Labels


I’ve had this post/vent on my mind on and off for a few months now. What finally lead me to blog about it is my current excursion into this dating app that I’m trying out.

One of the questionnaires that you have the option to answer is regarding your sexuality. For instance, are you a? Lesbian, bisexual, pan sexual, Gender fluid, demisexual, transgender, etc. This got me thinking, why in the hell are we using so many different labels? For instance the use of pan sexuality, why not just say that your bi, because your are basically attracted to both genders. Or better yet why don’t we just stop using all of these labels? If you’re a man who happens to be attracted to men; why couldn’t you say I prefer the company of men, and just drop the “I’m gay.”

Perhaps it’s because as human beings we cannot resist the urge of defining who we are. Or is it perhaps society? To make this world function properly we must have a name, a word, or a label for every single thing. Or perhaps it’s the fact that Obama’s term is coming to a close and we may very well be subjected to the horror of having a President Trump; who plans on overruling the supreme court’s marriage equality decision. Whatever the reason behind the labeling, I wish that we didn’t have the need for them, because we all are human and I’d like to think that we’ve progressed, minus the fact that we have a life size troll doll running for office.

 

Stephen King’s Carrie


 

Stephen King’s legendary debut, about a teenage outcast and the revenge she enacts on her classmates.
 
Carrie White may have been unfashionable and unpopular, but she had a gift. Carrie could make things move by concentrating on them. A candle would fall. A door would lock. This was her power and her sin. Then, an act of kindness, as spontaneous as the vicious taunts of her classmates, offered Carrie a chance to be a normal and go to her senior prom. But another act—of ferocious cruelty—turned her gift into a weapon of horror and destruction that her classmates would never forget.

 

Carrie, the first novel that we saw from Stephen King.

I had received this as a Christmas gift from my sister, and had gobbled the book down by mid-January.

This book drew me in, with Carrie’s telekinetic ability; along with her backstory. There’s just something about a God crazed mother and her manic parental practices, that not only keeps you reading, but makes you feel for Carrie white’s home life situation.

What propels the story forward is pure jealously mixed together with spoiled brat syndrome from the main antagonist Chris. Her desire to taunt Carrie White lands her in detention where she discovers she will not be permitted to attend her senior prom as she had been planning.

What follows is a most cruel plot to ruin Carrie White, but might actually blow up in her own face.

It’s a story of revenge, on all sides of the spectrum, which leaves a mark on the townsfolk of Chamberlain.

The story is gripping the only down side to it, is the back and forth between the action and the stories from the townsfolk. One moment you’re smackdab right in the middle of the action and things are really beginning to heat up; and then with a flip of the page, or end of the chapter. You’re reading sworn testimony by an onlooker, or a neighbor of the White’s. It was quite a bit of stop and go, though it was necessary I really felt that it took away from the excitement, you’d go from 60mph to 5mph and then back up again. He more than likely was going for that sort of roller coaster effect, but for me it had the opposite effect.

All in all, the story was pretty good and I can see why it became such a must read at the time of its publication, and why it’s now considered a classic Stephen King read. It’s one of those rare titles that’s definitely worth rereading.

Twilight: New Moon


New moonFor Bella Swan, there is one thing more important than life itself: Edward Cullen. But being in love with a vampire is more dangerous than Bella ever could have imagined. Edward has already rescued Bella from the clutches of an evil vampire, but now, as their daring relationship threatens all that is near and dear to them, they realize their troubles may just be beginning….

Legions of readers entranced by the New York Times bestseller Twilight are hungry for more, and they won’t be disappointed by this gripping sequel. In New Moon, Stephenie Meyer delivers another irresistible combination of romance and suspense with a supernatural twist. Passionate, riveting, and deeply moving, this vampire love saga is well on its way to literary immortality.

 

You may be wondering why I have decided to review the second book in the saga, instead of the first? The reason being was that this book in comparison to the rest, was so depressing. It was one of those reads where you’re thankful above all else that it’s over.

In the first book we become acquainted with the first sparks of first love, which is so exciting; with its new/unexplored experiences. The first kiss, first hand holding, secrets shared, or in this case secrets found out by Bella, from her friend Jacob. Going into New Moon you know that the love between Edward and Bella would surely have its obstacles given Edward’s vampire background, along with the danger that Bella faced in the first book. What I did not expect was the sudden vanishing of Edward from Bella’s life. It’s the suddenness of Edward’s departure that both Bella and Edward begin to slip into the cloud of depression.

It’s a difficult process when the first love ends, even when the reasoning behind the split is with good intentions. In this book it proves to be impossible to get over. There’s a few tilts of the hat toward Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Personally from a writer’s point of view, I think that Stephenie Meyer might have been curious to see how Romeo and Juliet would have turned out in this day and age; mixing it all up with vampires and Werewolves. It was interesting but as I said before, it was also depressing. Bella remains trapped in this fog of despair that only Jacob can somewhat pull her out of. There was also a lot of contemplation of suicide, which rubbed me the wrong way. But then again, the mere idea of teenage suicide saddens me. Perhaps Meyer was trying to put in a clear message that suicide and the heartbreak of first love should never go together. Or maybe it was just the modern day spinoff of Romeo and Juliet; of which the thoughts stemmed from. It keeps you turning the pages, and you’ll let out a sigh of relief once you reach the end of the book, but it wouldn’t be a book that I’d want to read more than once. The other books I could, but this one not so much.

 

A short glimpse


Hey everybody, I’ve been working on this short story for the past few days. (Still a WIP,) but I thought that I might actually try submitting. There’s no title to this piece but I thought I’d give you a peek. I hope you find it interesting.

 

The Autumn air, (still feeling like a warm summer day) whooshed past her face as she pumped her legs moving upward on the swing. There’s was something so peaceful about being on the swings, they could calm her thoughts even on her worst day. Today had been terrible, for the horrid teacher that she had suffered through last year, had followed her to eighth grade English. Ms. Nielson had picked up right where she had left off from the previous year, with the exception of changing curriculum. Instead of studying authors like Louis Sacher, and Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. They were now digging into memoirs, and History, like the Holocaust and reading The Diary of Anne Frank. How she longed for next year when they would be introduced to Shakespeare, or more accurately, Romeo & Juliet. Nielson had picked up right where she had left off, her voice ringing with clear fury, and her frustration showing even more easily in her old age. Why they don’t just let the old bat go; but then the word she despised popped into her head, tenure. For the next few years Nielson would have a permanent residence in the English department of Prescott Junior High, continuing to torture both students and staff with her nasty attitude. Just this year, just get through this year and you’ll never have to tolerate the old bitch again. Nielson might have been granted to torture the lower classmen but the upperclassmen got teachers like Parker, Long, and Kelly, all who were as even tempered as possible and young.

She glimpsed up at the blue mountain backdrop, (a gorgeously, magnificent sight that only The Rockies could provide.) She drifted willingly and happily. She could smell the rich mountain air, and see the Rockies as they were meant to be seen; up close and surrounding her in every direction. She could see the trail, unchanged, the Columbines blooming along it’s edges, as if they were guiding her up the trail. A light breeze brushed against her and pine trees provided shade from the sun overhead. If only she could stay in this memory, but at the very least the memory had served its purpose. To wash away what had clung to her conscious mind, since the guidance counselor had presented her with her class schedule. Now she could go home, now she could stand to be around her parents and deal with whatever might transpire.

“Roxy, Hey girl.”

Roxy broke her stare from the distant blue mountains and looked down the park’s fence alleyway, where Crystal emerged from, smiling broadly.

“Hey Crystal,” Roxy greeted, but showed no signs of slowing down, as her legs took in another pump of the air.

“You know something, every time I come to the park you’re always on the swings.”

“I like to lose myself on them,” she said flatly.

“Me too,” said Crystal, as she mounted the other available swing, next to Roxy.

Roxy felt a wave of annoyance and displeasure wash over her.

“So how’d your first day back go?” Crystal asked then added, “Mine was long and boring.”

“It was all right,” she said, not caring enough to mention her dislike to find out that she had Nielson for another year.

“I’ve got homework already, Nielson,” Crystal continued.

Oh thanks for reminding me, homework on the first day, what kind of teacher gives a homework assignment on the first day back. At least it’s easy. Roxy thought as Crystal’s continued yammering began to sound like static from a radio.

A few minutes later Crystal dismounted from the swing set only to head over to the jungle gym to climb on the monkey bars, still yammering about subjects such as school friends, and her folks. At least that’s what Roxy assumed. Every once in a while when she would tune Crystal back in. At which point Roxy would say “Yeah, that’s ridiculous, or parents are weird.”

It had been shortly after Crystal had dismounted from the swings that Roxy first noticed her. She recognized her instantly. It was that curly haired new girl, she’d seen her around the neighborhood a few weeks before school began, and she seemed different, compared the other girls in the neighborhood; she kept to herself, and seemed shy. But there was something else about this girl that had nothing to do with the vibes she put off, no it was something unrecognizable to Roxy. It almost felt like a question with the answer visible, but still far too blurred to properly see it. So she knew the thing was there and yet, blank.

I dream of fun in the sun


Without a shred of doubt I’ve got a lot to be thankful for this year. The book, the house, but above all else at the moment, I’m thankful for the backyard, and the above ground pool.

Over this past week I’ve been busy assembling a gazebo, patio furniture, and rolling out the artificial grass carpet. Yes sir, this year there’s going to be plenty of activities this summer. And that’s where I find my mind wandering off to, the pool, cookouts, parties; I know it’s going to be a fun summer. (Which is the first time that I’ve actually been able to say that, instead of wishing or hoping for it.)

However with all of this going on, I find myself on a slippery slope writing wise. Tonight, for the first time in a little over a week; I’ve actually forced myself to sit at my desk and work on the book, (which I’m still a little stuck on,but getting better in the results department.) I think I really need to get my ass back into the swing of a scheduled routine; instead of writing when I’m feeling a little less nervous/blocked. Once again I’m wishing that I had the will power and the determination of Mr Stephen King. The man writes everyday and I want to get myself into that same grove, if only just to get in the necessary practice time so that I can better my literary craft. But… I can say one thing that I’m doing and that’s reading, I’ve got this portion of practice down. Now to get a better grasp on the writing portion.

Goal set, and unlike my New years resolutions, this I plan on sticking to and see it through, like a weight loss program.

Break rules and be inspired


I wanted to write a post about something that I felt inspired by; usually that has to do with something about the craft of writing. As habit would prove, I’ve dug up a YouTube video revolving around a TIME interview that fit the bill.

I’ve been attempting to broaden my horizons, both as an author and as a reader, by digging into books, and authors that ordinarily wouldn’t be my cup of tea. Most recently I’ve sank my teeth into the Twilight saga. Thus far, I have only downed the first book, which I am happy to discover turned out to be better than the movie series, (which was partially to blame for my skepticism towards the book series.) But if I paid more attention to film adaptations than the books, I’d be missing out on some true learning experiences.

When I find an author that intrigues my interest, I generally like to hear their stories on their the literary craft. How writing inspires them? What interested them in writing the kinds of stories that they write? Etcetera. Well, what else can I say except, break the rules, and let your imagination run wild. Seem a bit odd? The video below shall help.

 

Blank


Fill in the blank sheet of paper, or fill the blank page of a Word Doc. Either task can terrify even the most skilled writer. But what’s even more terrifying than seeing a blank page? Seeing a blank page remain empty, because the writer behind the pen or keyboard may be uncertain. Uncertain of their direction, of the piece once the work has commenced, and even uncertain when the story is laid out in front of him/her, like a road map.

There are a lot of uncertainties when it comes to the entire writing process, the one reliable tool that we do have to our advantage is our imagination. Which is stronger than those irrational fears that we come face to face with on a daily basis. Fear not the blank page, fear not the writer’s block, but fear the lack of imagination; for it’s when that wonderful gift is no longer present, that we’ll have plenty of reason to worry when the blank page is presented.