tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46290383664498007622024-02-19T08:19:03.613-08:00Simone LisbonSatisfied StoryTeller of exotic, I mean, erotic fiction...Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-43419091380830819342016-09-30T09:57:00.001-07:002016-09-30T09:57:12.022-07:00Self-Destructing/Southern Charm - Book ReviewsMy reading list this month is long. In addition to the book I started 3 years ago and still have yet to finish, I had a twist on <i>Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde</i> as well as a Slavery perspective based on relatives in the author's life. Where to start? Well the quick read of book 1 in the <i>Mr. Self-Destruct</i> series, of course.<br />
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If you haven't gotten your hands on this book yet, it's for sale through the humorous writer himself, Mr. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thebigwiggle" target="_blank">Joshua Peck</a>. Basically a few years ago after joining an online writer's group I found myself laughing everyday when I'd spy a comment by this young man. In addition he was a self-publishing author and prolific with his work. I couldn't compete so I've sat back and just enjoyed his antics and body of work when I can afford it. Finally a week or two ago he asked little ol' me to give a book review on his work. I've read other stories, but to actually help out such an accomplished gentleman? <i>Challenge accepted!</i><br />
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<i>The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde</i> is a story by Robert Louis Stevenson. If you remember from an earlier post I have a special tie to Mr. Stevenson's work. My step-father had the same name and at such a young age as five years old I thought I was about to move in with one of my favorite authors. I bragged at school about how cool my mother was to be marrying <i>Treasure Island</i> guy. The school librarian corrected me, but that didn't stop me from being a long time fan.<br />
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<i>Jekyll and Hyde</i> is twist on <i><a href="https://www.literotica.com/s/rose-and-the-beast" target="_blank">Beauty & the Beast</a> </i>and now you know how ingrained this tale is and near and dear to my heart. <i>Mr. Self-Destruct </i>starts off by deconstructing the mind of a socialpath with enough open flaws to be thrown away in mental health system for life. It took me on a roller coaster ride through the mindset that is often scary and deals with some dark and tortured subject matter for a single character. It's an original take and successful tackle of this fave story of mine so please stop by and enjoy today.<br />
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I'm also finally getting into <i>Seeds of Magnolia</i> by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/1942BillMiller?fref=ts" target="_blank">Bill Miller</a>. This subject matter although very important history of people of color, specifically the black community, I find it hard to tackle not only for myself but in general. It spans an ugly time in American history. One that America is unwilling to apologize for today. It seems that especially the government would rather forget that slavery built America and that a lot of people got caught up in this practice without a way out and without knowing what true freedom means. Does slavery still exist today? Yes and that's a bigger problem than just ignoring and playing ignorant to what was happening in this country 200 to 150 years ago.<br />
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So how do I move on from slavery? I vote and I practice a religion that speaks to me on a spiritual level. I discuss my own issues from being a victim of sexual assault by writing characters who deal with the same thing. I hope that my writing speaks to other people and helps them with their day. Bill Miller's story is a good one but that mental minefield was already cracked wide open with me and this just adds another layer to consider, how my ancestors were treated back in their day. I'm a third of the way through and it's promise to be an enticing story that hooks a reader is there. I'm just weird about the subject matter so please don't let my progress stop you from grabbing up this amazing story.<br />
<br />Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-87580150379914712742016-09-14T09:26:00.001-07:002016-09-14T09:26:12.685-07:00My Shitty Daddy DomThis is my experience with one person I met on a different site. It is a cautionary tale from my perspective. Take what you need or want from my words and form your own opinion.<br /><br />Internet based relationships are so common today, I believe people rarely take the time to consider there is a live person, a human being on the other end of that chat ID. Really, I swear, there is. Maybe you know this in theory, but it is something that is easy to forget.<br /><br />I knew someone who didn't put that connection together. Granted he was a self-proclaimed asshole and stuff like that was why he announced it with pride. I found his view rather douchy and we are no longer speaking to one another.<br /><br />So, I was going about what I do, which is write porn, when I come across someone who interested me. I observed their postings on a forum and got a feel for them before I made contact. We exchanged a few instant messages back and forth and after about a month we even exchanged phone numbers.<br /><br />He identified himself as a Daddy Dom and polyamorous. Neither of these identifiers are true of this jerk. He’s on the ‘down low’. He is married, publicly and socially ‘heterosexual’ while indulging in adulterous usually homosexual extra marital affairs according to his own words.<br /><br />The reason I didn’t see any of this at first is because I’d always thought that ‘down low’ guys were men who were closeted homosexuals, and although not every case is the same, usually what is really going on is they’re self-serving entitled assholes who want their cake and to eat it too without giving any consideration or respect to their spouse.<br /><br />So, um, sorry about that, but back to my story. Mr. Jerkoff and I talked at length about what his current relationship status was, 'married, but unhappy', where his tastes lie, the particulars, pet peeves, etc. all the things two people getting to know each other discuss.<br /><br />Something that should have sent up a red flag at the time was the 'married, but unhappy'. I have a personal policy about that one, where if a guy is 'married, but unhappy' I have no intention of moving our interactions to a RL environment. In other words, I will not help you cheat on you partner without their consent. I’m upfront and honest about my rule. I can't be convinced to break it, no matter what someone says or promises me.<br /><br />Usually, I wouldn't even have gone phone # exchange with a ‘married, but unhappy’, but in this case, I bent my own rule. Mistake number one. In my defense, I liked him. I enjoyed our chats. He stimulated my mind. He appeared vulnerable, yet strong, and our chats were the highlight of my stressful day. I felt as if I could share my thoughts with him easily without fear of judgement. I received such support from him, I let him talk me into going for it, the phone calls I mean. I had to hear the voice behind the words.<br /><br />So we spoke on the phone and it was satisfying and enjoyable and I let him into parts of me I'd never shared with a single soul, including myself. It was addictive, something I craved, wanted, no needed daily, hourly, every waking moment. Another month goes by and I give serious consideration to throwing my little rule out. Rules are made to broken and he seemed so worth it.<br /><br />It was a two-way street, I wasn't having a stalker moment at the time. He said all the right things and I truly believed and trusted the words that poured out the tiny speaker of my cell phone. I was happy, he was happy things were great and then, suddenly and without warning he stopped.<br /><br />The morning greeting via IM just disappeared one day. Out of the blue, just gone. For the first two days, I was like, hmmm, okay, he's busy. He has a wife. Stuff could be happening. Maybe he really doesn't have time to drop me a simple, "Good Morning" via IM. I didn’t know. I continued my morning virtual wave and tried not to let it bother too much.<br /><br />Then as the end of the first week approached and even the two "Hey, are you okay?"s received no response either, I was worried something had happened to him. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but seriously, I had no information to go on. Finally, frustrated, confused, and worried I broke our agreement and sent the following unsolicited text message to his cell phone, "Are you alive?"<br /><br />Mistake on my part # 2, was agreeing to that particular rule. I mean, yes, I was chatting and then talking to a 'married, but unhappy' man. I was not allowed to send him a text unless he gave me permission to do so. This sent up a red flag, but like I said, I was already past the point of no return. I liked him that much.<br /><br />That text message got an immediate response. I was admonished for sending it, as I knew I would be. He was fine, but very busy with work and there was a situation with the wife and he'd call me later that night. Two hours later, he calmed all my fears via phone and I was satisfied with this and we moved forward. This pattern repeated off and on over the course of the next month and finally I was done with it. I told him we could still be friends, but the phone calls stopped.<br /><br />I did the things I needed to do to protect my fragile heart. I said I was pulling back, I'd gone too far and I didn't even want contact going forward for a while. Only problem with this course of action was I’d gotten something out of it all and I wished we could go back to where we had been months earlier, even though I was the one who’d cut off contact.<br /><br />Then as if to pour salt into my wound he began publicly flaunting a new relationship on that other website I mentioned. I gotta admit, that hurt me on a level I didn’t understand. Either way, it was an ego bruising harsh reality, but some guys are dicks, not all of them, or even the majority of them, but occasionally you’re going to come across a few.<br /><br />All of this was the inspiration for the following piece titled ‘Cyber Fuck’.<br />
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Cyber Fuck<br />
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At first it was me,<br />That's not true.<br />At first it was HER,<br />then it was you.<br /><br />And I want to understand, I don't want to care. I don't want to hate or hurt or care. I don't need to see, and I see the way you say you would love me. And I want to feel secure. So I open to you. I let you see me. But not all of me. I let you see the lost me. The hurting me. The little girl who needs what only you can be. The loving, safe and secure Daddy. I crawl into your lap and let your arms wrap around me, and hold me. and I open to you, I let you see all of me. The most fragile part of me there is. The part of me that is there to give. The frightened piece of me that no one else is allowed to see.<br /><br />Then I see HER. I see her, and she's not just one person. She's many women to you. She's your daughter. She's your wife. And I see you love HER. She's your friend. She's your lover. She's your mistress. There's my heart, on display to you. Trusted to you, and only you.<br />
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And so I knock at the walls that I've built around my heart. And I let it beat with something it hasn't seen, or felt or even known in years. And then I see you with HER. And I'm missing you, and hurting and then you do this thing. You cyber fuck HER, in front of me. And you know, because I've told you it will hurt me. And that when it hurts me you said it was nothing. That SHE means so little to you, that you're just trying to be a good person, to HER. That SHE needs you. I want to understand that, and not hurt because of it. But I can't. I just can't. Because I gave you more than I knew I had to give. And just like HIM, you hurt me too.<br /><br />And so SHE comes between us. So I say that I won't care. I try to put the wall back up. And protect the fragile little thing I call a heart. And for a moment, for a second I believe that you really don't mean to hurt me.<br /><br />Then I see you and SHE. SHE and you. And it hurts. My heart, the thing I know in my head must be protected. Because my body can't live without it, bleeds as you cyber fuck HER.<br /><br />I bought the bricks today. I won't look, so I won't see HER...And I have a different hope. A new hope. I hope it never hurts again. That I cannot be cut, or slashed, or torn by YOU...Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-72529770233095480452016-08-12T18:34:00.001-07:002016-09-10T11:27:32.246-07:00Me, Myself & Men...When I question my sexuality, sexuality rarely answers back. I decided to take a break from men and define myself as Asexual when I was already in the early stages of menopause. In other words already in the middle of a mid-life crisis might as well go all the way. I'm just starting the next phase of my writing career, working on a lifestyle change as it pertains to my diets and on top of all of that trying to quit smoking. My body said 'no' so violently I recently spent two weeks in the hospital. More of my Higher Power laughing at my plans or am I so close to successful baby steps a warning to prepare for the war? I don't know for sure yet.<br />
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I feel like I'm transitioning between ugly duckling syndrome to swan like beauty. Finally a good friends advice is coming into play, "You'll get comfortable in your skin as you approach forty." Most days I don't mind calling myself 'single & lovin' it'. I'm open minded but have my preferences when it comes to men. Recently I found myself in the closest sexual relationship I've had to date. It's like I woke up in the middle of it, looked around and went 'oh yeah, the other shoe needs to drop' and as soon as I did it kicked my ass something fierce.<br />
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I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve so I didn't realize I was overboard in love and drowning until my life preserver got hard to see. That was about a year ago. Something about 16 years of friendship kept me going back for more punishment and not the good kind. I mean, yes, I'm a masochist and proud of it. But this was down right confusing and suffocating, I don't go for that breath play portion of my fetish. So what do you do when you think you've met Mr. Right and he turns out to be Mr. Right Now? I go back to my mother's advice and get used to rejection once again. This time with a sigh out loud.<br />
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How do I determine what song to sing? For me it depends so much more on my peer group, than when instead of flying I'd rather er, uh, get wiggy with it. Sometimes I want to be brave around men and instead I find I'm shy and closed off. If I find a guy cute I tend to blush. I have a similar reaction to very pretty women. As for me I've felt hetero-flexible for a long time, but recent events have me categorizing myself as Asexual. In other words, time to sex toy shop once again. *<i>sigh*</i><br />
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The fact is overall it was a friendship that turned into more but when our vision of the future didn't mean together anymore it was time for me to move on. I ended up feeling thrown away for a bit. 17 years of friendship is valuable so I'm hoping that I can salvage that precious portion of the relationship and so far, things were settling back into that comfort zone. Then anger I didn't even realize I had about the way things played out, well, I've also been struggling with the emotion battlefield of my last posting. In the simplest terms, I need more time to heal from my broken heart.<br />
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Lucky for you my dear readers I've decide to release the break on my budding career to see if it will flourish or fail. I'm also hoping to secure a second job in case my plans aren't quite what my Source has in store for me. I'm hoping to publish <i>Forced to Change</i> this year. I'm back to the copy editing stage again so I'm hopeful this marathon is finally in it's last leg so I can start the next race career wise.<br />
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I'm now competing with my peers for that oh so awesome prize of NY Times Best Selling Author. Okay so I'll start smaller, but it doesn't hurt to dream out loud. I would be disappointed but not defeated if I don't get to the publishing milestone this year with <i>FTC</i>. I'm still in the planning stage for the follow up <i>Changed by Time</i>. I don't know what tomorrow may bring I do know that I hope this is the year to rise as it pertains to my career...So when told to 'go fuck myself' I decided it was time to do just that. Hello Masturbation Bedroom!!!<br />
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<br />Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-33558407101658876732016-02-19T11:27:00.000-08:002016-02-19T11:44:48.217-08:00Valentine's Day Versus This Single Female...<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">A week late and a dollar short I’ve
decided to weigh in on this dreaded holiday that I once upon a time considered
pity party trigger material. It's hard being single. As a member of the table
for one club for quite a few years I have a perspective to offer to this
particular conversation. Previous postings that have tips on being a single
individual are<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i><a href="http://www.simonelisbon.com/2013/08/i-majored-in-flirting-in-college.html" target="_blank">I Majored In Flirting In College</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>&<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.simonelisbon.com/2013/08/flirting-101-continued.html" target="_blank">Flirting 101: Continued.</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>My roommate true to form has once
again proven a major advantage, 1/2 off candy in the days following Valentine’s
Day. I read in the Satanic Bible written by </span><span style="background: white; color: #252525; font-family: "georgia" , "serif"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anton_LaVey" target="_blank">Anton Szandor LaVey</a></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"> that
everyone hates lovers, couples. For me it was an envy of their happiness that
made me want to eat a gun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
Like most people I assumed I should search for true love, happily ever after
and the whole kit and caboodle. I assumed I could find happiness with another
human being. A very good friend suggested that being single was a good thing.
She said that I was lucky to be single and childless. She is still a wise woman
whose opinion I value. When she told me this I finally started to shift my
thinking on the single life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">In the last year I've learned that
my relationship with myself is the hardest one to maintain. When I compared
myself to other people I tend to place me as second, not hoping for first place
in someone else's heart. It is through self placement as first in my own heart
and with the help of my Higher Power that I've started to see self love as a
solution to loneliness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
I was an only child growing up. Again I was told this was supposed to be a good
thing by my peers. I didn't have siblings to fight with or over who was the
favorite among my parents. According to both of my parents I was it. The one
and only. My bio-dad reminded me often he wished I'd been a boy. He took that a
step further and mentored young men when I decided his career choice for me wasn't
the right path for me. My mother showed me through example how to be both
parents by being a single mom most of my young life. She was my disciplinarian,
protector, best friend, and advocate until her death. When she died, my
world crumbled and I spent the next few years lost without her guidance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The yearly round of holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years tend to
have me missing her presence. For the first time in a long time I tried to
recreate the flavors of her soul by cooking black eyed peas and greens for New
Year's Day. Okay, so I cheated on the greens and used canned. I have to say
overall it was a pretty good cooking, not quite my mom's but the memory was
less painful this past year than in previous years. So I'm calling it a
win. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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As I look forward to this year, I'm trying to finish up the final draft of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Forced to Change</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and publish it. My mother taught me to
go after my dreams hardcore. From the grave I still feel her encouragement and unconditional
love. She died while I was in college and as I move forward in my life it
usually hits me hard the achievements she misses in my life. I spent a lot of
time fearing and hurting that she didn't get to witness my graduation from
college.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
When I graduated from college it irritated me that my bio-dad claimed credit
for that accomplishment. He went on to belittle my mother's influence and
sacrifices. I agree that without his help, I wouldn't have made it through. We
often bumped heads as he tried to iron fist me to the finish line, er,
graduation day. My mother's death offered me opportunities that I appreciated
more in the moment with a lower level understanding of the price I continue to
pay, her physical absence from my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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My dad and I often had misunderstandings about who I was as a person. In my
eyes he often failed to make sure I knew it was okay to be who I am. He constantly conflicted his actions with his words as he told me who
he wanted me to be. He pressured me to be his ideal and until his death I
continued to feel that pressure while finding that no matter how hard I tried,
I disappointed him with my choices. For me it felt as if my parents were
divided in their plans for me and until I found a solid religious foundation I
couldn't reconcile their battle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
Today, I'm single and loving it most of the time. I try to try to be a better
person and work on and own my issues. I pray constantly for my future. I use my
past as a road map of who I could be with enough effort and hard work. Writing
continues to be a marathon, not a sprint and four years later I still have yet
to finish the work on<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Forced
to Change</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">As I stare at the finish line,
publishing, I've taken a step back to reflect on the person who started this
writing project with the one that I am today. So yes still single, but not as
lonely. I’ve come to depend on my roommate and I've learned to be a friend
indeed. For the time being I've shelved the hope of being #1 in someone else's
heart as it is not part of what drives me to succeed or something by which I
measure my own success. I leave this up to my Higher Power and I know that what
is meant to be will be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-47768629940879046732016-01-07T21:33:00.000-08:002016-07-09T13:22:55.829-07:00Marketing/Networking In Modern Times: Golfing vs. Gaming?I consider myself a child of the letter ‘M’ not the ‘X-Y’ Generation because of MacGyver & MTV. In other words, sorta a Millennial just a bit older. Plus as my PIC likes to tell people, I’m a Liar, er, excellent Creative Editor of some of the details of my life. Note to my younger readers, Richard Dean Anderson ran around for an hour each week on my TV set saving the world by using his intelligence, Mr. Wizard’s World-style science tricks and a lone Swiss Army knife to get him out of sticky life/death situations between 1985-1992. Not to be confused with RDA’s role on the TV series Stargate: SG-1. The forementioned character’s name? Secret Agent Angus MacGyver.<br />
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He was a pretty to look at leather wearing badass and wicked smart. He got the girl, lost the girl, got a new girl, basic 80’s TV drama 101. I think the show MythBusters got its start disproving awesome MacGyver Universe Scientific Explanations. Week after week the handy pocketknife was the only thing that stood between the hero and certain death. Today’s equivalent is Scorpion which airs on CBS. CBS is considering a MacGyver reboot too.<br />
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I did a blogpost years ago about my formula for fiction. As a writer, I find it’s a multi-layered hidden code that I try to break. Some genres work like vampire fiction, romance, sci-fi, etc. I have to figure out what I want to write about, but I also need to know why I’m writing certain themes over and over again. I’ve been writing since I was 7 years old. What you may not know about me is that is also the age I stopped being molested. Accidently I discovered my talent for the written word by picking a path to deal with painful events in my life. I survived them and turned those experiences into what I believe is something positive.<br />
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I do enjoy telling people I meet in person, “I write porn!” I’ve mentioned before this is a marketing tool. I like to push the envelope from time to time, throw an average person off their game. I want to be remembered. Now that I finally have taken that scary step of purchasing business cards, I can use them instead of my one-liner. For me it really depends on the person and my mood, but it usually leaves a random individual laughing. So I’ve decided to continue to drop the line.<br />
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These days you have to have a battle plan, a course of action to get remembered. If you have goals of selling your body, er, uh body of work, yeah that’s it, to other people get your hustle on. It is part luck, right place, right time, right person to help you achieve the next level in your climb to fame and money. In my case, current high priority goal? New York Times Best Selling Author. My day to day troubles are I’m trying to make it to tomorrow.<br />
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As far as I can tell, most people prefer to accept cold hard cash in exchange for things like a roof over my head, food, hot water, etc. As the saying goes, “In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash”. In other words, some days I have to be a responsible adult. Dammit! Adulting sucks, but it’s the way the world works for me so far. I also pray on my desires, push my intentions out to the universe and hope for the best outcome. Or, I thank Goddess I’m an Atheist and keep it moving forward. You know me my loyal 8 followers, I love to cover all bets. Speaking of gambling, just so ya know, as a babygirl who loves her mocha/caramel skin tone, I always bet on Black to win.<br />
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I mean yeah, I could bitch and moan about being a member of the born a Black Woman Club. Hey, I didn't pick it! That was on my parents and my mom's choice to have me as a parasite on her body for 9 long months. My bio-dad had other ideas as to how my mom became pregnant, apparently he missed Sex Ed that day when he attended school. I heard a rumor from my favorite Auntie that a bed was broken the night of my creation. She was quite pissed about it because it was in her guest room at the time.<br />
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My ethnic ancestry has shown throughout history people of color, especially the ladies haven’t always been treated the best by other human beings. Or I can use these documented injustices to fuel my creative passions. I count myself lucky to not have experienced rape and I can relate to men/women who have been a victim of that crime. So I write about it.<br />
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Personally, I narrowly escaped that same fate at 7 years old right before I learned to fight back against my abusers. I had no choice but to stop the sexual violence in my life. I chose to believe the rumor that most pedophiles don’t survive long in the prison system. I’ve recently changed my thinkin’ on this topic which I will address in my next blog post, working title. You Drank What? How I Found My Sexual Power! Through my writing I’m a champion of my causes. I tackle the abuses of black women first, but I hope that my words apply and help victims in general.<br />
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Personally, I try to take full responsibility for my actions, even when caught doing something authority figures deem bad, naughty, wrong. Oh my, a spanking? “Yes, please and thank you! May I have another?” my inner drunken babygirl answers a little too loudly. Fortunately/unfortunately for me this is the only way I know to be the best me I can be.<br />
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Other than Putt-Putt Golf I have no interest in golfing. I played the <a href="http://www.pogo.com/">www.pogo.com</a> version for awhile but mostly I find that game boring as all get out. Yes I think Tiger Woods is nice to look at, but unfortunately for him my bio dad thought Tiger was an ideal life mate for me. That means he has never been on my ‘Celebrities 2 Fuck’ list. If that wasn’t enough, Tiger’s reported treatment of his romantic partners sent him to the ‘No Chance Ever’ list with a quickness.<br />
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I drive a Ford truck for its symbolism to me. 'Fix Or Repair Daily' is sometimes suggested as an acronym for these car makers, for me, I prefer the slogan 'Built Ford Tough'. That’s the thing about good marketing. It’s why I continue to be a proud Ford Truck owner. Dante 2 and I have been rolling around the US for over 10 years now. For about 8 months he was the only home I owned. Dante the sequel has proven himself dependable except for the need to replace the battery from time to time. He pimps The Devil’s Panties with 2 bumper sticks, “Being silly keeps me sane!” and “Time is like a zombie. It moves slow, but all of a sudden 'Boo! Got your brains!'”<br />
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If you live in the Portland, OR area you may have seen Jennie’s car. It is covered in fun quote bumper sticks and has a beautiful octopus trying to eat it. She’s a valuable resource in my life on the how-to self-pimpin’/market your artwork. I check her out daily as a matter of ritual and have even purchased her work. Though a perk of our friendship is I used to get free swag all the time. Her heterosexual life mate, er husband, <a href="https://twitter.com/obbybreeden">Obby</a> did the modern day version of networking to job search. Instead of heading to a golf course, he’s a gamer.<br />
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Traditionally business/professional men and thanks to the Suffrage Movement of the 1920s women head to a golf course to discuss business. It allows for privacy and they use 18 holes to decide the fate of a company, patient, client, even criminal. This is what I refer to as 'White Male Thinkin'' process of how-to conduct business deals or the Baby Boomer Generation way. It’s old school, setting up people of privilege to succeed through antiquated abuse of power practices. In other words for the longest time over here in the grand ol' US, Caucasians stacked the deck in their favor turning the other 98% of US citizens into virtual slaves. I thank Goddess this is becoming obsolete in modern society. Ease of access to a PC, tablet, or smart phone means the average or even poor individuals in my country can break the glass ceiling and skyrocket to super stardom. Even lil old, er, I mean, young at heart me.<br />
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Today everyone has an opportunity to have their voices heard. The only problem, how do you make your one little voice heard among 7 billion others? Wake up to the world and necessity of social marketing. It gives me way more opportunities to get my message out there in the world.<br />
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So here’s me, marketing, er, uh, pimpin’ like a gangsta my product, building my platform, sharing my experiences and making my voice count among the myriad of other voices in this world. I’m hoping you love what I have to say, that my message resonates with you. I want what I have to say to help someone, somewhere with their day.<br />
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If you don’t like my message, I ain’t mad at ya. Please let me know if you’re brave enough to challenge me. And I’d rather you not hide behind an Anonymous button when you do. Okay? Cuz you my friend could end up blog fodder or even the basis for one of my fictional characters. BTW I dare ya to try to prove I’m talking about your dumb, I mean, er uninformed ass. At current, I’d gain a story to tell, but as my butt remains poor, bring it on!Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-83784866289588827032016-01-02T18:16:00.001-08:002016-01-02T22:12:07.568-08:00Confuse Connie Continuation Considerations...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Gill Sans MT"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The writer/Muse inside me is always willing to explore the dark, twisted, and shall I say demon
side. What can I say, I consider this my day/night job currently. Through my writing this occasionally manifests in weird, sometimes embarrassing
ways. It is my intention that something I write whether it's a story or blog post will help someone else. Enter the second part to <i><a href="https://www.literotica.com/s/confused-connie-2" target="_blank">Confused Connie</a></i> or as it was originally titled, <i>Confused
Connie Again (CCA)</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I sat down
to edit and repost this story. It was the game plan set forth in my<a href="http://www.simonelisbon.com/2015/10/my-family-my-lovers.html" target="_blank"> last post</a> and boom, it's a (mind)field. I stopped reading, closed it and decided to
process my reaction instead. So today I decided to prepare my Muse for
demon psyche battle. I made a cup of coffee, started writing, stopped, played a game
on my phone, took a shower and started my day again with a new cup of coffee
and my go-to reading for inspiration.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Gill Sans MT"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">As I mentioned in my last post incest is a taboo topic that I chose to tackle. I
posted <i>Confused Connie</i> to Literotica
back when I first wrote it. At the time I had some real world issues I was
working through with my alcoholic father along with a few other life depressors like unemployment. I hadn’t written <i>Forced to Change.</i> Back in 2010 I’d never thought about publishers
let alone known any might one day be interested in my work. So as I mentioned earlier I pulled the story down when I saw an opportunity to transition </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">my art, er, uh writing to mainstream. </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">A chance to finally beat down the unemployment factor that was still playing a vicious role in my life and decision making?</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Yeah! Woo Hoo!</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Three months ago my publishers and I parted ways.</span><i style="font-family: inherit;"> Oh nuts, here we go again. </i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I said,
about a month ago I started rereading </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">CCA </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">a</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">nd I stopped. I have some weird feelings about the writing today, mostly it is
not who I am as a writer, storyteller, or even person now. So I can’t
decide if I should or more importantly can repost the follow up piece. When I
compare and contrast who I am today versus who I was four years ago there are
huge differences. I attacked different subject matter, processing my then current
issues. This is the challenge of an artist’s Muse. Mine, silly one that she is, freely
admits she is dark, twisted, and an undercover sadist in comparison to my being a full
blown masochist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My
hesitations are about the fact that I am forcing myself to revisit some old
wounds in my life. The masochist in me prefers pain spiked with pleasure and this is more pain than anything else. To work on this story I must face wounds which I have closed and healed. For the most part I enjoy writing and never know where it will take me. It is one of my main goals for my life to use my work to do some self-work as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
I use my writing as
personal therapy. That inner work on self is usually reflected in my newer
projects. Unfortunately my decision to repost my incest pieces has made me acutely aware of these old scars. So the challenge I’ve inadvertently set
forth for myself is to take a long hard look at an old battlefield with new
eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Gill Sans MT"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Add to
this problem, I stumbled onto Literotica at a time in my life when my target
audience changed. I sought out (Dirty Old Men) DOMs to view my work instead of my trusted friends and family members. Strangers instead of people who know me well. Now that I’m working on the finishing touches to <i>FTC</i> my circle of peeps know how to find my work too. Also the realist in me has hopes of publishing and marketing <i>FTC</i> to yet another type of audience. So I have to ask
myself the question 'is this something I really want to explore and expose
about myself as a writer'. The situation with my now ex-publishers suggests it
is not a good way to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Gill Sans MT"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This line of thinking may or may not be a good idea as it pertains to marketing to a mass market with the hopes of mass appeal too. I promised
myself to be more honest with myself about six months ago. If I really want the advantage of being
more truthful with myself, the knowledge I’ve gained from processing my demons
and baggage for the sake of my writing I do need to finish what I’ve started.
It isn’t always easy to go over painful events from my past, but processing and
writing them down is self-work that I recognize as a major improvement to my
own creative. I was inspired to this course of action as I mentioned in the following <a href="http://www.simonelisbon.com/2015/09/new-to-me-author-anne-bishopthe-black.html" target="_blank">post</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Okay, so
since I’m set with my intentions by this blog post. I’ll let you, my dear readers know how it
goes by the end of the month. I’m going to pray on it and hope it is the
benefit I believe it can be to my writing. If not, comfort food and TV
marathons are in my future, while I process the </span>need for another plan of attack for my inner demons, er, I mean my writing.</div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-8991961510871656902015-10-15T09:26:00.000-07:002016-01-02T17:35:29.083-08:00My Family, My Lovers...<div class="MsoNormal">
You may or may not have noticed my
publishers and I parted ways. It was on friendly terms. I read in their
contract that I signed that incest was not something they were interested in
publishing. That's the way I remember it today, but I could re-read the contract to be sure. See, I always had in the back of my mind, <i><a href="http://www.completevca.com/library.shtml" target="_blank">VC Andrews</a></i>. She was a best selling
author in 1980’s and it was her tool box. She wrote the same story over and
over with the exact same theme in all her books, INCEST. <i>Flowers in the Attic </i>told it best for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If OmniFic’s position is not to publish family
members bumping uglies, well, I need publishers who are willing to put the
family lovin’ business out there. Period. It was the missing element to <i>Forced to Change </i>that tied the story up
and helped it right,write itself. Once I added that element into the story, it
finished telling me where it wanted to go. Just that easy, my head had the
answer to what was wrong with my novel and why it refused to feel finished. I
couldn’t write an ending that didn’t include that aspect to the storyline. So,
now that I’m staring at less than a weeks worth of rewrites and desiring using
NaNo this year to flush out the 2<sup>nd</sup> book in the series, <i>Changed by Time,</i> I’m goal-oriented with
a full plate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I first got into <i><a href="http://www.literotica.com/" target="_blank">Literotica</a></i> because incest/taboo was the most read category there. All
the authors I follow have their reasons, but as the #1 read category, I needed to
crack that code. I tried my hand at it, but I couldn’t get a ‘h’ rating for my
attempts. Though the reviews were good, when my publishers suggested it wasn’t
their style, I adjusted. I pulled down my incest stories from Lit. I see that as a
mistake now that I’m correcting. So, that’s why the rights to <i>FTC</i> reverted back to me. No hard feelings. When my needs change, so do my working-on goals. Duh, that’s how my life
works.<o:p></o:p><br />
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See, my #1 what if question is 'could having sex with my father have saved his life'? But according to the rules I grew up with, he was off limits as a lover. He was always married. I try hard not to disrespect other women, even one's I barely know. In my mind I passed on the opportunity to bed Peter 'MADE MY PANTIES WET' Steele with a note played on his instrument, a single word from his lips because a girl told me she fucked him the day before I met him (work with me here, in my fantasy, I had a shot). She was funny and beautiful for the twenty minutes we discussed her previous evening activities.<br />
<br />
I learned the hard way that it ended friendships I valued to go after another woman's man. So my motto became 'PROS before Bros' IE, LADIES FIRST! Ain't nothing wrong with a PROfessional Sex Worker in my book, I pick up tips from them. The fact that my Sperm Donor wished I'd been an abortion and decided to let me know that information because of his addiction made me who I am today. What he ENJOYED, I HATED on principal from that day forward. What he FEARED I tried, including dating white men exclusively most of the time, especially a white cop. My Bio-dad once said, "No WHITE COP babies!" to me while I was dating one...<br />
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I respected my mother's fear of pregnancy before I found my way in the world. So I gave him that one. No babies, until I figured my shit out. Condoms. The Pill. And I knew in my heart if I accidentally got pregnant I was keeping the baby. In the meantime, I mothered animals and became friends with a lot of women who decided to step up for the job motherhood. I am PRO-CHOICE & PRO-LIFE at the same time. I only argued the point with my bio dad because he claimed to be PRO-LIFE while making all the kinds of choices that put him in a grave at 64 years of age. </div>
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So Confused Connie is back up on Literotica once again. There are 2 follow-up chapters but it will take some time to get them all posted again. Bare with me, I'm also close to the finish line on FTC and working on getting that published in the coming year. My goals are set, but adjustable for life. Cuz my personal truth happens to be when I play architect in my life, Goddess laughs and sets a different obstacle (life lesson) in my divine path...</div>
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Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-50149489240839205962015-10-01T16:16:00.001-07:002015-11-13T01:19:08.018-08:00A Homicidal Maniac Who Rapes Dead Babies Might Live Next Door To You<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know one lives across the street from me. How do I know? A successful author of horror writing lives across the street from me. As far as I know when she feels homicidal she writes. It’s one of the few things I know about my neighbor I’ve never met. She’s published and she earns her living with her work. I rarely see her, though I’ve seen her husband weekly take their garbage cans down to the curb. I respect her privacy and can only divine things about her that she puts out into the world, IE, I’ve read her work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I find that most authors of the horror genre are homicidal maniacs. The only difference I see between a horror writer and a serial killer is one lets their thoughts play out on the page while the other takes their thoughts out into the world and plays them out in real flesh. As I watched the news earlier today of the school shooting in Oregon, it was painfully clear to me the shooter did not know this difference. Or maybe they did and didn't mind the consequences of their actions. I prefer not to pay those kind of consequences for my actions. My thoughts and prayers are with all those affected by this person’s choice of action.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I guess that’s the dividing line between most writers and those in prison or loose on the streets acting out their thoughts in the real world to me. I do what I consider illegal all the time. One of the main character’s in my book, <i>Forced to Change</i> is an assassin. Jared gets paid, very well in fact, to go around the world killing people I don’t like. He really enjoys his job. Especially when his targets are homicidal sadistic rapists. That’s his version of Christmas wrapped up in an assignment. He won’t even take money to kill them, he does it for free.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Personally, I’m a big fan of freedom. Being locked away in prison would be a suffocating experience for me. I avoid it by walking the line of man’s laws and staying on the side that keeps my black ass out of jail. As of today I’m legally allowed to smoke weed. I can light up a joint in the state of Oregon and smoke that sucker down to a roach. I won’t say whether or not I did so before it was legal because I believe my joy over this new law explains that perfectly. For the sake of keeping my beautiful black booty out of jail, I only wrote about puff, puff, passing the chronic prior to today.</span><br />
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Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-67638760170007164932015-09-19T17:31:00.000-07:002015-09-27T13:39:55.822-07:00Death of The Starving Writer/Birth of The Satisfied StoryTeller...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe you noticed or maybe not that I’ve changed
my label from Starving Writer to Satisfied StoryTeller. At around 200 lbs. I’ve
never actually starved for my art. Almost, there was a time I was forced onto a
Ramen Noodle diet due to my budget. Though, I ate everyday even when life was suckage and
the only roof over my head was that of my truck, Dante 2. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So why would I consider myself Starving at a time
in my life I wasn’t starving for food? Well, I was starved for something else.
Inspiration, motivation, love, Goddess. I was cut off from the bounty that is the Divine
Design in my life. I was unsure of my every step. Failing at the highest level
for what I thought was how my life should work. I was suffering from depression
and an inability to see how much better my life could be if I, the Sleeping Beauty
of my life could just wake up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently, I fully woke up. I’ve done so every
once and a while over the years, but today I can say I’m completely awake, finally. I’m Satisfied
with my life. I’m satisfied with the person I am today. I know what I want to
do for a living, writing full-time, and how to accomplish that goal. I have a
roof over my head and food in my fridge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m happy, content. I have goals and I’m working
toward them. I have everything I need and more than I could possibly want. So
the time to change my title has come. I’m no longer starving, I am Satisfied.
So if you see the ‘starving writer’ label somewhere connected to me, let me
know. Thanks my loyal 8 followers. Much appreciated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Simone<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">PS. New Literotica story up...<a href="https://www.literotica.com/s/goddess-simone-and-you" target="_blank">Goddess, Simone & YOU</a></span></div>
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Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-27804217199157222652015-09-11T07:50:00.000-07:002015-09-11T07:50:08.517-07:00New To Me Author: Anne Bishop/The Black Jewels Trilogy<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay, I was on a mission of new reading material. I’d
been depressed about my own writing and unable to finish the rewrites to <i>Forced To Change</i> to my satisfaction
since some time last year. Something was missing and I had no idea what. Turns
out my Muse was starving for a new way of addressing personal issues in my own
writing... Then along came <a href="http://www.annebishop.com/a.black.jewels.html" target="_blank">Anne Bishop’s </a><i><a href="http://www.annebishop.com/a.black.jewels.html" target="_blank">Black Jewels Trilogy</a>...</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My CB shared his diverse library via kindle, a few
paperbacks, etc. I read Kelly Armstrong and Patricia Briggs because another
friend said they really enjoyed those authors, and I agreed, the stories and
writing are strong with these ladies if fantasy is your genre. Then I pulled up
the paperback copy of <i>Daughter of the
Blood</i> the first book in the series, though not the first story available. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My Muse perked up. The theme throughout these
fantasy novels dealt directly with sexual abuse experienced by a child? Well, I’d
always been leery of attacking my issues directly, my own experiences were too explict
for Literotica, so I changed the crime to rape and the victim to an over the
age of 18 when her abuse started. The<i> Black
Jewel </i>novels not only went straight at the abuse inflicted at the age I
personally dealt with it, but also the story world was so full and vibrantly
painted, the other themes perfectly set out, that I enjoyed the reading of all
three books within a week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every part of the stories resonated with not only
me, but my Muse planned a course of attack for my own writing and presented a
full picture I was able to outline and work with to start finishing the
rewrites on <i>Forced to Change</i>. Plus, I
was able to outline mentally the second book, working title, <i>Changed by Time</i>. Also I even have a
specific for Lit short story in the works to flush out when I need time to
process on my other projects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Anne Bishop’s writing works for me, even though the
themes are a bit taboo, the wealth of possibilities in how to be vulnerable and
open enough with my pen, is a door unlocked by discovering these novels. So, if
you’re looking for a rich story world, filled with amazing well developed
characters, interesting takes on Living, Death, Abuse, with gripping emotional
story Telling, then Anne Bishop’s <i>Black
Jewels Trilogy</i> might be a story worth reading to you...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-35821658845008623002014-01-15T14:19:00.001-08:002014-01-21T15:10:26.977-08:00What Do You Mean I’m Not Perfect?<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Recently (the last few years) I
decided not to leave this world with regrets. So when asked or even when not
asked I say, “I have no regrets.” I tend to follow that statement up with how I
plan to leave this world, ‘surrounded by a rainbow of beautiful men and a few
choice women’. It’s true. In addition to having no regrets it means I had to
accept that I’m not perfect. This was really difficult for the control
freak/perfectionist in me. <i>What do you mean I not only make mistakes, but will
continue to make mistakes? </i>Yes, you make mistakes, Simone. <i>Not me, I’m perfect.
</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Part of the game plan on
leaving the world without a single regret means admitting that I make mistakes
and accepting that I will continue to make mistakes. That I will and have had
major failures in my life. When I make a mistake I forgive myself for doing so,
because I’m a human being. I’m not a goddess, all-knowing and powerful. I could
throw hours of a good pity party and feel sorry for myself or I can correct the
error as quickly as possible and keep moving forward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When I linger on my past
mistakes over and over again, this causes depression and low feelings about
myself. It’s a very passive way to live and not very healthy. Coming to
acceptance that yes, I do make mistakes, gives me choices about how to handle
the situation better. For example, I grew up hearing that God doesn’t give me
more than I can handle. What I’ve learned from that is not only is it usually
something that I can handle, but I’ll keep dealing with the same issue again and
again until I learn the lesson from it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Basically, it’s how I avoid
insanity, which I define as doing the same thing over and over expecting
different results. When a pattern starts to repeat in my life, dysfunctional
relationships, bad living situations, crazy ass bosses who work my last nerve,
the common denominator every time is me. I’m the only one who can change. I
have to stop reacting to the situation and start responding to it. Taking a
moment to recognize that pattern and decide that if I want a different result, I
must do something different than what I’ve always done in the past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sometimes it sounds like
personal growth is easy for me. It’s hell. It’s hard work. When I was younger I
learned various reactions to the myriad of situations life handed me. I
developed an instinctual way to solve each problem. Even when the consequence
wasn’t something I wanted. It was easier to blame things outside of me. I think
that’s the nature of the American culture. I grew up hearing that if someone
wronged me, sue them, which reinforced the thinking that nothing was my fault.
What makes it difficult for me to accept my mistakes is because I didn’t want
them to be mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">They are my mistakes. Mine all
mine. Sad, but true. So it becomes a thing of how do I break a bad habit in my
life? Recently I read that breaking a habit is a very difficult thing to do,
much harder than I grew up believing. When I was younger I heard it takes 21
days to develop a new habit, turns out it takes 66 days. <i>Three times as much
time? Triple the dauntingness plus three days!</i> Then add to that my mind is
precondition to reward myself (IE: it’s okay to do the bad habit) because I
started the good habit and therefore I defeat the good habit I’m trying to
instill in myself. Yikes. Let the vicious cycle begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It is hard to stop rewarding
myself for doing the good by going back to an old familiar habit. My mind
rationalizes it though. If I go for a two and half mile walk, I cannot have the
slice of cheesecake or pint of ice cream at that point. If I write 2500 words
in a day, I can’t take the next day off to watch a TV marathon. Doing the
instant rewards sets me back to zero, immediately. They are mistakes. That’s
not to say that I won’t make them, but I know that it defeats my chances of successfully
building a good habit. Especially when the reward I’d like is a little more
long term, like fitting into a smaller size pair of jeans or finishing the
first draft on a novel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The smaller, bad habit rewards
aren’t the true goal for me. So a sacrifice has to be made and eventually I can
and do get to the bigger more rewarding consequences. It becomes a matter of
convincing my head that it’s worth it because in the end, I'm worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-70692084131393013562013-12-20T14:14:00.001-08:002013-12-20T14:14:26.035-08:00Merry Christmas Tree…What Does Christmas Mean To Me? <div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some years I’m all Scrooge, “Bah Humbug!” and what have you. I refuse to be touched by the holiday season for any reason. I get angry seeing Christmas displays up one day after Halloween. Personally, I’m not a shopper. I hate shopping. I hate parting with a penny for any reason. I grew up frugal with a mother who had beer money and champagne tastes but made that work for us. My mother taught me to buy quality over status and to bargain shop for things needed over what is wanted. As a result I still practice these habits today.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-675b3d4f-1207-0f2e-5ead-e5babf0dbae1" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Clothes, well, when I purchase clothing I look for things that will last for years. I’m the same with shoes. I don’t wear jewelry, except earrings from time to time. For the most part I live pretty minimalistic. My worldly possessions would have fit in the bed of my truck when I got ready to move. I only used the trailer so I didn’t have to unpack my truck every night while I was driving across the country.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once upon a time the holiday season was all about family. For me that meant my mother and I. We had our traditions that we cultivated over the years. When she was with my father and stepfather this meant extended family, cousins, grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc. When I was younger I bounced back and forth one year with mom, one year with bio dad, splitting Thanksgiving, Christmas, Spring Break, and Summer vacation. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My favorite aunt loves to remind me of the Christmas I asked for a walkie-talkie. I asked my mom, my dad, and her for the toy. It was all I really wanted. My best friend lived across the street from me and we figured that way we could chat at night. So I wanted one. I got three sets that year. The nicest part, they all worked together so guess who was able to hook up the entire neighborhood with them? Me.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The year I begged for a CD player for Christmas I only got one from my father. My family had learned how to divide and conquer my Christmas wish. Anyway, I got CDs from the rest of the family and my friends so I knew a CD player would be under the tree. Only my father left it in the trunk of his car making it the last gift I received. So after opening a pile of CDs with no more presents under the tree, I knew one was on its way. He kept up the charade trying to convince me he hadn’t bought me one. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wasn’t fooled. He swore up and down for about twenty minutes that he didn’t buy one. I was like sure, right, whatever. Finally he fished the CD player out of his trunk and gave it to me while calling me ungrateful. I was about as grateful as a teenager could be for an expected gift, not so much, but just enough. He’d wanted to surprise me, only he always bought me what I wanted for Christmas, so really where was the surprise?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That also happened to be the first Christmas to follow when I stopped speaking to him for the first time. I chose to stop speaking with him for four years after he’d told me he wished I’d been an abortion. My father was an alcoholic, only I didn’t realize it at the time. He appeared quite successful despite his illness. He was a very proud man who felt he didn’t have a problem. I once told my father he was the most functional alcoholic I knew. He heard ‘functional’ and assumed it was a compliment. I meant ‘alcoholic’ and wished he’d obtained help for it before it killed him.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I didn’t spend many Christmas’s with him after that one. The argument that resulted from whether or not I was grateful for the gift left a bad taste and impression on me so after that, I spent the holidays with my mother until her death.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother and I did sushi for Thanksgiving and cornish hens for Christmas. Turkeys meant leftovers for weeks and unless we spent the holiday with friends, it was just too much work. I could cook some things but it wasn’t like we needed that much food which we would have wasted anyway. My mother and I eventually got into a few habits, traditions as a result. We’d go see a movie after eating and spending the day together. We didn’t exchange gifts. We just hung out and enjoyed the time off together. That was it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After her death I had a hard time celebrating the holidays. Sometimes I’d go over to a friend of my mother’s house, but nothing replaced our special time together. Eventually I was just too depressed to do much around that time of year. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, I don’t look forward to the holidays, at least not to the degree I did as a kid. The magic of the holiday season has been missing from my life for quite awhile. I get depressed when they are coming around and spend a lot of time writing, missing my mother, and now missing my father, too. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My father passed away December a few years ago. At the time we weren’t on speaking terms again. His alcoholism killed him and damaged our relationship beyond repair. I’m grateful that I chose to visit him when I knew he was about to die and we did have a forgiveness conversation the day before he died.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I guess what I need to do is start a new tradition this time of year. One that doesn’t include so much mourning of my past. Letting it go and letting the promise of a new year be the key to moving past my depression and into a new course for being the best me I can be. It’s great in theory, but how do I practice such a thing and break a bad/not good for me habit?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First off, I moved across the country this year. I’m in a new place mentally and physically in my life. So I guess that’s a huge stepping stone to changing my habits for the holidays. I’m trying to see things a bit different than I did in prior years. So hopefully this year won’t be so much about mourning and all Bah Humbug as much as what’s new. I can’t wait to see what will happen next. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Merry Christmas Tree and may the best of my past be the worst of my future...</span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-62538673892259187872013-12-06T15:17:00.000-08:002013-12-06T15:17:06.264-08:00Season Changes, Changes of Scenery <div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Roadtrip from Atlanta, GA to Eugene, OR recap...Well, I only had to back up with a trailer once, not including the time my uncle did it for me and the time I had to be pulled out of the dirt. Speaking of the time I had to be pulled out of the dirt, that was the big bad that happened on my trip. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-29b75bf4-ca1a-75e2-5def-c3c8dc18fdf9" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="239" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/6n58erXwswkS16LGikDqpPUKPb_lKeENpy6myHBb53GYoUsPNSzGWi7NZZ2X9is2tcUUpTYs_eQKLCxIrTXRz0SYRQ-R0gto9CqSC5CwxzVE4wqKMb9bsp8nnw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stuck In The Dirt, Navajo, AZ</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-29b75bf4-ca1a-75e2-5def-c3c8dc18fdf9" style="font-weight: normal;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-29b75bf4-ca1a-75e2-5def-c3c8dc18fdf9"></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-29b75bf4-ca1a-75e2-5def-c3c8dc18fdf9" style="font-weight: normal;"><span><br /></span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-29b75bf4-ca1a-75e2-5def-c3c8dc18fdf9" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cost to me, $60.00 for the tow. I stupidly decided to drive on a primitive road clearly marked as one that I decided ‘Well, this looks like a good place to turn around.’ I was wrong and finally after a half an hour of trying to dig myself out with a cake pan, er, bread pan, I called the police. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My cousin recommended I get AAA before I started the trip. It wasn’t in my budget so I skipped that oh so responsible step. See, Dante 2 had brand new tires (all four replaced in the last year), a tune-up, oil change, and 60,000 mile inspection before I left Atlanta. At 10 years old I was pretty certain that car trouble wouldn’t be an issue for me on the road.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="239" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/zD-QwmNnnbOmuK_fCGTOXVEKPplwDM1OOxZwi0_CxQs2-Ca7heUtfuKDGFHlJJfl1ssluruEBqgznETyPl15BO-i7yxxWtZFBa5D_e_A9t0WZplGkjIZpgK94g" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Memphis Hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I also got pulled over by a cop just outside of Memphis, TN my first night out. She was extremely nice and wished me well. The cops I spoke with in Navajo, AZ while stuck in the too soft dirt hoped that that incident would be the worst part of my trip. So yeah, I had a lot of positive experiences with the local law enforcement on my way to Eugene, OR. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="239" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/Znob1MPQTg7lRcELuNx_dgYscp76YrJTX78zOR0sgF-sJBxTuQRi67fCyLyAX2y-S5LM31ogr5xtjzcjUWugRueiLQczTF1jlYhL8hIjfcNrKOPdMbkHNc9uZw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I-40, No Idea Where Though</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The majority of my trip looked like the above picture. Every single day, this was my view. I tried to take a picture when I thought about it. Weather wise, not too bad, I drove in snow for a total of one hour on my way to Kingman, AZ. I spent a night in a KOA cabin, that was fun. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="239" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/mugGjczdpOgB6ywwk9eVYzlTrmWH2rVK9Ts313_hxoddQ3cCA2JF8xZ_F0AujQoS23AQpW0An4StDvks7UESmvSEB4_etNx9eWahDcnWg74Edkb6P3heSHcF6A" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So yeah, I got my cabin in the woods experience. Woo hoo! There’s one not too far from here so I may try it again one day. I opted for hotel rooms after that though. New Mexico had interesting overpasses. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="239" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/BHJUCPn51w-EdKRiQrUA618pX9KeXPy-PoupNOdp8dUoL7_pRvTW2S_QXuLjR06Nkh3kwrpqB7RzWSOkmtw5t3srsbc_KYxLcIoYemJ3BkdYjqmBLLuP83MjPg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I-40 New Mexico</td></tr>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyway, overall the trip was good, Nike was awesome and she doesn't hate me at all. I gave her lots of cat treats to win her favor along the way a suggestion I found on Google. I decompressed for about 24 hours and then busted my butt for the next 48 to finish off my piece for NaNo. All and all, November was a very productive month for me.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWGrc0LZfWPKBJ80M-IH1_kPkq-v-HL6OHsXVPmvz3MFS6fkkUHjEunUVI26gZS1yDp28QiOpA6WVlCoQ-bjNlny6_LSfL9M_M0kVSD4aMBfv_wy-IkIV9Sg5QvgbQEI0ItVecQglJvw2/s1600/Winner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWGrc0LZfWPKBJ80M-IH1_kPkq-v-HL6OHsXVPmvz3MFS6fkkUHjEunUVI26gZS1yDp28QiOpA6WVlCoQ-bjNlny6_LSfL9M_M0kVSD4aMBfv_wy-IkIV9Sg5QvgbQEI0ItVecQglJvw2/s320/Winner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No, I did not write the story I meant to write on the NaNo piece. I did finish 50,000 words on it, 50,184 to be exact. I did a lot of character development and pictured the ending which had been eluding me since its start. Overall, I’m proud of these two accomplishments and I can’t wait to see what the next year of my life brings as far as challenges and adventures. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now off to watch another </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Doctor Who</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> special I missed while I didn’t have cable. Well, er, because I can. Duh!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Update: The morning view this AM was: </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzzjov0XT97M7dG41ggJTy_Pj_Sqwz088Fgr5bmwwDrHxVKn46MriJQ7-PazgkiUMTAGKBvr4p4v-rdzyTOBYKgA4j6Vp1PX6MV9AHKyHy4An9LR2B1nhD8ryJ6-cUaUGhzAWp5Q88-do/s1600/100_3145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzzjov0XT97M7dG41ggJTy_Pj_Sqwz088Fgr5bmwwDrHxVKn46MriJQ7-PazgkiUMTAGKBvr4p4v-rdzyTOBYKgA4j6Vp1PX6MV9AHKyHy4An9LR2B1nhD8ryJ6-cUaUGhzAWp5Q88-do/s320/100_3145.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eugene, OR</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I may need to rethink this entire move. Snow! I don't like snow...Burrrrrrrrrrrrrr....</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-13548178951656584542013-11-17T17:50:00.000-08:002013-11-17T17:50:23.161-08:00Driving Across The Country For No Reason...<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Okay, maybe there is a reason. I decided to move to Oregon. Next week. For no other reason than the fact that I can. Soooo, I’ll probably take a break from getting blog posts done. Eventually I hope, I’ll make it to Oregon in Dante 2. I hope that the trip goes well. I pray the fact that I’ve never hauled a trailer before won’t be an issue and that I’ll remember to always park in a way that I don’t have to figure out the major challenge of backing up with a trailer. I can only pray that my bumper isn’t pulled loose. I hope my cat won’t hate me by the end of the trip. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-6264c375-68e2-d985-ffe1-f19e727b259d" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are so many things to worry about and yet, I’m not worried. Not really. I’m excited for the next. This adventure that is my life just continues on. I can plan to do many things, try to prepare in the best way possible, but until I’m actually out the door and on my way, I have no idea what will happen. That’s the way all things are though, although I sometimes forget that part. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My characters, some of them get to see into the future. Not me. I’ve never claimed to be clairvoyant in any way, shape, or form. I bet that talent would come in handy. Anyway, I just can’t say what will happen tomorrow or next week without actually doing it. The trip could go like all amazing and beyond wonderful. Or even though all four tires are new and I had my truck inspected and did a tune-up and oil change and even got him washed, it could break down. I might lose the trailer, my cat could run away in Texas, and I could catch a fleshing eating bacteria sleeping in one of the shady motels because it’s cheap.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe I’ll meet Prince or Princess Charming and end up moving to London and living in a castle while traveling the world and being pampered like a princess. That would be cool. I could win the lottery, probably not because I don’t play, but hey, weirder stuff has happened, to someone, somewhere, I’m sure.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just don’t know because none of it has happened yet. I’m hopeful, excited and listening to Ani’s song Anticipate a lot lately. That’s it. I’m hoping for the best and prepared for the worst. Even if parts go bad, like really, really bad, well, at least I’ll have an interesting story to tell. I’ll try to take lots of pictures when I think of it. I’ll post next month once I’m settled in. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-49793521805913546882013-11-08T18:46:00.000-08:002013-11-08T18:46:27.124-08:00Bumping Uglies Used To Sell, Now It’s Abuse & Dysfunction<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, I read all three of the books I shall not name (there’s a blog post about that). I read the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twilight</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> books. I want to write a best-selling novel, so I read a lot. I read what sells in hopes of figuring out what appeals to a mass market on a grand scale. I freely admit that is my goal. I also watch an insane amount of television. I go to the movies by myself a lot too. I listen to a ton of music, and not just heavy metal or folksingers, but every type of music. I love the stories, I love the beats. That form of storytelling is two-sided, music and words, they both evoke emotions. Some days I consider myself an observer of human nature. I create characters in my head to work through my own demons. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rising From The Fire</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a story that was born from attending Catholic school from first through fifth grade.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(The entire time) I struggled with religion versus spirituality. My mother was married to an abusive man, my stepfather,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and he was a deacon in a Lutheran church. He would drag me with him every Sunday morning. So I was bombarded on both sides by religion. Eventually my mother opted out of church attendance. As my mother’s child I was also given a reprieve. That still left sch</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ool</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> where ever</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">y time I read passages from the bible, I found the entire thing confusing from the language to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the stories. Add to that</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> those bits in conflict with the bible</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and my stepfather’s actions caused me to seek my spiritual guidance elsewhere</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Personally, I felt God had a lot of explaining to do while I was growing up. What kind of God allows sexual abuse of a three year old? Or lets a teacher’s entire family die in a fire? Those answers were in no bible I ever read. Growing up was hard, scary, and lonely. I had no siblings, and there was a time when my relationship with my mother hadn’t quite hit the level of friendship we shared toward the end of her life.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As much as I loved my mother, when I was younger spanking was an acceptable form of punishment in our home. As I got older there were times when it turned into physical abuse. Again, I had times where I got contradictory messages. I wasn’t allowed to be physically abusive, yet I was abused in my home. This is why I struggled with my temper and anger, and</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sought out abusive and dysfunctional relationships as a young adult.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took two years after my mother divorced my stepfather, for me to do something to break the cycle of abuse in our relationship. The catalyst of the final physical fight I had with my mother was when she hit me with a broom for refusing to take out the garbage. I refused because I was in my underwear. She demanded I do it immediately before going to bed. I yelled I would get up early enough to do it in the morning, but since I was supposed to do it the night before and she was angry about something else, that fight happened instead. The night after my mother threw me out of the house in my underwear for an hour, I went to my school counselor and reported the incident.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made the choice to seek help for what was happening in my home because of what happened between my mother and stepfather. At the time I don’t think she could see that I was in a similar situation, and although the movie </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Irreconcilable Differences</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> opened the idea to me of a kid divorcing their parents, I didn’t feel that was an option for me at the age twelve. We entered therapy together, and separately after my school brought my mother in for a conference.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother grew up in a physically abusive household, just as I assume her parents did, and so on and so forth. I heard story after story from my aunts and uncles on my mother’s side, about how their mother would discipline them. A well thrown wooden spoon incident created a lifelong scar between my uncle’s toes; he’d snuck a peek at what was in the pot for dinner. The burn marks on my aunt’s upper arm by a fresh off the stove hot comb</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">from when she wouldn’t sit still to get her hair straightened</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> All I could think after hearing these</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">stories for the first time was I was okay with the fact that my grandmother had passed before I met her.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think I had a fear I would abuse a child and that is a huge part of why kids ain’t for me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t, but this way I’ve never had to test the theory out. I’ve had enough therapy, and Nike, my cat, who I love and adore. Nike is not declawed. Even when she scratches me or hates on me for turning over when she was so comfortably resting on my leg, I do not abuse her. I love her so much that there’s nothing she can do to make me angry. Sure she annoys me, or amuses me, but she never does anything to spark a feeling of anger. I guess that’s the biggest difference between a mostly defenseless pet and a child.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve written quite a few pieces with a non-consent/rape as their genre/theme. Some are posted, some are not. I know that I write those kinds of things, not to glorify rape or non-consent, but to work through my own demons on this subject matter. It is therapeutic and since I choose to write erotica it is easier for me to make my characters rape victims rather than molested children. It’s a way to conquer my demons. I think with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forced To Change</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I’ve finally been able to gain closure on my need to work through that particular issue.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So now onto the next, I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been in a few abusive and dysfunctional relationships. I brought up the books I shall not name and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twilight</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> because both series are bestsellers that glorify very dysfunctional relationships. Then to further the issue, both heroines not only allow this abuse, but go on to forgive, much too easily, the assholes and call it love.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Neither character addresses these issues or even acknowledges that there’s a problem with their love interest’s behavior. Okay, maybe a little bit from the books I shall not name. Either way</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this trend started so many years ago and recently a posting on Facebook by Laurell K. Hamilton got me thinking about the fact that this issue isn’t new. The glorification of abusive, dysfunctional relationships has been going on for years. Ever notice that it’s easier to eliminate sexual content from viewing on your television than violence?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don’t get me wrong, I rather enjoy reading LKH, she’s one of my favorite authors. I even found the recent posting interesting and agreed with some areas of it. One thing I cannot condone is her assumption that abusers cannot change. I agree that loving someone hard enough will not get it done, but therapy is only one path to self-growth. I don’t condemn therapy, I’ve found it quite useful for myself. The bottom-line is an abuser has to want to change, and then make every effort </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> change. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not a single change is ever made in your life without your participation. It could take forever, and therapy is a tried and true way to do some self-discovery, figure out who you are and who you want to be. But to suggest that it’s the only way</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">doesn’t leave room for those who find help in support groups or church or whatever it is that people do to conquer their issues.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’re all on a life journey, I call it a divine path. As individuals and together. To suggest that your way is the only way to enlightenment is to say that there is only one way to love, live, and be. Therapy worked for LKH. It worked for some of the people in her life. But what drove me nuts about her posting was therapy doesn’t work for everyone. Religion isn’t for everyone. We don’t all learn the same way. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Personally I’m a hands on learner, I have a friend that has to read every manual to figure out how to do something. I like tutorials that I can do at my own pace. He reads a how-to book one time and he’s mastered the craft. He didn’t grow up in an abusive household. I did. So yeah, I had a real fear of passing my issues on to a child and opted not to have children. He can’t wait to have kids. He’ll probably make an excellent parent. I’ve been told by a lot of my friends and family that I’d make an excellent parent too. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think back to my own mother and there are things that I found sadistic and twisted about her parenting style. Crap, I’d probably pull pranks on my kid, too. Some of it</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sorta walked the line, like when she used to lock me out of the car just to watch me chase after it, tears streaming down my face because I was four and</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thought she was really leaving me. Now, looking back, can’t say I wouldn’t do that shit to my own kid, cuz today, it makes me laugh my ass off retelling the story. Some of it just made me grow a thicker skin and trust me when I say, I needed one growing up. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-10609540402482810592013-11-01T15:19:00.001-07:002016-10-03T08:12:26.469-07:00NaNoWriMo: The Scariest Time Of Year For Writers<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October found me discussing my writing process as a whole in preparation for</span><a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NaNo</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. What’s so hard about a writing contest that challenges you to write 50,000 words in a month? That’s only 1,667 words a day. No big deal. Yeah, right. It’s a nightmare, especially if you suffer from writer’s block, lack of time, your Muse keeps escaping her chains and dungeon, etc. It’s why all of my posts last month were about my writing process. It was my hope to encourage other writers, that way I don’t have to go through this big scary contest alone.</span></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-6264c375-15be-d8d7-ba5b-8e39d4906ec9" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, I’m doing NaNo this year. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yeah me. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, there you have it, all written down and everything. Some of you may or may not have noticed I didn’t actually say whether I’ve done NaNo before. So I’m telling you right now, right this minute, nope, I’ve never done it. I’m a NaNo virgin who desperately wants to pop her NaNo cherry, er, uh, you know what I mean. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I was attempting to psych myself up for actually participating with my posts last month.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After much debate on which novel to work on I’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone. I’ve promised to finish the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rising From The Fire</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> story for years. Although I didn’t start this piece for the contest, I know that what’s published has been begging for a rewrite anyway. I’ve brainstormed RFTF and have all the sex scenes plotted out. The characters are developed, but the lion’s share of the writing has yet to be done. To stay fair and in the spirit of the NaNo contest I won’t count any chapters that were pre-written and will only use the parts that make up the rest of the story as part of my 50,000 word count.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Granted, I could have started a new project, something specifically for Literotica or made the follow-up novel to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forced to Change</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> my goal. However, I’ve been promising more </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rising From the Fire</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for years. I love the story and it has been bouncing around in my head forever. It has simmered long enough that it should be soup already. I just need to commit and get ‘er done and NaNo provides the perfect excuse to do so.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Also because I’ve never done NaNo before, I want to give myself the best chance of completing this task so as not to discourage myself going forward. Funny story, but there’s another contest that takes place over Labor Day weekend, the 72-Hour Novel Writing Contest. Being the dullest knife in the drawer on a regular basis, I tried that one instead many years ago. I didn’t actually enter it, cuz there’s a fee to participate in the actual contest and I’m frugal, but I tried one Labor Day weekend to write an entire novel. That would be my first novel, the dreaded horror show of writing, which I finished a few months later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So y’all get to join me as I brave the NaNo contest for the first time. All signed up and everything. I’m not scared one bit </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(biting fingernails). </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are plenty of projects that I’ll be working on this month to and including moving across the country. Bottom-line, to win the contest all I need to do is complete a 50,000 word manuscript and upload my word count to the site before midnight on November 30, 2013. No big deal, right? Especially with the amount of other things I have going on right now. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rigggght. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can already say, I probably won’t win this year. But at least I’ll try and you never know. We’ll see what happens…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Update: Oct. 3rd, 2016</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So last year I tried to get the bulk of <i>Changed by Time</i> done. No luck, my inner demons pulled me off task so hard I'm still stuck with barely an outline started. I'm considering working on it this year. I keep trying to try to beat the writer's block I'm having with this one piece. So wish me luck and I'll let you know with a brand new post after the contest this year if I'm in a position to do so. I hope to get <i>FTC</i> out this month at the latest in December. This year is all I promised myself but yes I'd like to get the lion's share of <i>CBT</i> done first. The <i>Changed Series</i> has me putting on the breaks right now, so I'm hoping by putting my intention out there I'll have some luck with my inner writer...</span></div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-20145373727491644802013-10-25T18:41:00.001-07:002013-10-25T18:41:05.075-07:00The Hard-On In Writing: Rewriting & Editing<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Okay, to recap this month’s posts: To detail or not: kill your darlings, it’s not lying if you call it fiction, and it’s okay to write crap. Basically I’m coming back around to kill your darlings, rewriting and editing. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wow!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It feels a little full circle, but that’s the process with writing unless you’re perfect. I’m not perfect. I’ll probably make several mistakes today, but that’s okay because I’m human. I don’t mean to make so many mistakes, but I’d rather make mistakes than have regrets. I intend to leave this world without a single regret, and hopefully surrounded by a rainbow of men and…</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*blush*...</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">er, um, way off topic, back to editing and rewriting.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-6264c375-f255-5c16-5ebe-8ddcbf88a6bb" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m currently reading </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Alphabet versus The Goddess: The Conflict Between Word and Image.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I’m only sixty or so pages into it, and I have no idea what I’ll take away from this book as a whole. So far it has me thinking about the fact that I don’t even question my own literacy, though I can remember back to when I couldn’t read. When subtitles in a film would frustrate me or even a pictureless book seemed daunting and overwhelming. If not for Mrs. G, my favorite librarian, I wouldn’t have risen to the challenge of reading and writing.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started writing stories around the time I learned to read. Although </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Alphabet Versus The Goddess</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> inspired some of my favorite songs on Ani Difranco’s latest CD, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Which Side Are You On? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and she’s my favorite writer’s block unlock tool, I really don’t know. As </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once Upon A Time</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> likes to remind viewers in almost every single episode, there’s a price to pay for using magic. Not to jump off on a philosophical tangent but if literacy is a magic power that I have, what is the price I pay for being able to use it? Editing?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In my head, every piece I write is a movie playing out. Most of the time the visual lands on the page. When I edit, if it’s not there already, I plop down the details. It is my hope that the reader sees the picture I envisioned on each and every page. Or at the very least they get a vivid picture that will keep them reading. The parts that end up being crap, I might rework, delete, or edit. I never know until I’m re-reading, rewriting what will stay and what will end up lost to the dreaded delete button. I enjoy editing videos and stuff, but when it comes to self-editing my writing, I’m lousy at it. I’m much too close to the story to see what I wrote.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s a rough draft though. It’s the garden that needs tending. Sure there’s plenty of fertilizer and dirt in the mix, but underneath it all there is a story. A character drowning in bad writing. An emotional scene that</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">makes the story worth reading. One dimensional characters that come to life. No matter what level my writing is at, I always need other people to read what I wrote tell me where I’m unclear, what’s not working. Dare I say, an outside editor or beta reader?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is not to say that we as writers don’t need to do our own editing and rewriting. Before I could start submitting my work to a professional editor, I had to clean it up, flush out the story, rev up the scenes, and capture the details. Grammar and punctuation rules come into play here. I'm still not perfect at them, but I generally take care of the glaring mistakes that make a reader cringe.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So what happens if it still really, really, really sucks? If it doesn't look like editing will help at all? Well, rewriting the entire thing may be in order. With </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forced to Change </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I ended up writing the bulk of the story in first person narrative, then switched it to third person narrative, and then ended up back in first person narrative. I know insane, right? Granted it was after I was already under contract with the third person draft when I went back through and set it to</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">first person. The only thing I can say about this amount of work was, wow. Even as much work as it ended up being, I knew my characters, scenes, plots, theme, and settings backward and forward. I was so much happier with the latest draft once that was done. That accidental insane amount of labor will be a tool I use again one day. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyway, so that’s my writing journey for the most part. Write crap. Detail for no other reason than to detail. Kill your darlings. Above all else, write. When anyone asks me the trick to being a writer my answer is always, WRITE...You’ll pick up the rest along the way, but if you don’t start somewhere even if it’s something as simple as typing the following line over and over again, ‘just write...’ you’ll never have anything to edit or rewrite. So write it down or type it up or speak it into a recording device and get it out there. The tricks and tools come eventually.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-19110843000631520642013-10-18T10:45:00.001-07:002013-10-25T09:41:12.361-07:00Writing Down The Boners!<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In Natalie Goldberg’s book, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writing Down The Bones:Freeing The Writer Within</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> she points out human beings are the only species on Earth with this magical power, literacy, reading and writing. I read the book years ago and have since lost my copy. I mean to replace it one day, so I’ll do a bit a paraphrasing for this post. The one thing that stood out in the book to me, the thing I needed to read most was that it’s okay to write crap. Giving myself permission to write badly is the most valuable tool I ever put in my writing tool box.</span></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-0d1d8021-cc8f-17a8-b993-220fad0ee47d" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writer’s block...</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">You could be the most talented writer in the world, a true perfectionist at the craft of writing and if you are congratulations, I’m so happy for you. Writing is probably as easy for you as breathing. Not me though. As I mentioned in an earlier post I started out as a ‘edit as you go’ writer. I had to make the switch to a ‘write by the seat of my pants’ writer after reading that book. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had these great ideas for stories and I would write anywhere for 2,000 to 10,000 words on a particular piece and I’d stop. Either I couldn’t get back into the flow of it or I had no idea how to move the story forward to get to the end. I wrote myself into a corner constantly or the story just got really boring. Cringe worthy material graced the pages and I couldn’t write another word. Before </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writing Down The Bones</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I let myself be defeated by writer’s block. I considered writing a hobby and continued to pursue jobs that took me far away from the goal of writing for a living.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I needed to know how to finish the story. I was desperate to figure that out. Even when I copied another author’s style, storyline I still couldn’t make the magic happen for me. I discovered a formula to most of the books I read and while studying the craft of writing I picked up on a few things like plot, theme, setting, and story world. I stumbled onto Randy Ingermanson’s newsletter which spoke of this formula that I could see in other writers and still had yet to figure out for my work. </span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unemployment found me attacking the craft of writing a story like a puzzle that needed figuring out. It could be put together if only I could find the key to the map of writing fiction. I turned to reading authors and genres I enjoyed and I tried to get my characters to do the same, finish telling the story.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Overall my biggest issue turned out to be writer’s block. When I read </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writing Down The Bones</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it was like finding a key to my map with writing. That key was it is okay to write shit, crap, junk. Bad writing is allowed. That was the most freeing thing I could hear about writing. I immediately changed my goal. Instead of telling a great story and worrying that every detail was perfect, I wrote total and complete garbage. The only thing that mattered was I was writing, my new goal.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’d finish the scene and get past it onto the next. Impossible unrealistic crap could and did happen to my characters. Scene changes that made no sense sprinkled their way across my words. A real world setting would switch to the future and take place on another planet in an entirely different universe. All of sudden in a modern urban tale there would be a 15th century warrior. Fairies and elves would run rampant or a minor character abruptly took center stage. I was writing. Something was happening on the page or nothing was happening on the page and that was okay. Nothing happening was the basis of one of my favorite television shows, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Seinfeld</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. That show elevated the power of ‘nothing’ to a new level.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My grammar and punctuation were awful. There weren’t even darlings that needed killing. It was mundane dribble, but hey, I was writing and finishing stories. As I’ve said, I hate, loathe my first novel with a passion. I got that first novel length story under my belt about two months after I read that it was okay to write terrible stuff.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was so proud of myself for finishing. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yeah, Woo Hoo!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I proved to myself that I could group 75,000 words together to tell a story. I may hate the novel, but after it was done I managed to figure out my next biggest issue as a writer. I read and re-read every single word over and over again cringing the entire time. Often with lots of alcohol to help me get through it. It was painful to discover I had other issues now that I'd made writer's block my bitch. I was able to triage my weaknesses and learned what my strengths were as a writer. Being able to do that honestly and truly as a writer was humbling, yet very freeing.</span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Turns out that although I wrote for my enjoyment my target audience at that time was my biggest supporter of my writing, my aunt. She’s married to a minister and related to me through blood. This woman who I love and adore changed my diapers and has known me all my life. In the back of my head I was writing stories to please her. Turns out, my fantasies, the things I really enjoyed reading (and writing) were not for her eyes. I know where I intended my first novel to go. My aunt wanted to read it and I’d agreed to send it to her chapter by chapter as I wrote it. I so did not write the novel I meant to write. I only realized this hard truth as I finished writing my first novel.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I dropped my wonderful aunt as a beta reader. Considering she was the only beta reader I had at the time it was pretty easy to do. My next couple of beta readers were virtual female friends but eventually I landed on the right ones for me, dirty old men. At that point, I had a target audience that fit with the kind of writing I wanted to do and this little porn writer was born. So, I write down the boners, or orgasms, sometimes both, occasionally neither. I write until I finish the story and then the hard, difficult work starts. Rewrites and editing...</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-35278478408485639792013-10-11T17:32:00.000-07:002013-10-25T09:27:39.183-07:00Creative Editing: It’s Not Lying If You Phrase It Right<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Okay, since this is the month before NaNo I figure I’ll talk about my writing process for the month of October. What’s NaNo you ask? The full abbreviation is <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">NaNoWriMo</a> though most people just call it NaNo which stands for National Novel Writing Month. There’s an entire website dedicated to this long standing November practice of attempting to write an entire novel during the month. You can sign up or download the app and you’re all set. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Plenty of first novels have been written during the month of November because of the website. From the novice to veteran authors, for example James Patterson is a huge fan of the site, it’s a place to get feedback and share. It’s awesome. Most writers I know are aware and have their own NaNo stories to tell, though most are creatively edited.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I spend a great deal of time creatively editing the details of my life. I’ve been doing this for years. It’s a practice I started about the time I started writing at seven years old. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you write fiction you’re given liberty to creatively edit. You’re a liar. You’re getting paid to lie, you do it and call it fiction. <i>Woo Hoo!</i></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I ask a lot of ‘what if’ questions, and based on my history I create a scenario, an outcome for the character. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Action and reaction, over and over until I finish the story. It’s easier to write what I know, so typically as the writer, the creator the character has my reaction or a creatively edited (what I wish I would have said or done in the same situation). </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">I find a great deal of inspiration in getting to say the thing I wished I’d said, but didn’t in a particular situation. So long time creative editor. By the time I’m retelling the story, I said that line, that I failed to say. It left my lips at the perfect moment and did its job. Then I go on to remember it the new way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">At one point I felt bad about doing a creative edit. My mother instilled that fear of lying to her early on and the disappoint on her face when I was caught in my first lie left a life long impression. I carried a great deal of guilt over it other than when I put pen to paper, that I couldn't forgive and until I started calling it 'creative editing' or 'fiction' and a friend laid the Edie Brickell lyrics on me, “I swear I remember it that way, (too)," I would have continued to feel that guilt.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have a friend who does it all the time not only that, he does it right in front of me. From his lips, the most mundane activity is hilarious. We laugh, although at first I tried to correct the details, until his version was too funny to bother. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Example, we were riding in Dante 2, my truck, somewhere and a bug flew in the window. It landed on my sandal covered foot. The bug crawled up my leg, so I pulled the truck over, hopped out and shook it off my leg. That’s the true story as I remember it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">In his version, I was speeding down the highway when all of a sudden my driving became erratic. I screamed as he grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle. I almost crashed us into the car in the next lane. I crossed three lanes of traffic, creating a pile up in my wake the entire time screaming and hollering incoherently. I pulled into the nearest parking lot, dashed out the driver’s side door, waving my arms like a lunatic. Tears streamed down my face as I finally returned to the vehicle calm and collected. I stated, “There was an enormous bug on my foot,” while holding my hands a foot apart. In his version, he saw a ladybug, that was it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Okay, other than the fact that his version casts me in a bad light, I had to admit, yup his version, so much funnier than mine. Today, which version do I usually tell? His of course, edited without the carnage of creating a pile up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carnage is great for fiction, as I mentioned in the last post, “kill your darlings.” The phrase has two meanings to me. First kill the stuff you’re so in love with in your writing for the betterment of the scene, story but also, killing characters is acceptable too. Supporting cast and sometimes even main characters can die. It's allowed, really, truly I swear. Some writers overdo the killing, example, ‘Game of Thrones’. The point is with fiction, creative editing go for the extreme. It’s not reality so carnage is allowed. The creative edit is usually funnier even if everyone involved knows that's not what happened, instead of a mundane event you'll find a wonderful story to tell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-63347628596036569642013-10-05T11:53:00.001-07:002013-10-25T09:12:06.129-07:00To Detail Or Not To Get That Specific, Duh!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve been in the copy edit
stage for a while now with my debut novel, <i>Forced To Change</i>. This is a
good thing. No, really it is. It means that when the novel is published it will
be polished. Each and every word as I intended or agreed to so that the story I
meant to tell is the one that you read. I really needed an
editor. This way I’ve had five so far. Five different people, it’s a team of
editors. <i>Woo Hoo! </i>Five different sets of eyes going over my story. It was an unexpected advantage, unexpected because once again, I'm not always the brightest bulb in the room and I didn't realize how much I needed a professional editor. Not even beta readers could catch all the
little hidden mistakes that I can’t see any more purely because I wrote it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So this becomes another
example of where I have to practice patience daily. I’m cool with it. Really, I
am. Okay, it was a lot ego-bruising at first. Then someone reminded me I have no
history with my publishers. They have a list of amazing, established authors that they’ve worked
with for years. People that brought much larger platforms to the table. I just
started my writing career a few years ago. I haven’t built up the audience yet.
I had no idea what the business side of writing entailed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m getting a quick
education and a part of that is, editing takes a lot of time and a lot hard work. Not
just me, but from a team of individuals on my publisher’s side. People who are
hoping this book turns a profit and does amazing when it’s available just like
I have the same dream. Only no one gets paid should my book fail epic-ally. Then all
their time, money, and energy is out the window, while I sit around being disappointed,
but not defeated by it. Why? Well, it’s my first novel. As much as I love the
story I wrote and told, the realist in me knows that usually the debut novel
doesn’t do much market wise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The debut novel establishes
an author’s credit. The way the scenario for most typically plays out, it’s the
success of the second, or the third novel that elevates the first novel. Or, it
takes years and years for the first novel to gain a following. As much as
having a best seller out the gate would validate my career choice of writing professionally, I’ve got a deadline in mind as to when I’ll have to sacrifice my
time and energy to a dreaded, stupid day job for the benefit of my needs and survival. I'll tuck my dream away for a bit and try again in a few months or years when I’m
in a position to pursue it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay, so that was
completely off topic. Details. Um, about that. In writing I mean. Well,
sometimes they are necessary. No matter what your process as a writer is, your
story is better when you get the details out of your head and down onto the page. I’m a ‘seat of my
pants’ writer, though I used to be an ‘edit as I go’ writer. A while back I
decided I’d attempt to ‘outline strictly’ or ‘organize, but loosely’ my next
work. I read a piece where that was apparent in the work and I could only see
the benefit of working that way. This means that before I put word one down of
the next novel I should at least have a brainstorm, an outline, maybe even a
scene list done before I sat down to write. I did and am currently working on
the follow up to <i>FTC. Woo Hoo!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The advantage of working on
a novel this way is it cuts down on writer’s block. When I sit down to write I
have a direction every single day to go in until the story is finished, rather
than my usual word count for today game plan. No matter which way you write
though, when you’re capturing a scene down on the page there comes a point
where you want to share. Maybe it’s the setting, or a description of the
character or how the weather is at that moment or what song is playing on the
good old iPod for the character. How much is too much? When does detailing go
from moving the story forward to bogging it down with information that the
reader won’t want to read and possibly they stop reading the book? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s the trick to
detailing, finding the balancing act of giving enough information to keep the
reader interested. Painting a vivid picture but not so much detail that the reader skims until it changes or something happens, if you’re lucky. Remember they
always have the option to stop reading, period. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This is why the editing
process is taking a great deal of time with <i>FTC. </i>For my 3 long time
loyal followers (welcome to the party 3 new ladies), you guys know how much
I like to detail. I also slip specifics in that don’t seem important at the
time, but later come back around. Although Stephen King recommends ‘kill your
darlings’ he can say that. He’s established as an author and has a
working history with his editor. So, sometimes a three page description of
person will end up in his work and as a reader I accept this and most of the
time enjoy it anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Since I’m no Stephen King, I accept that my editors pull some of the stuff I feel is necessary to
the telling of this story. In other words, they murder my darlings for me. When I have a chance
to let the edit marinate, I see their point. <i>Sigh. </i>In the end I usually defer
to their wisdom and most of the time the sentence/paragraph/scene reads much better for the
correction. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I think I’m pretty good about cutting my own
darlings. For example the original draft of <i>Forced To Change</i> the first
paragraph was this whole thing about spilling food on her breast and making
choices. At the end the main character walked out of the house not caring that
she had a bright spot of yellow on her white shirt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I thought the paragraph did
this great job of establishing the character’s state of mind. It captured her
depression, low self-esteem, etc. It was the setup of all setups for who this
girl was. By the time I was done with the second draft or third draft it was gone. A darling
no more. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I loved the paragraph, but I didn’t feel it
was good for the story as a whole. I covered her state of mind later and I do a
more relatable job of it as the reader moves forward in the novel. All the
things that one paragraph did are spread out over the first chapter. It <i>was</i>
my darling and to keep it weighed down the story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My recommendation when
writing, when choosing whether to detail or not to detail, DETAIL. Break every
rule of writing you can while writing your first draft. The first draft is for
all the mistakes. Write prose and not enough if necessary, because the goal is
to write. With NaNo coming around next month a lot of people will attempt to write
their very first novel. Sticking to the rules of writing can and does
create writer’s block and the goal is to get that first novel under your
belt, right? So write. Detail until anyone reading the scene can see,
taste, hear, feel, and smell the entire thing the way you mean it. It’s much
easier to amputate your darling.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-62202475899093481812013-09-22T13:49:00.003-07:002013-09-22T13:49:11.110-07:00Ani Difranco & Me...<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I picked up most of my musical preferences in college. Sure I have my favorites bands and artists, that occasionally change over time. There’s that one song that makes the playlist because it’s a really, really good one. But if you’re like me and in your thirties you tend to have nothing nice to say about most of today’s music. Maybe I’m becoming like my parents were with me when I listened to MC Hammer (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>cringe, I was young)</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I also grew up in love with Kurt Cobain, Peter Steele and Layne Staley. Although Janet Jackson showed her boobie during a Super Bowl, I forgave her publicity stunt, just as those that listen to and love Miley Cyrus will forgive that mess on this year’s MTV music awards. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-66ca44cc-474c-c465-9e64-35cadef31a67" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I lived in a shoebox while dining on Ramen noodles most evenings if I didn’t get a filling meal or two off my day job at the catering company or bar I worked for while studying Telecommunications I was introduced to Ani Difranco by the young lady, S, who resided across the hallway from me. S was a hippy at heart girl and we had a love of movies like </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Trainspotting</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Real Genius</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Ani Difranco was going to be in concert at a small venue and S needed someone else to go with her to the concert. She'd already purchased two tickets for the show but the other person backed out, or their friendship ended. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I borrowed </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dilate </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">in CD format and listened to it for the next three days. I was hooked from the first three tracks. I wanted to see the show and the girl across the hall continued to feed me information about the artist that I found awesome and inspiring. S told me Ani had moved to New York City as a teenager and she learned guitar by pestering various artist. I thought that was pretty cool considering I learned to play bass pretty much the same way. Her original poetry could be found throughout her lyrics and her style was so joyful, yet dark I decided that the only way to describe the folksinger's music was a piece of Ani’s soul was in every single song. Then S and I went to the concert and I was in love.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That was it. One CD, one concert and I found my go to artist. When life sucked, I blared Ani from my grandmother’s car speakers as I drove around trying to figure out my next move. Miss Difranco’s music worked for every occasion, the good and bad times of life in general. I purchased CDs on my own and even after college if I saw that Ani Difranco would be in town and I had the cash, I attended the concert.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To date I’ve been to about twenty Ani Difranco concerts. Once a guy who’s a friend of a very good friend had tickets and decided to treat us to the show. He called her ‘Annie’ over the night of that show, which irritated me. We’ve attended two of her concerts together. He likes her message and loves that in addition to being an amazing performer and feminist that Ani Difranco is a huge activist when it comes to political and economical issues. During the last concert we went to he repeated her statement about Al Gore’s </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An Inconvenient Lie</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, when she said something like, “Really Al? That’s your solution to the energy crisis? Try again you silly boy!” as we sat in the parking lot listening to the </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Canon</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> disc sets I’d just purchased.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I introduced Ani to quite a few friends over the years but eventually I got to the point where I didn’t need someone else to go with me. She has a show this coming Wednesday and although I invited a few people to the concert, I bought my ticket a month ago and I don’t really care if anyone joins me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although a few of her songs have mainstreamed for the most part Ani Difranco is an independent artist who started her own label, Righteous Babe, after turning down offer after offer to sign with an already established label. She’s the kind of artist that has a strong, often playful message that is fun to hear and dance along with. I have yet to be disappointed with a single show. When I can’t write because my Muse is in a mood, Ani soothes my inner artist and gets her back on track. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So if you’re going to be in the Atlanta, GA area Wednesday, September 25, 2013 at 8:00pm stop by the Variety Playhouse in Little Five Points for an introduction to this quirky, soulful music by a woman that has inspired this starving porn writer for years and for years to come. Or if you’re already familiar with Ani Difranco and want to see a concert, that’s a reason to go too. The live shows are completely different from the CDs in my opinion they’re better. Each performance fills me with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">anticipation, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wednesday night can’t come fast enough.</span></div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-45346105445446842692013-09-13T17:33:00.001-07:002013-09-13T17:33:46.974-07:00Kids Ain’t For Me<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A woman I used to hang out with had two little girls, one with spina bifida (four years old), the other is going to be a superstar (six years old). I haven’t a clue what career path this bright little light in the world is going to play in the future, but she and I had the following conversation one night when her mother didn’t feel like cooking. We</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">met up at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that served amazing margaritas:</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-66ca44cc-19bc-415f-636b-421b93c45a32" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Cute Superstar (CS):</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Hey, Simone! Why don’t you like kids? We’re totally adorable and cute. What’s your problem? (she gave me her money-making, ‘works on everyone else but never on me’ smile and raised her eyebrows up and down a few times to really sell it)</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></i></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Me:</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I’m allergic to kids.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></i></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>CS:</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> <i>Oh, I didn’t realize. I’m allergic to peanuts. I’ll scoot over further so you don’t get sick.</i></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some of you are going aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwweeee. Simone, how could you not want to be a mother with conversations like that? Um, sorry folks, kids just ain’t for me. Originally, I had a fear of getting pregnant for a couple of reasons. One might think it was because of my mother. As if she saw this as some huge failure in life and pushed me towards college and a career. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She did do that (see the contract I signed at eight years old in an earlier blog post), but mostly I had a lot of female cousins who thought getting pregnant before they could drive was a good idea while I was growing up. My peers at the time saw my cousins as ghetto, welfare moms making life choices that none of them would ever consider. In other words, I looked down on my family. I decided I would be better than them when it came to getting pregnant.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother and I used to have deep, informative, hard hitting fact conversations. She was as open as open could be on every subject matter. There was not a single question that could pop out of my mouth that she wouldn’t answer. Some people felt she overshared with me, but she rarely treated me like a child and I was grateful for it, especially when I consider how young I was when she died.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her view on my getting pregnant was, “Feel free to come home pregnant. I reserve the right to scream and yell. But you can always come home. Pregnant or not.”</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother said this statement to comfort me. We’d just learned the news that my fourteen year old cousin had committed suicide. My cousin, Tracy, had gotten pregnant and was too afraid to tell her mother the information. She choose to end her life. Tracy’s death cut at me, mostly because we hadn’t spoken since my mother had moved us back to Michigan from Ohio. I was twelve at the time of her death.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tracy’s suicide lead to the second conversation I’d ever had with my mother about abortions. The first conversation on this subject matter came about</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">before</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">she divorced my abusive stepfather. In hindsight, although she never said, and I never asked, she was trying to decided what to do. I’m assuming my mother was pregnant at the time because she asked me how I would feel about a sibling. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought it was great. I was a lonely only child. I wanted a minion, another person to blame besides my imaginary friend when something got broken. This tactic didn’t work in our household and resulted in the murder of my imaginary friend. So to me, an actual person to blame for the busted lamp caused while I jumped rope in the living room was “Yes, yes, yes.” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No siblings every appeared in my life. My friends continued to be jealous of my lack of mini-terrorist in my home. I didn’t get that special someone to bully. The abortion part of the conversation happened because my mother admitted to me [on the car ride home] that she’d had one before I was born. I got quiet, thinking about what she’d said. I asked why she didn’t abort me after awhile. She answered the same, because she’d had one before I was born. When she got pregnant with me, she’d regretted that choice so much she promised herself she wouldn’t do it again. Her words stuck and resonated with me for years and years.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So while having the second conversation, she made sure I understood that if I ever got pregnant and came home, once she finished her screaming and yelling, she would take me to have one if that was what I decided. Only this was all theory and ended up my shaping my position on the pro-choice/pro-life debate. I was pro-choice but I figured if I should become pregnant, no matter what age, I would keep the child. To insure I never had to make that choice the moment I became sexually active I asked and obtained birth control.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even before I became sexually active, my mother checked my wallet for a prophylactic, while ignoring the rolling papers tucked down behind it, I mean, er, uh, anyway, before I left out the house on a date. She didn’t embarrass me fully by showing my would-be suitor what she was checking for, that was between us. She did however rapid fire questions at the guys waiting for intelligent answers. When I returned home I got their review. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From the purple haired boys to the real life ‘Where’s Waldo’ I used to date, my mother always had something nice to say about the young men. She did fall in love with my beard (I dated a guy twice my age at sixteen. Nothing sexual, he really did enjoy my mind and was more of a mentor than a love interest). The beard was a great guy and today we’re even Facebook friends, he’s happily married. Though in high school he missed the function of a beard a few times, and actually brought a date with him when he picked me up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even though I’m in my thirties today, I don’t really see kids in my future. I’ve had plenty of friends take the plunge so there are always young minds around to warp if I get the urge. Although I claim to be allergic to children, I think I enjoy the freedom of being responsible for only my cat, Nike. I’m actually allergic to her, but I love her enough that I’m willing to be her mother, even if she did destroy a pair of Nike tennis shoes which is how she got her name.</span></div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-28408533268560694852013-08-31T08:11:00.002-07:002015-10-27T05:55:24.579-07:00Forced To Change ~ Sunday, September 16, 2012<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">I journal. Yup, I’m one of those writers. I started journaling, rather, I kept a diary with a stern warning to my mother to ‘KEEP OUT!’ scrawled on the cover when I was a child. I have almost every composition notebook I’ve written in going back to high school. So, I’m a journal creator most of my life. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Occasionally, I’ll go back and read a piece of me captured by my own words at an earlier time in my life. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>They're always from my past, however, if I find some writing from my future I'll share right away because that would be so totally awesome. </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes, I’m struggling or as was the case with this journal entry I’m about to share, something wonderful happened. I believe I’d just finished the first draft of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forced To Change.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This year, changes FORCED changes. Reaching bottom, falling down. Learning to rise. Seeing the strength inside me others see and when creatively rearranged is a story worth telling.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve learned but I can, will, do learn each and everyday. I know me better than anyone else can. I’ve heard all the thoughts, of course. Experienced every pain, known every success, and plunged into the darkness. When I’ve been through every step and when I felt the most alone and lonely in my life, God has been there travelling through all of it, to it with me.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I should not forget that. I do, but I’m trying. I’m trying to remember Divine path. Divine destiny. Divine life. Living the life I was meant to regardless of how I think, assume my life should have or could have or even would have unfolded. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is no change in my life without God. Without God I am. With God I am as I am.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s the thing, I am not without God. Whether I believe or remember at the time. The moment that is always my past as soon as it passes me by. Hard to live in the present if I am too busy living in my past. But the past is what I know.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The present is happening and I hope, pray, dream of my Divine future as God planned for me.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">FORGIVENESS IS GIVING UP THE RIGHT TO BE RIGHT!”</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, yup that was me almost a year ago. I guess I was processing a lot about myself and what role my Higher Power played in my life or something like that. I don’t know, I guess I try to be spiritual rather than religious. I checked out a lot of religions before I found the one that spoke to me. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Literally spoke to me, I mean, the first spiritual leader I came in contact with from my religion gave a sermon that fit exactly what I was going through at that time. As a result, I finally settled on a religion. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">You may or may not have noticed I don’t share what religion I do practice. I do this because my religion isn’t for everyone. It took me from catholic school through college to find a place that spoke to me and once I did, I picked a religion to practice.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some people never find a religion that works for them, or they don’t even believe in a Higher Power. I do, but this was a choice I made. I know my choices aren’t for everyone, but they are my choices to make just as your choices are yours to make. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Recently, I found the person physically closest to me, IE, my ex-roommate was very judgmental about my choices. So, although he claims he kicked me out, I feel I left that situation, yet another choice I made. According to my words from a year ago, leaving is just what is meant to be in my life.</span>Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-43706333222420358832013-08-24T09:25:00.001-07:002015-10-06T10:35:35.683-07:00Flirting 101: Continued...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">First things first. A little warning before
practicing flirting. <i>Know yourself and to
your own self be true.</i> My opinion is purely made up of a lot of observation
of myself and others and my drawing conclusions. As I’m not always the lit wick
in a room full of burning candles, I could be wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you are a single person (or in an open
relationship) and shopping for someone to add to your bed, the first step
before flirting is to figure out if your sign reads ‘available’ or ‘victim’.
The difference will determine what kind of relationship you find yourself in,
should you be using flirting with a relationship with the new person as a goal
in your mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Personally, I use flirting to put new men (M/M or M/F
couples) on my sexual playlist as I don’t do relationships currently. I’m
‘single and loving it’ by choice. So if you’re only playlist partner shopping,
by all means go read the 3 tips below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif";">Available</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif";"> sign - I’m a mentally and
physically (and spiritually) healthy individual looking for someone to enter
into a relationship, possibly long term (LT). Or a one-night stand, or
temporary. (sign’s necessity applies to LT relationship seekers.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif";">Victim</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif";"> sign - I think I’m putting out
an ‘Available’ sign, but I have a lot of self-image/self-worth issues I need to
work on. I’m desperate not to be single and lonely anymore. (This sign should NOT
be up if you’re looking for a LT relationship. Short term/knock off an illusion
of intimacy need/one-night stands this sign is okay to fly).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Desperation is the world’s worse cologne,</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> which
means most likely you will NOT attract a ‘good for you’ person while your
‘Victim’ sign is up. You get hit on a lot when your ‘Victim’ sign is on. You’ll
find that person (people sniffing around) charming and attractive. You’ll feel
swept off your feet and sure you’ve found the one.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The only problem is the people attracted to ‘Victim’ signs are
predatory. They see the sign as if hearing a siren’s song and will immediately
manipulate you and take advantage of your mindset. Every relationship I’ve seen
started while the person had their ‘Victim’ sign flashing instead of an
‘Available’ sign was a dysfunctional, unhealthy and often abusive relationship.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As you may have guessed, this was the
self-defeating behavior I had to eliminate from my life when applying it to romance/relationships
and me. I chose to stop getting into relationships altogether. I came up with
my sexual playlist partner rules and this works for me and my lifestyle. </span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, yeah, back in college I learned to flirt. Only as you
may have guessed from the above a lot of the time my ‘Victim’ sign was waving
and I kept finding myself in abusive, dysfunctional relationships.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay, warning over and now onto the good stuff.
The three tips on flirting as promised:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Number
3 Tip:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>Display The Twins!</u> Sorry my loyal 3 male
followers, I don’t know what the boobies equivalent for a male is, however, I’m
a backside, junk in the truck kinda gal. Trust me, if we’ve met I checked out
your ass and you never caught me doing it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ladies, these sweater puppies, no matter their
size are the feature most people sexually attracted to you will check out
first. Most heterosexual guys don’t even make eye contact for looking at your
jugs. So push-up bra and cleavage showing top away whether you have large or
small ones. Doesn’t matter, cuz your breasts always enter a room first if
you’re walking forward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Number
2 Tip:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>Best Feature Flaunting!</u> If you don’t know
what your best feature is, figure it out with a quickness and then just like
the girls, bring attention to it (usually something you’ve been complimented on
a lot). Mine are my lips/mouth so I apply a lot of chapstick when man shopping.
Or I lick my lips which has the added bonus of bringing attention to my #1
attractor to my mouth, my tongue piercing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If I like the looks of someone I subtly and
sometimes unconsciously now, reveal the piercing, as if I can’t think without
having it peek out from between my lips briefly. I learned my mouth was my 2nd
best feature (chest melons 1st) when I heard CSL’s (cock sucking lips) as the
most common description for my lips. They are full, soft, and often wet from
licking, so I guess it applies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Number
1 Tip:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <u>Compliment The Person! Duh!</u> If you find
someone attractive and you’re brave enough to do so, tell them. It’s so damn
simple but so many people don’t do this when flirting and uh, quite stupid
really. You won’t know, if you don’t try. As my mom used to say, “You will
survive any failure in your life except skydiving!” You’ll get over the
rejection, trust. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I only recently discovered this one myself, which
is why, I’m like, idiot, idiot for not thinking of it sooner. I recently started
going to a gym because I want to wear a dress one size down for my book signing for <i>Forced to Change. </i>Well I decided to hit the gym on the
regular because sooooooooooo much yummy eye candy to be seen there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Someone on Facebook suggested I sneak a camera in
so they, too, could see all the eye candy I was scoping. Arriving at the gym
the next day, I whipped out my phone and mentioned I wanted pictures of the eye
candy I’d seen to the staff. The first guy to hear what I was up to, went into
the back and changed shirts so he could having his abs and guns captured. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I quickly had several pics in my phone while
saying, I’m looking for pics of ‘eye candy’ and until I ran into a brother so
fine I couldn’t admit it (I creatively edited what I was doing and told him I
was working on a ‘project’) I was having so much fun, I actually missed the
fact that this was a compliment to the person whose picture I took. I’m not the
sharpest knife in the drawer, yes, I know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’d gotten several pictures and proof of such
visual goodness for the person who asked, so I did my little workout, returned
home and posted the pictures to FB. The very next day I learned that while eye
candy picture taking, if I had admitted what I was doing to the fine ass man
from the gym, I might have gotten his digits. So yeah, if you like the looks of
someone, you find that person attractive, TELL THEM. You never know what might
happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629038366449800762.post-69239045210367437202013-08-20T09:04:00.001-07:002016-02-18T09:19:07.737-08:00I Majored In Flirting In College<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some of you read the title of this post and went, really there’s a course for that? How did I miss that one in the college curriculum? It wasn’t offered in the books, it’s just a lesson you learn while trying to figure out how to get people you are attracted to, to your bedroom. Personally, I think this is just the right age and environment to start exploring your sexuality. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before entering college, you’re still transitioning from childhood to adulthood. You’re borrowing your parents ideas and words and using them as your own. You’re awkward about your appearance and developing your view of the world. It’s already a time of a lot of pressure, growing up is hard. So yeah, let the sexual exploration wait until you’re mature enough to handle it. This is just my advice, and something that I would have done then if I knew what I know now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why do I think college is the best environment to unleash the hot monkey, kinky, freaky dealio phase of a person’s life? Well, it’s probably the first time you’re out from under your parent(s) thumb. If you opt to move into the dorms rather than living at home consider yourself free. That’s right, you’re free. The parental shackles are no more. Most people take this time to experiment, figure out who the hell they are instead of who their parents have been telling them they are. Parents are well meaning, completely loving in their intent, but this is probably the leading cause of teenage rebellion in my opinion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyway, so you’re out, your free, go nuts, run with scissors and leave that mini-fridge wide open. Stay up until six am talking with your roommate about who you think you are and listen to them tell you who they think they are. You may think you know from their Facebook profile, but trust me, that’s only part of their story. So get to know the first person you’re going to live with outside your family for the next 7 to 8 months. This will cut down on that useless and overly dramatic inevitable argument that occurs where she said, he said and you two change rooms with a quickness to find someone else more to your liking to live with.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Back to Flirt 101. So you’re out there, living in the world away from home for the first time...Exxxxxxxxxxceellent. You’re dumped into a group of people that are just as awkward and socially stunted as you are, now what? Well, statistically 75% of college students meet their first spouse in a college environment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">I learned a long time ago, quite by accident that I don’t like being in relationships. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex. Yes, please and thank you. But all that boyfriend/girlfriend, wife/husband and all the kinds of relationships in between are not for me. When I announce to people I’m single and the other person is in a relationship of some kind they tend to want to feel sorry for me. Thanks for your pity face, ‘oh you poor dear and what the hell is wrong with you' face, but I’m a single lady by choice, so no need for concern.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">I guess when you say you’re single the person remembers when they were single and probably spent a lot of time feeling lonely and depressed about that status. I’m not depressed about it and in fact I enjoy alone time a lot. I tend to isolate, shut out the world and crawl into my head. It can be unhealthy if I let it go on too long or if I’m hosting hourly pity parties about crap that really shouldn’t matter and stuff that just happens to be a part of the living experience.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">I guess my perspective would never of come about if I didn’t have a truly amazing woman in my life, K.D., whose first reaction to my single status was, “OMG! Lucky you!” about 10 years ago when we first met. She envied me my status and assumed it was my choice. At the time I was in the mindset, but I just haven’t found my Mr. Right. I was fresh out of college, in my twenties, isn’t this the time in my life where I’m supposed to be settling down and getting married?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was her assumption that I choose to be single that kind of tossed me for a loop and started me down a path to question my thinking on my relationship status. Was it my choice or was there something really wrong with me? I mean, I showered and everything, shouldn’t men find me attractive? Yadda, yadda, yadda. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">K and I would often hit the bars on the weekend. She hosted single meetup groups in her spare time and gave me every opportunity to check out potential mates. At the end of the day, I sat back and watched and listened at these gatherings, some participation but mostly doing what I’ve done all my life, observe human nature. Numbers were exchanged, pelvises were pressed together, but as a whole I never walked away in a relationship for the most part. Friendships, sure that happened, but I didn’t find my Prince Charming among any of the men.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">So what the hell was my problem? What was I doing wrong? When a pattern arises in my life, situations that feel similar to one another, but are slightly different, I take a long hard look at what it is I’m doing to find the fault, so I can correct the behavior and break the cycle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">For example, I got fired from a lot of jobs in my early twenties. Over and over something would happen and my temper would explode all over the nearest authority figure. It became so commonplace, that my friends loved to call me up and ask for the story of why I got fired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">They had to know what pearls of snarky sarcasm landed on my ex-boss’s ears. How had I told the person off? How exactly had I told my former boss to kiss my ass as I walked out the door? I told the story, sometimes creatively edited versions, but mostly what had happened to my audience of friends and family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was laughing, heated debates of what a bitch or asshole my boss had been and this went on for quite a few years until finally one day I had an epiphany. The only thing these many firings had in common was me. The cast may have changed but I was the only player who’d been in the same situation over and over again. So maybe all my bosses weren’t the tools and douchebags in my tired repeated scenario, but in fact me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I identified this pattern in my life that was a painful repeating cycle that I was probably making happen over and over again, I asked for help to stop it. Enter my aunt’s suggestion that I take the adult extension class offered at </span><a href="http://www.lcc.edu/" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">LCC</a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"> ‘Eliminating Self-Defeating Behavior’.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I took away from that class was yes, indeed I was the common denominator in my holding down a job problem. I'd had a successful interview and had been offered the job the week before I started the class. I was determined to keep that job, no matter what. I was fresh out of college and things like rent and food were kind of important to me. So I listened, learned as I started breaking my bad habit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first item, the hardest one on that list of things I was doing wrong, was my temper. I’d been rewarded for going off, blowing my top, by my friends and family ever since the first time I’d done it. When the situation was retold from my perspective, people in my life often laughed and gave me positive attention for doing it. That’s how I formed that particular self-defeating behavior in the first place. And the consequences for that action, had to get too high to pay for me to continue.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I learned to control my temper. Those beautiful snarky remarks that would have flown out of my mouth at a moments notice remained behind locked lips and never found their way to my new boss's ears.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">Guess what happened? Consequences I rather enjoyed, like raises, and sideways promotions. Hey that was new and I rather liked it. Awesomeness. I liked those results even more than unleashing my angry little comment that would have landed me on the unemployment line. I wanted more of that. So I continued to control my anger at that job for a full year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was a first for me. I didn’t exactly hate my boss, however, it wasn’t like everything was so perfect and heavenly with that secretarial job. There were things I really disliked about corporate settings in general. Office politics and in that situation there was a ‘good old boys’ mentality. One of the men in charge said to myself and few other secretaries, “Well, sure you can attend the golf outing this coming weekend. What are your beer wench skills like, darlin’s?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s almost verbatim to what this dickhead of a boss said, I shit you not. He wasn’t my boss, thank Goddess. Then to add insult to injury the bosses invited the part-time admins who only worked the weekends that happened to be male to attend the golf outing. Guess what? They got to play golf, not fetch beers. My boss was a female, she supervised all the secretaries in our office, so when that whole thing went down and even though she played golf she wasn’t invited on the outing either. That was the beginning of the end for me and that particular job.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took a full six months later and I maintained my temper almost fully on my way out the door. I kicked a door open on the day I decided I was done. I didn’t take off my boss’s head in the process. I ended up handing over a letter of resignation (granted two seconds before I would have been fired) and did an exit interview, another first for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">The beauty of this was my year and a half reaped another unexpected and new to me reward. I had a previous employer that I could put down on resume and a supervisor willing to do a letter of recommendation. Oh my Goddess, it was so much easier to find employment when those things happened. Consequences of handling the situation better was an even better reward that telling off my boss. Wow, who knew it could be that way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">So you would think I just needed to identify what self-defeating behavior I was doing in my relationships to fix the problem, right? Find it, shut it down and then my world would be perfect. Surely this great knowledge could be applied to relationships? Well, yes and no. Not to be a big old tease, but I don’t want this post to get too long so I’m going to save the rest for next week.</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">To Be Continued...</i></div>
Simone Lisbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10937350574746048737noreply@blogger.com0