the ladies in their lives, well damn, if I don't feel left out.

So, it's society's fault.  But I won't go there.  My fellow single people have probably heard enough advice and maxims about their singularity.  I have.  I don't want advice.  This is a childish thing--I want to complain and talk about my feelings.

Because it does hurt.
It is lonely.
It sucks sometimes.
I haven't the slightest idea of what being in love feels like.  I have ideas, because I read a lot, not just romance books, and I've had crushes on real people before, but for me personally, I don't know how I'd be.  And this is something I don't like using my imagination all the time.  Sometimes I really want to experience things for myself.

You have to understand something about me:  I hate not knowing things.

I think the best BS I can give to my fellow frustrated singles is this: 

1 - You're not alone.

2 - Tomorrow, you'll wake up, and thank God you woke up on February 15, and that THE CANDY IS HALF OFF!!!

Some Thoughts about Real Life and Romantic Novels

Right on time for Valentine's Day (kind of), I find myself wondering how the romantic relationships the others around me have, and the not-so-romantic variety.

Again, I re-iterate:  I've never been so much as asked out.  My last crush on a real person in my real life was when I was fifteen.  The only thing I know about relationships is by watching those around me and by reading books.

I would like to think that, someday, maybe, perhaps, if a miracle takes place, there might just be someone out there for me that would actually love me with the fierce passion of that of Devil Cynster for Honoria Anstruther-Wetherby or any Laurens' hero for his heroine.  More likely, a smaller miracle, but a miracle nonetheless, would be someone who could tolerate me enough to marry me.

I see a lot of relationships that are less than ideal.  Married couples where one spouse ruins it for the other, and you wonder why they stay.  I see relationships where the passion has long faded.

I would like to think you have to take the good with the bad, and that nobody's perfect.  At the same time, how much is too much?

Personally, if a man ever laid a hand on me, God forgive me, I'd probably kill him.  But then, abusers are attracted to certain personalities, and "I don't take crap from anyone" rolls off me in waves, I'm sure.  But then again, I don't know.  It's not a situation I've ever dealt with.  I also personally think a woman should be allowed to kill her abusive husband.  It's legal to kill in self-defense isn't it?  Remind me to check my criminal justice textbooks.  But that's just me.

What about the irresponsible partner?  The cheater?  My speculation is that if you're not married to the person, why on earth stay?  In a marriage, fine, there's probably some kids and a lot of years to just throw it away.  It's probably too much trouble to throw it away.  I've heard people say they'd rather put up with some one's crap than be alone.  If you're unhappy, why stay?  If it's bad for you, why stay?

I don't believe life is about being happy.  A full life, yes, but not a happy one.  Full of change, happiness, sadness, crap, tough times, et cetera.

But I do not think we were put here to be happy all the time.  Pain is okay.  Life is pain.  Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.

You are promised pain and trials and tribulations from day one.  However, however, HOWEVER, I don't think you have to seek them out.  It's one thing to work hard to obtain a goal, it's one thing to stick by your family in tough times.

So perhaps it all does boil down to love, and in the case of marriages, that I do.  People are weird.  Relationships are weird.  Romance books are weird.

So, where does this leave me and my views about relationships?  In the books, the heroines have given up on marriage.  For whatever reason, they've decided marriage wasn't for them.  It takes the Right Guy to change her mind, to win her affections, to claim her heart.

Is that what I'm supposed to be waiting for?  Or to just wait until some passably suitable guy comes along?   Actually, there was this one time I was at work.  I'd just rung up this customer.  As he was leaving, he asked if I had a boyfriend or a husband.

This guy looked old enough to be my dad, okay?  I thought he was asking, trying to see just how young young people were settling down.

I smiled and said, "No, I'm single."

"Can I have your number?"

"You look a little old for me."

He said it was okay, and he left.  Wait, Jadi, guys don't think like that.  He was asking if you were available.  I was so proud of myself, though.  It was the first time a member of the male of the species had ever blatantly asked me for my number, and I'd said no.  I'm clearly not the desperate female I think I am.

Lacey comes up, and I tell her the story and the great news.  A look of absolute horror crosses her face.

"You said that?!"

Me:  "Was that bad?"

Lacey:  "Yes!  You don't say stuff like that!"

Me:  "Well, what was I supposed to say?"

And so it went.

As always, to each her own.  I think if I keep to that, I will quit trying to figure people out...but it's so much fun to try!  Why do we do the things we do?  Because we're people.  Because we're not perfect.

Because we probably have no idea what we're doing anyway.  Or I don't anyway.  Obviously.

January in Review

Books Read:  10
Books on the Currently Reading Shelf on Goodreads:  9
Days I Wrote Productively:  19 days
Approximate Word Count:  ~17,425 trackable, whether the word count was on my calendar, or I just put the blogposts in Word and word-counted those there.

Also, I began keeping track of how many books and how much money I spend in a calendar year as a NYR.  That, however, I will share at the end of the year, if I remember to post it.  And if I can bring myself to post what THOSE numbers will be.

Book List:

• The Philadelphia Adventure by Lloyd Alexander, children's novel, 5 stars 
• The Xanadu Adventure by Lloyd Alexander, children's novel, 5 stars
• I finished the Vesper Holly books.  ::Tear::

• Dresden Files:  Ghoul Goblin by Jim Butcher, graphic novel, fantasy, 4 stars
• My first graphic novel.  In hindsight, I remember loving it.  Um, why'd I drop a star?  Wasn't my usual medium or something?

• "The Blackwood" by Wayne Thomas Batson, children's short story, 5 stars
• See HERE...if you're too lazy to click, it's awesome.

• Taste of Darkness by Maria V. Snyder, fantasy novel, 4 stars
• End of the series.  Good, I was ready for it to be over.  More Study books now, please!

• A Tale of Two Dragons by G. A. Aiken, high fantasy/smut romance/novella, 4 stars
• Don't judge me.  Romance AND dragons?  Sign me up!

• Wanted:  Wife by Gwen Jones, contemporary romance, 3 stars
• Eh, reminds me why I stick to historical.

• A Matter of Class by Mary Balogh, historical/regency romance, 4 stars
• The most brilliant or the most insane romance I've ever had the experience of reading.

• The Bride Thief by Jacquie D'Alessandro, historical/regency romance, 4 stars
• My first full-length for this author, although I was first exposed to her in It Happened One Season.  CUTE!

• Love and Other Scandals by Caroline Linden, historical romance, 3 stars
• Okay, but reminds me why I hardly ever branch out of my brand name romance authors.

Over all, I must love children's stories.

Story Stuff

I use Grammarly's plagiarism checker because I want to be told how crappy my writing actually is!

I don’t like doing things like plotting/outlining my stories. For some strange reason, I don’t count that as “productive” writing and don’t count it for my day’s K, so I don’t want to spend the time doing it.

Because I’m a scratch and restart wannabe writer, when I switched from a first-person POV to a third-person in that last day’s K, it didn’t bother me. I’m restarting the story anyway. This is going for the new draft. Cough, cough, not really. It’s helping me get the story straight, though, and it counts.

The next day, Monday, between working and going to night class, I didn’t make time for writing. I can’t work on Tuesdays because of the way my class runs, and my class was cancelled, so I had all day to do something productive. I didn’t feel like working on that 12-page paper that’s due February 4th that I haven’t even started on, so I did a Story Stuff for my WiP. Yes, I really do call it that. A Story Stuff is exactly what it sounds like: title, characters, and plot all in one Word doc or in a notebook if I feel like writing it by hand.

After I got down my title, I started with listing my characters: my protagonists, my antagonists, and my supporting cast. I went further to divide them up into the good side, and the evil side, and giving a description of everybody, just to get them straight. It’s as anal-retentive as it sounds. Then I went back to the top again with my protags and antags, and put their wants. I put something like a trope for them down. After that, I added which character would most likely oppose whom under the respective name.

Okay, now time to go to the plot. But the plot is already there, with all of the character information. This little point taught, or perhaps reminded me, of some writing tidbits I had forgotten.

1 – Stories are about people and how they relate to each other. No duh, Sherlock. It’s so obvious it’s fascinating.

2 – Before I entered the ivory towers of academia that is college, every time I got writer’s block, I would go back and re-read writing rules. There was this one-page article that I loved. It had three blocks in it for a beginning, middle, and end. I’d do a Story Stuff with it, and then continue on or restart. It got me writing, and that’s what mattered. Somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten that this method works.

3 – It doesn’t matter that all the writing articles all say the same thing, or one author says one thing, and another author says the complete opposite. Read it anyway. Keep it in mind. Always. Good guidelines at 13 are still that at 21. You don’t stop re-reading your favorite book just because you’ve memorized it, do you? Of course not.

I was on the fence about continuing on, but I did a synopsis for good measure. It’s important to write that stuff down. Most importantly, afterwards, I got my day’s K, with a better vision of what I was doing than what I had previously.

May the words rise up to meet you. And me. God and the four patron saints of writing help us all.

Yada Yada, Blah Blah

I've talked about my pet peeves before, especially of my other readers.

So, um, apparently, female and non-white writers are underrated?

You mean, you've actually noticed that sort of thing?  

Great Light, am I so much an asshole that I never did?  My authors tend to be mostly white, I guess, male and female, but I think that has more to do with my reading tastes.  Fantasy is stereotypically for white nerds (not the law, just the stereotype) and you don't hear about black women writing English Regency romance (or I never have, anyway).

My favorite book quote:
“Fools have a habit of believing that everything written by a famous author is admirable. For my part I read only to please myself and like only what suits my taste.”
― Voltaire, Candide

In more modern terms:  I'll read what I want to read, and if you don't like it, you can go hang yourself.

I hate the Internet sometimes.  I see some of the most ridiculous stuff on it sometimes.  And the most fascinating.  And a lot of it leaves me thinking, "DO YOU PEOPLE REALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO PROVE?"

There's some kind of pledge to only read women writers for 2014.

I hate to break this to you, but men and women write differently...and my favorite author is male.  I would not dare think to skip Stephen R. Lawhead's annual release just to say, "All the books I read in 2014 were by women."  This will be the last book in the series.  Let's say, "Buying and starting this book the day it comes out."

Like the baby vulture resisting to be pushed out the nest in that old cartoon, to a lot of the Internet, I'm saying, "No, no, no, nah, nope, no..."

Not to mention the other male authors I like.  Lloyd Alexander (whom I've already read this year anyway), Jim Butcher, Brent Weeks, Patrick Rothfuss (if he ever puts out book 3 of Kingkiller!), Kelly McCullough, and some classics that I've never read written by, I'm sorry, men.  King Stephen.  Louis L'Amour.  I picked up a copy of The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis the other day from Goodwill.  I have Shakespeare plays I want to read.  Stardust by Neil Gaiman was $1.99 for Nook the other day.  Got it.  I found a pretty copy of The Ocean at the End of the Lane the other day at the Book Bag.  Hardcover, dust jacket intact, like new, $5.  I hope to get to it this year.  

Yeah, I've got some Melanie Rawn and some LUNA books on my to-read list for 2014, but they're what I want to read.  My brand names.  The books I'm curious about.  

Of course, there's my list of romance authors too.  Victoria Alexander, Suzanne Enoch, Stephanie Laurens, Julia Quinn.  I care about romance.  It's bashed all the time.  Historical romance is my "you should read this" crusade.  Not erotic romance, not scumbag heroes.  Just guy meets girl, cute, sweet, funny romance.  Every time someone writes a "romance is stupid" article, the romance readers get in an uproar.

My favorite genres, romance and fantasy, are quite possibly the two most bashed and/or dismissed genres.  Frankly, I think people who dismiss or bash are just stupid.  Like Bonaparte said, “Never ascribe to malice that which can adequately be explained by incompetence.”

I've come to the amazing conclusion when dealing with the Internet, the media, and people in general:

To each his own.  And I refuse to politically correct that.  I don't have to agree with you.  I have my opinions and you have yours.  For myself, I read what I want to read, and if you don't like it, you can go sulk in the corner.  Personally, I don't think I care what you read either, so long as you're reading.

Because, as I've said in the beginning, I'm an asshole.  It's difficult to care about something I don't care about.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, "Things I Don't Care About" by Tim Hawkins

I swear, this song is the story of my life...
Lyrics HERE

"Never Alone," and other Powerful Statements

I finished "The Blackwood" by Wayne Thomas Batson at something like 12-1 o'clock in the morning yesterday.  January 4th, that is.  After the story, there's a little "surprise."  I won't spoil it, but I have to wonder if "The Blackwood" was the wrapping, and the surprise was the real gift.

Not that "The Blackwood" isn't great.  IT IS.  It is so freaking great.  Mr. Batson can spin a fun story like nobody's business.  Like Lloyd Alexander, except blatantly Christian, and a little lengthier.

That may not sound like a big deal to you, but it's a compliment from me, believe me.

Oh shoot, I AM going to have to spoil the surprise.  It had such an effect on me.

It's a special epilogue to The Door Within series. I'll not spoil it entirely, but, King Eliam says this:

"But in all that time, you were still in my hands.  You were never alone.  Even if you had fallen, what harm could have come to you?"

Aidan points out he could've died.

"And you did die, Aidan....valiantly.  But for my children, death has no sting, no lasting bite.  Before your breath ended there, your first breath began here."

There is an unbelievable amount of power in those statements.

It fits with the motto of the series:  "Never alone."

I never thought a mere two words could be so powerful.

I think it's something kind of sick how fantasy--quite possibly the bane of the serious critic's existence--is so powerful, especially children's fantasy.  I remember seeing once that people think it's only a great children's story if it conveys some great lesson.  But a great children's story can also be one that just causes the child to smile.

I agree with that, and not.  Lloyd Alexander and Wayne Batson are both chock full of lessons, intended or not.  But on the same token, I don't know if there's a greater lesson to Vesper Holly, and I love them anyway (but I never recall calling them great, just fun, so I don't know).

Lloyd Alexander has a lot of powerful statements in his books.

In The Foundling, Dallben is given The Book of Three.  He loved knowledge and sought wisdom.  He despaired at first when he saw all of the awful things in the book.  But then:

"The book lay nearby.  Its last pages still unread and, for a moment, Dallben thought to tear them to shreds and scatter them to the wind.  Then he said:

"'I have begun it, and I will finish it, whatever else it may foretell.'

"Fearfully and reluctantly, he began to read once more.  But now his heart lifted.  These pages not only told of death, but of birth as well; how the earth turns in its own time and in its own way gives back what it given it; how things lost may be found again; and how one day ends for another to begin.  He learned that the lives of men are short and filled with pain, yet each one a priceless treasure, whether it be that of a prince or a pig-keeper.  And, at the last, the book taught him that while nothing was certain, all was possible.

"'At the end of knowledge, wisdom begins,' Dallben murmured.  'And at the end of wisdom there is not grief, but hope.'"

That's powerful.  That's dragons can be beaten talk.  It's all sorts of wonderful.

And, of course, there's from the Prydain books proper.

"It is easy to judge evil unmixed. But, alas, in most of us good and bad are closely woven as the threads on a loom; greater wisdom than mine is needed for the judging.”
― Lloyd Alexander, The Black Cauldron
I loved that.  It's amazing.

“Life's a forge -

Yes, and hammer and anvil, too. You'll
be roasted, smelted, and pounded, and
you'll scarce know what's happening to
you. But stand proudly to it. Metal's
worthless till it is shaped and
tempered. More labor than luck. Face
the pounding, don't fear the proving;
and you'll stand well against any
hammer and anvil.”
― Lloyd Alexander, The High King
I read in another book, a romance, the hero says Jesus may have been a carpenter, but the Father was a blacksmith.

Fine picture, that.

Thought-provoking.  Powerful.  In children's literature.  When I come across things like that, it makes me wish I had read more as a child.  Maybe things would've been different, and it makes me wonder if I could've spared myself a lot of heartache.

Never alone.



*Quotes taken from Goodreads and my highlighted notes from my Kindle, no copyright infringement intended.

Ramble About

The New Year’s been okay, so far.  I read 3 books in the past 2 days, and started on a short story today.  I wrote 1k per day for the 1st and the 2nd.

Today, I returned to work, and I lollygagged.  I read during work because it was a slow night.  Stuff did’t need to be shelved and I did all the pre-closing crap.

I didn’t write anything today.  Which, is why I’m doing a blogpost.  I’m cheating.  Easy 1k before midnight, right here—even if I don’t post it before midnight.

I have to remind myself of the routine for work days.  Whether I work that night or that morning, the other half of the day must be spent productively.

No DumpaDay, no Facebook, no Pinterest.  Writing, reading, studying, homework is all so much more important.

Prioritize, Jadi.  And start that damn paper!  And do that study guide!

I managed 3 books in two days.  Never mind two were children’s and another a graphic novel.

Speaking of, I got my first one yesterday.  Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files:  Goul Goblin.  My first ever graphic novel.  Of course it would be Dresden.

You have to understand something here:  The Dresden Files is the only series I like that actually has a good geek fandom.

People like Victoria Alexander, Julia Quinn, Stephanie Laurens all have fans.  But understand something, I don’t fit the stereotypical picture of a romance reader.  Romance readers are normally married, college-educated, middle-aged women.  Or so stastistics say.

I’ve never been so much as asked out.  I’m barely 21.  I am working on the college-educated part, but even that...

Although, most romance readers say they were young when they started.  They’re just not so young anymore.  Now, a lot of young adults, however, have a lot of good YA fiction.  With their own love stories.  I don’t know.  I’m not a teen or tween anymore.  And I’ve been reading romance for years.

I used to spend some time on forums for other book series—Christian fantasy.  I don’t much more these days.  It seems the older I get, the less I want to post my opinions, thoughts, whatever online unless it’s on my own Facebook timeline, or my own blog.

What can I say?  I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said before.

That, I think, is the epitome of low self-esteem.  “I’m not special.  I’m nothing new or original.  I can’t contribute to this conversation.”

I’m good at restating the obvious.  I don’t enjoy it, but I’m good at it.  And posting an “I agree,” seems extraneous.

Okay, I got my 500 words.  Or close to.  Don’t word count me.  I didn’t write  on my WiP.   I started a new one.  One that’ll probably be abandoned for a new project, or an old one.

Which is another thing.  It’ll be going on 2 years that I’ve put out “My Fair Donor.”  I think it’s time I put something else out there, don’t you think?

I should set a deadline:  Have something else ready for Smashwords, and the whole she-bang, by May.  If I knew it to the day, I’d set it, but I don’t.  But May.  The two-year mark.

Sounds good?

Good.

This girl needs to get her priorities straight.  I can have everything, but if I don’t write, I am nothing.

I may sleep with a clear conscience tonight.

Books, Books, and More Books

I ended the year with 1,005 books.  I haven't bought any yet, but it's part of my NYR to keep track of how many I buy in a year, and how much I spend.  So, I made up a list of books I absolutely had to read, finish, re-start, or re-read this year (coming out to 51 books) printed it out and all that, and found a pseudo-empty composition book (meaning I tore the used pages out and put it with my un-used ones) and started writing crap down.

I have, however, started and finished one book today.  The Philadelphia Adventure by Lloyd Alexander.  All three of the books I have by him that I haven't read are on that list.  There's one done.

Really, I'm 21.  There are a host of children's books I really need to read before I'm a full adult.  So, I'm really, really needing to get those done.  Not to mention, they're easy, and a good way to start the year.  Lloyd Alexander is not great literature, I'll admit as much, but he's good.  

Also, I managed a good 1k today.  Overall, a good start to the year.  Now to get started on that 12-15 page paper & presentation on Schizoid Personality Disorder due the second week I'm back in classes.  And the study guide for a midterm the week I return.

A girl's got to have her priorities straight.

My Year in Review

Three days left for 2013.  I’m one book short of my reading challenge.  I have bookmarks in, like, 6-7 books though.  Ha ha, not all of that is going to get finished, and I don’t want to take the bookmarks out.  I’ll just subract them from next year’s reading challenge when I DO finish them.

I have a 12-15 page paper due when I return to classes in February that I really, really need to get started on.  Not to mention a presentation due the second week I’m back.

I’m still working, although I hate working and being in school at the same time. It’s hard, and my writing and reading has suffered for it.

The first six months of this year were employed by taking care of the animals, reading, and general job-hunting, and the closest thing to an existential crisis I can have.

Come July, things started looking up.  I got a job.  I know since I’ve started working, I’ve bought over 100 books. Over 100 books in six months.  Feeding an addiction is tough, man.

I started school in August, and turned 21.  I’ve gambled and drank.  I’ve settled back into college life as well as I can manage.  I guess I’m happy where I am now.  As happy as can be expected.  I’ve written and read a little something-something.

My New Year’s Resolutions are

1, and most important:  Keep track of just how many books I buy & how much I spend in a calendar year.  Meaning, come January 1^st, I shall start keeping a log, just for the fun of it.  Because I’m curious about my strange addiction to buying books.

2, and also important:  Quit procrastinating.  But I’m waiting till after the first to do this.  I’m putting off putting off.

3, and very, very important too:  Find a church or ministry to get plugged in with so that I may tithe.  I’ve tithed here and there, but not much, and it’s not as if I can’t afford to tithe.  I shouldn’t be able to afford not to.  So, I shall find a church, or a ministry that needs funds.

4, not so important, but here you are anyway:  To read more classic books, and less romance. It’s not that important, and I’m not ashamed of my love for all things historical romance.  However, I’ve only read a handfull of classics, and that’s sad for a self-proclaimed bookworm.  At the same time, while I know other kids had an understanding far surperior to mine as it is now, I’m kind of glad I put off reading the classics till adulthood.  New adulthood, at any rate.  See here.

5, again not important:  to lose weight, get healthy, and, oh my gosh.  Thank you for laughing, because that’s a big fat joke.  Pun intended.

Digressing Rant:  Seriously, why wait until the New Year for that?  Because you wish to indulge during the holidays?  Do it.  Doesn’t matter. To my mind, it’s all about your breaking point.  When you really want to make that change, really, you will do it.  If it’s important, you make time.  If not, you make an excuse.  Going on with the cliches, when you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up.  Maybe when I’m morbidly obese.  Maybe when I feel the need to attract a husband, or just one date before I get myself to a nunnery.  I don’t have a reason to want it badly enough, not right now.  I want it, yes, but not that bad.  Not as bad as I need to support my book habit.  Not as bad as I like ice cream.  Maybe someday.  But not today.  A healthy choice here and there spaced out between months at a time is still good.  For now.  I haven’t gone up a pants size this year, but I haven’t lost one either. Oh well.  Okay, rant over.

6, again, not as important:  to read and write more.  Obviously I have my good and bad days, but I try to do this all the time anyway.  I mark my calendar and everything now.  I didn’t do as well as I would have liked between work and school the past six months, but I’m learning.  Regardless of whether it’s a NYR or not, it’ll always be something to strive for.

So, my year’s been full of ups and downs.  It’s been a lot of growing up.  It’s been working.  It’s been getting a car, and having to pay bills.  It’s going into debt because I took out a student loan.  It’s been reading a lot and writing a lot.  It’s been emotional trauma between the Dresden Files and the Valisar trilogy.  It’s been realizing things about myself I don’t like and things I can live with.  It’s been twists of heaven and hell into that complicated thing we call life.

Bring it, 2014.  I’m ready as I’ll ever be.

Sweet Validation

It my least favo—rite time of the year!

(To be sang to, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”)

I hate when I read something in a wonderful book, and then can’t find it later.

I was doing my year-end scramble, trying to finish up all these books I have bookmarks in, you know.  One was What On Earth Have I Done? by Robert Fulghum.  You know the guy.  Everything I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.

He spends time in Crete, and the Cretans go way out for Easter more than they do for Christmas.  Fulghum’s not a Christian, but heaven help him if scandal is attached to his name because he didn’t celebrate Easter with them!

Their reasoning is that birthdays are common.  Everyone has a birthday.  Not everybody dies and comes back.  

I wish I could find the passage!

I’d never thought of it that way.  Christmas is a fomality.  Easter is a celebration.

I have my own views and thoughts about the world, about myself, near about everything that’s ever crossed my mind.  When I find something that shares my opinion, or  confirms what I thought I knew, it makes me feel like I am not alone after all, and that maybe I do have some of the intelligence everyone claims I have.

My other favorite moment of validation was looking at a list of famous INFPs (which is my personality type most often).  I’m the same personality type as Hans Christian Andersen.

HANS.  CHRISTIAN.  ANDERSEN.  It’s also the suspected personality type of Tolkien, Lewis, Rowling, Woolf, Milne, Watterson, Warhol, Van Gogh, Antoine Saint Exupery...

That’s all great too.  I know I’m a writer, a dreamer, sometimes even an artist.  I knew all that.

But I’m the same freaking personality type of Hans Christian Andersen.  It was encouraging.  Not that I ever have any doubts about what I’m meant to be (oh dear, my pants are on fire), but it’s a source of validation.  It’s in me, all I gotta do is believe in myself (and now I feel like puking for the triteness).  And follow my heart (gag).

 Validation is also my way of getting out of things.  I’ve been on the fence about the Fifty Shades of Grey books since I've heard about them.  My thing about popular books is that if it didn’t catch my attention before it was popular, and I check it out now, just to see, and it’s not something I want to read, I fail to see why I should read a book just because it’s popular.

Life is too short to read books you’re not certain you’ll care for.  Life is also too short to pass a possibly good book up.

But I don’t like BDSM.  I’ve tried to read it in the past.  I didn’t like it.  I quit.  I’ve heard things about Fifty Shades portraying an unhealthy relationship.  I don’t like those either.  I can forgive a lot in a heroine, but I will not forgive an a-hole hero.  I don’t make a habit of reading serious literature.  Give me healthy relationships, and dragons, thank you, please, ma’am.  I save the dysfunctions for real life.

I spend a lot of time on the Smart Bitches, Trashy Books website.  It’s a great resource for romance books.  “All of the romance, none of the bullshit.”

Fifty Shades got reviewed there, and they gave it a “did not finish."  So...

“Sweet validation!  Now I don’t have to read it!”  Really, those were my thoughts on the matter.

But the truth was, like anything else, I was looking for excuses not to read it.  I don’t do contemporary romance.  I don’t do popular fiction (why no, I haven’t read the Hunger Games, nor do I ever plan to).

I think it would be different if they were in genres I actually have any dream of writing.  I don’t want to write YA.  I don’t want to write BDSM Erotic romance.  Or dystopia.  Or contemporary romance.  My genres are historical (Regency) romance and fantasy.  Those are my thing.  Had it been those genres, I would have picked them up out of sheer duty to my genres (although that still doesn't explain why Game of Thrones has been sitting on my shelf since late 2011, still unread).

And I don’t like jumping on bandwagons for nothing.  When I looked up the Dresden Files, I wanted to read them.  And I only have 2 books left.  I was on the fence about Kingkiller, but I regret nothing.  Those are some intimidating books, but they're awesome too. The same went for Riyria Revelations.  Well, actually, I just saw those and wanted them once they popped up in my recommendations.  How could I not?  I finally got them, and I read Theft of Swords.  Good stuff, that.  Good, good, GOOD stuff.

I shouldn’t need validation.  I shouldn’t have to explain my actions, nor feel guilty for not liking Jesus’ birthday (but in my defense, it’s really not his birthday, as he was born in the fall), or being an insecure about my writing destiny (I’m in good company there), or even skipping a book everybody else loves (I probably won’t like it, I know I won’t, I know!).

Still, it’s human to want to be part of a group, I think.  No man (or insecure college girl) is an island.  Nor would I wish to be.

The Other Divine Comedy, part 2: The Best Lie Ever Told

"Life is fair."

I am usually one of the first to say that life isn't fair.  And nowhere in any religion does it say life is fair, or that it should be.  You might find it in Marxism, but we generally don't like that in this part of the world.

And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree of the garden, but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for on the day you eat from it, you will certainly die.”
Genesis 2-16-17

~~~

“No! You will not die,” the serpent said to the woman. “In fact, God knows that when you eat it your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
Genesis 3:4-5

Uh huh, hm, well that's interesting.  ...  Fairness is often thought of in the same vein as equality.  The old snake made it sound like it was a good thing to be on par with God, at least on this level.

So apparently, this has been tripping us up from the beginning.

The Lord God said, “Since man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil, he must not reach out, take from the tree of life, eat, and live forever.”
Genesis 3:22

And don't forget, Cain killed Abel in a fit of jealousy.  It wasn't fair God favored Abel over Cain.  Cain gave God the leftovers, when Abel had given God the best of his flock.  But they both still gave something, right?

The idea of fairness, really, is dangerous.

If you've never read "Godfather Death" by the Grimm Brothers, pick it up.  Death makes all men equal.  Not everyone's born, not everybody really lives, but everybody dies.

Yes, yes, God will be fair:  everyone dies.  Death is life's great fairness.  Death is life's great certainty.  Taxes aren't a certainty anymore, but death still is.  Rich, poor, white, black, Mexican, Chinese, Christian, atheist, Buddhist.

Sometimes I wonder if God has a dark sense of humor.

You will certainly die.  Even Jesus died once.

This is really morbid stuff, I know.  I tell my nephews all the time, "Life isn't fair."  But I think, once you realize that, it kind of opens up new stuff.

“Life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not.”
― Oscar Wilde

Just imagine if everything you ever did came back to bite you in the butt.  Some people get what they deserve.  But turn that inward:  what if you got what you deserved?

Even the most successful people won't attribute it all to hard work.  There was a little luck involved.   There was a lot of hard work, but a lot of hard work can come to nothing.  If life were fair, it wouldn't be so, but it's not.  Case in point:  most writers put their heart and soul in their writing.  Do they deserve to hit the best-seller list?  Probably.  Will they?  They might only sell a few hundred copies.  Hard work will only take you so far.  Work hard, but sometimes it's not enough.

Life's a lot of work, some blessings, some curses, perhaps some luck thrown in for spice.  But it is not, nor is it ever fair.  And perhaps it shouldn't be.

The Gilmour Article, Romance, and My Pet Peeves

I have this developing misanthrope.  And I'm starting to feel it even toward my fellow readers.

First, because I'm just going to say a few short lines on the matter:  the way the book world responded to the Gilmour article was returning douchebuggery for douchebuggery.  So an academic had an opinion.  Big whoop.  I read the article.  The guy's an a-hole.  Period.

Being a reader means being open-minded.  It means understanding and accepting that people are going to have different opinions than you.

The guy's not a reader.  He's a professor.  And guess what?  The guy teaches short fiction.  Guess what else?  The Americans and the Russians dominate that field in classic literature.  Any lit teacher will tell you that.  You can't change history.

I was ashamed of my fellow readers when I heard the outcry.  Y'all know better.

To quote Christina Dodd from her Read-A-Romance-Month article, it's about romance, but it goes for all book-bashing, really:

"It’s become an internet standard that if a psychologist/book columnist/writer of “more important” fiction, wants attention, s/he posts a “Romance is stupid” article. Frankly, the organ that creates my outrage is exhausted. I can’t get excited (again), when someone I don’t know, don’t care about, will never hear of again, bashes my genre. [emphais mine]

....

So it’s time for us romance readers and writers to pull up our big girl panties and stop arguing with the willfully ignorant, and stop worrying about whether we are respected.

....

— According to a study cited by Dr. Joyce Brothers, women who read romance novels make love seventy-four percent more often than women who don’t read romance novels.

— According to special research from the British Medical Journal, the more orgasms you have, the longer you’re likely to live.

Assuming those studies are true, we don’t need to “read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.” We romance readers are going to outlive all the critics anyway.

Full Article HERE

And on the topic of romance, I hate when I see books gave me unrealistic expectations about men.  I mean, I have a special hatred in my heart for that crap--right there with my special hatred for reality TV.  Girls, you've obviously never read a romance, WHICH ARE ACTUALLY ABOUT LOVE AND RELATIONSHIPS.

Those guys aren't perfect.  They're screwy, stupid, dominating/posessive, afraid of committment, you-name-it.  In some cases, misogynistic.

But that's why we love them.  I will admit, romance books probably gave me unrealistic expectactions about sex (I'm a virgin, what do I really know anyway? and even romance writers will say it's unrealistic), but not about the male of the species.  Men will be men, and women will be women.  We're different, but we complete each other.  Yin and yang.  The two become one.  All that.

Frankly, I think it's mostly girls that are into YA saying it/making the memes.  Girls, that is NOT where to look for your standards for a relationship/husband.  And you're too young to be thinking about that anyway.

Maybe I'm being overly critical.  Maybe because I'm terminally single and I don't even think an idiot out there exists for me.  However, probably more because I read a lot of adult romance, and I don't have a long list of things I'd want in a potential husband.  Because I don't read YA and am not sensitive to the matter.

If I learned anything from romance novels, it's that you never wind up with the kind of person you thought you would, or what you thought you wanted.  He'll annoy you.  And you'll have to learn to work as a team.  You might even hate him at first.  He might be a little dense.  He will not, under any circumstances, be perfect.  He will be a guy.

And this, because I love it so:

Reading Habits and On to Narnia

I'm not overly fond of the classics.  This is what led me to drop the English majoring.

I'd never read Narnia or Lord of the Rings (or past the first book, anyway), and yet I wanted to be a fantasy writer.

It always struck me as a little...well, not exactly hypocritical, but perhaps a little, well, as unpreparedness.  I always had the intention of reading them.  I always knew that someday, I would have to.  Because really, you can't be a fantasy writer unless LOTR or Narnia captured you so hard that you wanted to write fantasy for the rest of your life.

It's required reading, like Austen is for romance writers--or at least Regency romance writers, anyway.  Like H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe and Stephen King are for horror writers.  And Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley.

I got into the Dresden Files.  If you've never heard of it, it's like Harry Potter for adults.  I've never read Harry Potter (I wasn't allowed, although they ARE on my to-read list once I'm out from under my parents' roof), so I don't know the accuracy of the statement, but there you are.  I always said it was like Sookie Stackhouse for men--and women with better taste.  O.o.

Like everything else, I'm late to the game reading them.  There's 14 books out now, and 15, while I haven't seen cover art, has a title.  I started them earlier this year, and I'm pretty in love with them.  They're great stories.  I just finished book 8 yesterday.  I've been running around all week with school and work, and I had yesterday off.  I napped.  You work part time and go to school part time, and still manage your K a day and maintain reading habits....  It sucks being an adult.  I can't imagine what it must be like for people with kids.

...then I had a dream about people summoning up demons.  This happens fairly often in the Dresden Files, and I've been mainlining them, really.  And when I woke up, I was a little shaken.

Time to take a break.  So, I took a step back.  Okay, time to find something else to read for now.

I read The Magician's Nephew in June.  I picked up an omnibus edition of Narnia earlier this year, so I'm reading them in the order they're placed in the book.

I don't want to go back to reading romance, and I need a fantasy, and none of the fantasy books I have bookmarks in right now probably aren't going to help me...

So I pulled Narnia off my shelf.  I read about half of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe yesterday, and the other half this morning.

I've seen the movies, so I already had an idea of what was going to happen.  And, I think I felt this way when I finished The Magician's Nephew, I'm kind of glad I didn't read it as a child.

I didn't read much as a child anyway.  My childhood was pretty normal up until middle school.  I was an outside kid.  I ran and played and stank of the outside a lot.  I think it's the glasses.  Once you're dependent upon them completely (which I've been since 6th grade and still am to this day) the physical side really takes a lower spot on the priority list.  It's a little limiting. I began reading The Fellowship of the Ring in 6th grade and finished it sometime the following the summer.  I've been in The Two Towers ever since.

All that being said, I don't think I was ready to read Narnia as a child anyway.  I mean, I read Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde my freshman year of high school, and I barely remember it.  I remember liking it, but nothing really stuck with me about it.  One day, I'll re-read it.

Which is what I tell myself about most the books I read. 

So, yeah, like everything, I'm late to the Narnia reading game, but I'd rather read it late, and really appreciate it and remember it, than have read it years ago--like back in elementary school--and then not remember it as an adult.

And since I'm not certain I'm ready to go back to the Dresden Files just yet, I may take another Narnia book.

And Still No...

I turned 21 yesterday.

I'm proud to say I did get a job before I turned 21.  I also am back in college.  (Yay for staying on my parents' health insurance!)  I'm double majoring in Criminal Justice and Psychology.

I know.  I'm just as shocked as you are.

We always make jokes about what we'll do when we hit a milestone year.

Guess what?  I didn't buy a pack of cigarettes till I was 19--almost 20.  And even then, they weren't for me.  My sister sent me buy her cigarettes.

I've drank before--please don't tell my mom--but not in the last 24 hours.  I didn't go to a casino.  Matter of fact, I did the same thing this year as I did last year, sort of.

I passed some bookstores, got some books, went out to eat and called it a day.  I got SRL's new one...and read it in something like 5 hours.  And now I get to wait a whole year before the next one in the series comes out.

I found a What People Accomplished When They Were Your Age Generator.  So I typed in 21.

And here it is.  My remarks are in italics.

At age 21:

Italian violinist and composer Giuseppe Tartini had a dream in which he sold his soul to the Devil. The piece he wrote upon waking, the "Devil's Sonata," was the best he ever wrote, though far inferior to the one he heard in his dream.   Does that mean he really did?  I mean, dreams are important, man.  I had a dream once when I got a text message from the devil.  Different times we live in.

American novelist Herman Melville jumped ship and spent a month as the captive of a cannibal tribe. This became the source of his novel Typee.  Awesome.  Just awesome.  And he survived.  Glad I'm not him, though.

Jack London went to the Klondike with the first rush of gold-seekers, returning home a year later as poor as when he had left.  That sucks.

English chemist Humphry Davy discovered nitrous oxide ("laughing gas"), and suggested that it may have use as an anaesthetic.  Now I'm just intimidated.

Thomas Alva Edison created his first invention, an electric vote recorder. After it failed to sell, he decided to devote his energy to inventions for which there was a market.  Wow.  Holy crap, don't think too long on this one.

John Dillinger robbed a grocery store, was caught and spent 9 years in prison. He later became "public enemy number one," before being gunned down by the FBI.  Sppt.

Luther Burbank purchased 17 acres of land near Lunenburg, Massachusetts and began a plant-breeding career that would span 55 years.  Impressive.

Pablo Casals made significant modifications in cello playing technique and was acclaimed as a master.  Impressive.  Child genius, I guess.  Never heard of him, though.

Pittsburgh songwriter Stephen Foster wrote "Oh! Susanna!" which quickly gained great popularity.  That's cool.

Future robber baron Jay Gould began investing in the leather business and speculating in railroad stocks.  Wow.

Robert Browning publishes his first poetry; it is poorly received.  No duh.  Of course.

Alfred Tennyson publishes his first poetry; it is poorly received.  No duh.  Of course.

College dropout Steven Jobs co-founded Apple Computer.  Look, something I'm famliar with.

French mathematician Evariste Galois developed group theory (and many other theorems) before his death at the age of 21.  Depressing.


Jesse Ball of New York stayed awake for 129 hours. At this same age, he had a dream that seemed to last 13 years.  THAT is impressive.

And what have I accomplished?

I survived to adult, legal age, and I self-pubbed a book last year.

According to Goodreads I've read 665 books & short stories (all hail Kindle shorts).  My personal print library consists of 922 books.  I've written a few stories and novels.  I've kept an inconsistent blog.  Blogs.  Plural.

And I can still use Spreadsheet and can make a pie chart of my book stats:

"N/A" comprises books that are either regferences, or story collections.  Books you don't exactly read cover-to-cover.

Eh, not bad.

Introversion and People

I got a job.  Part time.  At the local Fred's.  Minimum wage.  My first day was Tuesday.  I worked yesterday (Thursday), today, and am expected for the next few days.

I think I understand the "introverts gain energy by being alone" now.  I don't feel it at work, but after, I feel drained.  Not tired, but drained.

But a little human interaction is good, right?  Right.

But after, don't talk to me.  I'm not on the clock, and I don't feel the need for intelligent human interaction.

It's weird, like I'm supposed to be a grown up now.  I'm not certain how I feel about that.

Goals

Today, during a job interview, I was asked for 2 short term goals, and a long term goal.

Get a job, hire an editor, get an agent, become best-selling author with a fame to rival Stephen King's.  Or, get a job, hire an editor, self-publish and gain fame to rival some self-pubbed author.

Like heck I was going to say that.

Get a job, build up credit, possibly go back to school is what I said.  I had no idea.  My life's my writing.  Everything else is....everything else.

"I don't know.  I kinda try to take it one day at a time.  Why do you think I applied to fast food places?"

That would've gone over well.  Now, that I've had my adult moment of applying for a job, I'm going to watch Whisper of the Heart and re-capture my misspent MG years.

What will you bring to this job?  "My awesome sense of humor."  That would've gone over even better.

If I Didn't Spend Time Alone

I used to feel bad about spending a lot of time by myself. I could be out there doing all sorts of good toward my fellow man and all that crap.

I don't feel so guilty about it anymore.

I don't get lonely when I'm alone. I get lonely when I'm in a crowd and no one talks to me. When I try to get into the conversation and I'm ignored. I really get lonely when I'm surrounded by non-readers (which is the case in any social situation), because what else am I supposed to talk about? My writing? They don't understand. The farm? Most people don't care about that. Or the other ways my life sucks? Complaining won't get me anywhere either.

No thank you.

I prefer being alone. If I didn't spend time alone, I wouldn't be able to do the things I really like to do. Like read. Like write. Like watch TV shows or movies that my friends and family won't.

Writing is the only thing close to a calling I'll probably ever have. If I didn't spend time alone, I wouldn't be able to write, or read, so I can become a better writer. I wouldn't be able to read blogs. I wouldn't be able to day dream new scenes for my stories or how I wish life was.

I love reading. I love stories. I also agree with this, only I'm a chick, so masculine company, or companionship of any kind:

“Books are a poor substitute for female companionship, but they are easier to find.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

I've found I'm easier in the company of books than I am than when I'm with people.

It's a Wonderful Li[f]e

*Yes, this is somewhat in response to the athlete coming out, but really, it's about a general attitude of people, and even with my own issues.*

People are on this kick about being honest about not having it all together.  The problem with that, I think, is that I get the impression some people don't try anymore.

I know people say, "You don't have to be perfect."  However, behind that, there's supposed to be, "You're supposed to do your best."  I don't hear it and I don't see it.

It used to be, you pretended you had it all together, and people believed it.  And everybody was like that.  This person had it all together, so the next person had to too, and then so on...  And certain things just weren't done and talked about.

In that, I don't think following the crowd was bad.  Tradition is its own strength.  And just because it's traditional, doesn't mean it's wrong.

My point in all of this is, Clean your closet before you come out of it.  Everybody has struggles.  That's fine.  It's when you're okay with your problems and you stop caring and then people who are watching you stop caring because you don't care, and then nobody cares...   See my point?  There's plenty of different types of people in the world.  People who are open about not having it all together have reached their quota. The world needs people who at least give the illusion of having it all together so we have some kind of standard to live up to.

Nobody's perfect.  If we think that of you, that's on us, not you.  We all know better.  But keep it together.  Put on a brave face.  You're better than this, and can do better.  Stand up straight.  It does wonders.

And I'm saying that to myself too.