Social Icons


06 February 2012

Monday in My Coffee Cup

Today I am drinking Pike Place Roast from Starbucks.  It is absolutely delicious.

Today I am also starting the last two weeks before I have to be finished cleaning/packing/painting/purging in order to be ready for my cross-country move.  I can no longer sit the days away just thinking about the move.  I must act.

This means I can still have my morning coffee and check blogs - just not for three hours.

So today I take my inspiration from a simple Anne Frank quote I found:
"Laziness may appear attractive, but work gives satisfaction."

I supremely enjoy sitting in front of the computer or TV all day, planning what I will do, and not actually doing it.  Laziness is very attractive to me.  I am a lazy person.

I don't want to be lazy anymore!!  My boyfriend is the opposite of lazy, and I'd like to use him as an example to improve my disposition.

So off I go to clean and pack and buy paint and sell stuff and try to find a house and and and get the idea.

Thanks for reading my rambling today.  Hope your Monday is treating you all well!

02 February 2012

Snowfest Blogfest!

I am participating in the Snowfest Blogfest over at Roh Morgan's blog.  It's a chance to write something inspired by snow!  Go over there and check out what people are writing!  Here's mine.


When she opened her eyes, blackness filled her vision. She threw her hands to her face, searching for something that might be blocking her eyes. She found her icy skin and nothing else. She patted down her face in disbelief; she could not see. 
Alice felt all around her, a wet, fluffy substance engulfed her legs. She could tell she was laying down on her back in snow. She didn't know where she was, but she did know that it was cold – the “freeze to death” type of cold.

This sudden realization threw her into a panic – was she alone? How did she get here? If she couldn't see, how would she get to safety? Hysteria set in as she tried to stand up, but something was holding her to the ground at her ankles. She reached along her legs down to her feet, where she felt metal shackles. She jerked her legs away from the bindings, but was only met with unforgiving hardware. 
Alice tried to scream, but all that came out was a raspy squeak. She tried again, but her throat was too dry. She heard a crunching noise to her right. It sounded like someone walking on tree branches. Alice wanted to ask who was there, but her voice was still silent. 
“Well, hello Alice. So nice that you're finally awake.” His voice was dark and heavy; it slithered through the air. He caressed her raven hair, leaning over to smell the aroma of her milky skin. Alice squirmed under his touch, scooting a few inches; not far enough to escape his intrusion.

“I've been waiting for hours. It's not very nice of you to keep me waiting – I don't like to wait. You'll be rightly punished, but not just yet.” He paused, gently touching her throat. “It is a shame I had to choke you so hard, I enjoy a bit of good conversation.” Alice couldn't see, but she could almost hear his wicked smile.

She tried to remember how she got here, but she only had flashes of a memory. Books in her hands, the softness of the gloves, car tires squealing across the ice. Though her mind tried, it remained a fractured puzzle.

“Ah, yes, you don't remember a thing. I can see by the confusion on your face. Which brings me to why you can't see. I had to make sure you couldn't see me or where we were going. Sorry about that, my dear. It must have been painful, having that sprayed in your face. You had such enticing eyes. Little emerald beauties. But so are the spoils of my profession. You could regain your sight, but you won't be alive long enough for that to happen.”

Alice attempted another scream, but still, nothing came out. A low chuckle filled the air, his laughter made Alice shiver. He crouched beside her and she felt his breath on her ear. “You will die; I will kill you.” His whispered threat floated through Alice's ears, tickling her fear into full blown terror. She thrashed around, grabbing the air while her hands were still free. She wanted to choke the smile off of his face, but instead felt her nails dig into skin.

“Enough of that!” he growled. Grabbing her hands with one rapid movement, he lashed her wrists together with a zip tie. “You seem to be anxious to get this over with. I have to admit, I'm a little excited too.” She heard the scrape of a blade against a rock. 
She howled inside, knowing her fate was becoming a reality. Alice felt him undo her coat, the zipper letting out her soul. He threw the coat off to her side, leaving only her thin blouse between her and the snow. The knife slid up the front of her shirt, slicing it in two. The piercing cold air circled around her body, her smooth skin giving way to goosebumps. Her nipples raised, peeking through her bra. He purred with pleasure. He cut the threads connected in the middle, and she felt the icy touch of his hands on her. 
“So delicate.” He scraped the edge of the knife across her chest. “So soft.” Alice sat very still, afraid that any movement might take her closer to the end. “I can smell your warmth.” He placed his fingertips on her neck. “I can feel your heart beating. Alive.” 

He brushed his lips across her cheek. He whispered again, “Are you ready, Alice?” He readied the tip of the knife on her chest. 
The last thing Alice felt was his lips on hers as the knife plunged through her heart. 


01 February 2012

Insecure Writer's Support Group (1)

"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all."
-Sam Ewing

Today I am participating in the Insecure Writer's Support Group from Alex J. Cavanaugh and his blog.  There are so many people participating!!  There must be a lot of insecurity - which is comforting.  I'm not alone!

My insecurity today lies in my ability to finish my writing.  The quote above outlines what I've been going through.  I know I want to turn up my sleeves and write, but I fall into the "don't turn up at all" category most of the time.  I always have the question, "How do you stay motivated?" and there are hundreds of books and articles about how to curb writer's block and advice to "just write everyday" or "only write when you feel like it".  There is so much advice out there I'm not sure what will work for me.

So far, the "write when you're in the mood" hasn't worked.  I've written 18K words toward a story that I absolutely HAVE to finish - it's not letting me write anything else.  I'm struggling to just get words to flow.

I know that my inability to write consistently stems from my insecurities about the quality of what I'm writing.  But HOW do I get past this?

I'd like to, for once, meet a confident writer.  Who are you and can we have some coffee and a talk?

"For me, every day is a new thing. I approach each project with a new insecurity, almost like the first project I ever did. And I get the sweats. I go in and start working, I'm not sure where I'm going. If I knew where I was going I wouldn't do it."
-Frank Gehry

Would I write if I had no insecurity about myself and my writing?  If I had nothing to get out of my head?  Probably not.  Maybe insecurity can be a good thing sometimes.  Always being sure of yourself can be dangerous.

Thanks for reading.


Hit Counter

hit counter

Sample Text