yeah, yeah, i read romance novels. i've read them for years. i follow some of my favorite authors on twitter. i'm number 200-something on the library's waiting list for a book that doesn't come out until damn near thanksgiving. judge me all you want.
[note: the rest of this post will have all kinds of triggers about sexual assault/abuse, so if this is a sensitive topic for you, please stop reading now. kthx.]
i've been reading a romance series by susan mallery and, much to my delight, there have been some new titles this summer. i finally got my copy of the most recent one, "all summer long," last week from the library and started reading it a couple of days ago. normally, i can get through a romance novel in a couple of hours, tops, and in even less time if i'm able to read cover-to-cover w/o being interrupted.
this one, though, took me a while to get through. not because it's a bad novel, but b/c the struggles of the main female character brought back a lot of memories/issues. once upon a time, i wrote about some "bad touching" that happened to me when i was 8 or 9, and how i'd repressed that memory until i was in high school, and how the husband of my then-favorite cousin decided it'd be a good idea for us to watch some pr0n when i was 16 and while his wife and sons were in the other room, and how i ran out of the room and locked myself in the bathroom for as long as possible and how i didn't tell anyone in my family b/c i knew daddy or james or any other male relative would've done time for (attempted) murder even though i'm sure someone must've figured out something b/c i never ever went to that cousin's house again.
ok, so maybe i didn't previously write about that last part.
anyway (consider this a spoiler alert if you actually plan on reading this book), charlie, our heroine, was raped in college and has had a challenging time establishing intimacy. i'll spare you the details, but the process she goes through definitely has some parallels to what i went through (and at times still go through). it's heartbreaking and ultimately gratifying, to say the least. i can't tell you the last time i cried while reading a romance novel, but i definitely shed a few tears over this one.
i am so very thankful to susan (hey, i follow her on twitter, so i feel like i can be on a first name basis even though we've never met irl) for treating this subject with dignity and respect. if i was inclined to write reviews on amazon, i'd post this there, but i'm not and therefore it's here. susan, if you somehow manage to read this, please know that i've been a fan of yours for a few years now and i will be forever grateful to you for sharing charlie's story in such a powerful way. thank you.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
books that have left me reeling - summer 2012 edition
it's no secret to anyone that i like to read. a lot. there's a book club/contest thing going on at work this summer and more than one person has dropped out after seeing just how many books (and accompanying points) i've added to my list since i started.
according to my spreadsheet, i've read 98 books so far in 2012. most of them were pretty uneventful. a few nonfiction ones introduced me to events/historical information i wasn't previously aware of. two novels in particular, though, made me ask some variation of "what the fuck?" and/or "are you fucking serious?" at least a dozen times while reading them, and i'm going to share those titles with you now.
the first: "gold" by chris cleave. i remember alternating between laughing hysterically at one page and within that same chapter, wanting to throw the book across the room and scream "what the fuck is going on?" not in a bad way, mind you - more in a "did this guy (meaning the author) really put these words in this order and omg i can't believe s/he (meaning a particular character) went there and i think my brain is going to asplode" kind of way. i like books that have that kind of impact on me.
i just finished reading the 2nd book, gillian flynn's "gone girl," a few minutes ago. oh my fucking fuck this fucking book is so fucking twisted that it fucking makes me want to say (ok, type) the word fuck in as many fucking ways as fucking possible in one fucking sentence. a couple of people on my twitter feed have read this and noted that it was definitely not a sunshine and kittens and lollipops kind of beach novel. i'm not exaggerating when i say that there are hundreds of people waiting to get this book from the library. last i checked, the wait list was at 1,500+ and counting. if i had to put money on it, i'd say that i've checked out and returned more copies of "gone girl" than any other book since i started at the library. and now i know what the fuss has been about. holy fucking shitballs. these characters are twisted and i kinda want a sequel even though no good can come of it whatsoever. and in about 9 hours, i'll be at work and my co-workers will want a review and i'll have to think of a sentence that doesn't involve the word fuck. i'll probably fail. fuck.
meanwhile, somewhere in my "waiting to be read" pile there's a book called zombies vs. unicorns. yes, i checked it out solely based on the title. i hope i'm not disappointed.
if you've read "gold" and/or "gone girl," please feel free to leave your proverbial two cents in the comments. read any other books lately that elicited a visceral reaction from you? let's talk about those, too. not right now, though. right now i need to go the fuck to sleep. g'night.
according to my spreadsheet, i've read 98 books so far in 2012. most of them were pretty uneventful. a few nonfiction ones introduced me to events/historical information i wasn't previously aware of. two novels in particular, though, made me ask some variation of "what the fuck?" and/or "are you fucking serious?" at least a dozen times while reading them, and i'm going to share those titles with you now.
the first: "gold" by chris cleave. i remember alternating between laughing hysterically at one page and within that same chapter, wanting to throw the book across the room and scream "what the fuck is going on?" not in a bad way, mind you - more in a "did this guy (meaning the author) really put these words in this order and omg i can't believe s/he (meaning a particular character) went there and i think my brain is going to asplode" kind of way. i like books that have that kind of impact on me.
i just finished reading the 2nd book, gillian flynn's "gone girl," a few minutes ago. oh my fucking fuck this fucking book is so fucking twisted that it fucking makes me want to say (ok, type) the word fuck in as many fucking ways as fucking possible in one fucking sentence. a couple of people on my twitter feed have read this and noted that it was definitely not a sunshine and kittens and lollipops kind of beach novel. i'm not exaggerating when i say that there are hundreds of people waiting to get this book from the library. last i checked, the wait list was at 1,500+ and counting. if i had to put money on it, i'd say that i've checked out and returned more copies of "gone girl" than any other book since i started at the library. and now i know what the fuss has been about. holy fucking shitballs. these characters are twisted and i kinda want a sequel even though no good can come of it whatsoever. and in about 9 hours, i'll be at work and my co-workers will want a review and i'll have to think of a sentence that doesn't involve the word fuck. i'll probably fail. fuck.
meanwhile, somewhere in my "waiting to be read" pile there's a book called zombies vs. unicorns. yes, i checked it out solely based on the title. i hope i'm not disappointed.
if you've read "gold" and/or "gone girl," please feel free to leave your proverbial two cents in the comments. read any other books lately that elicited a visceral reaction from you? let's talk about those, too. not right now, though. right now i need to go the fuck to sleep. g'night.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
happy birthday, baby brother
james would have been 50 years old today. i know it's a bit odd to refer to him as my baby brother, considering that he was 14 years old when i was born, but that's kind of how i grew up thinking of him and therefore that's what sticks. lots of things stick when i look back on the admittedly complicated relationship james and i had. i'm going to share a few of them in this post and hopefully not dissolve into tears when i click "publish." i think (hope?) these will be new to y'all; if not, pretend like they are, mmkay?
cake batter -- the memories i have of my mother are relatively few and i cherish them more than...damn near anything, really. one of them involved her making a cake and me sneaking a taste from the bowl of batter. innocent enough, right? i couldn't wait to lick the spoon or the beaters from the mixer, b/c i was all of 4 or 5 and the concept of patience was lost on me, so i'd dip my finger(s) in the batter. usually i was somehow able to do this without getting busted, which, in hindsight, probably meant that mama was just choosing to overlook the breach.
not this time, though. this time, i'd forgotten that i was in the middle of a massive coloring project when i snuck a taste. i had marker ink all over my fingers and, yes, that ink somehow transferred into the cake batter. did i know this? nope. did i lie when mama asked if i'd put my fingers in the batter? absolutely. did i get called into the kitchen to be confronted with the evidence of my crime, only to be banished to my room to await my punishment? yup.
enter james. he somehow thought that i could convince our dear mother to spare the rod if i apologized. specifically, he thought if i wrote/drew her a letter saying that i was sorry and asking her not to whoop me, i might get off the hook. laughable now, but y'all know i sat right down and wrote my mother a letter anyway. i think it went something like "dear mama, i'm sorry, please don't whoop me, i love you."
yeah, mama whooped me anyway. i don't think james got off scot-free, either. but i love(d) the fact that he tried to help a sister out.
din da da
the first time i heard this song, i was in the kitchen at our old house. james' room was just off the kitchen and he was playing it. i don't know if it was on the radio or if he'd taped it or what, but i have this really vivid memory of looking in the fridge for something and being completely distracted by what i was hearing. again in hindsight, it was probably b/c this song was way different than the gospel that mama and daddy tended to listen to. on the flip side, james (and greg, and sylvester) also introduced me to smooth jazz (shoutout to wnua 95.5), and i'm reasonably sure that the first time i heard digital underground's "freaks of the industry" was on the radio in james' car. the internet says that "freaks of the industry" was released in 1990, so i was in high school by then and therefore not as impressionable as i could have been, i suppose.
space invaders -- when i was at the arcade the other night, i was all set to relive my childhood by playing duck hunt and shooting the shit out of that asshole dog, and i did, and that was fun. but then i saw space invaders, aka one of the first video games i learned how to play, and i got really excited...until i realized it was broken. womp. and yeah, james had an atari and i'd play space invaders and centipede for as long as he'd let me. before the other night, i hadn't played centipede in...god, at least a decade, if not longer. same goes for duck hunt, and yes, i shot at the dog a bazillion times. i hate that dog. i'm pretty sure everyone who's ever played duck hunt hates that dog. that dog can suck it.
to say that i miss having james around would be an understatement. wait. let me rephrase that. to say that i miss being able to call/email/see/talk to james in person would be an understatement. his spirit's still around, kinda like how my parents' spirits are around. there are still certain quasi-distant relatives of mine who have a hard time looking me in my face b/c i remind them so much of james. sorry, y'all. can't really do anything about that. james & i are our mother's children, after all, and we both look like slightly darker versions of her. funny how no one asks how i feel when i look in the mirror sometimes and see james' face or my mother's face.
but this isn't about me. well, it is, kinda, but you know what i mean. it's about remembering my "baby" brother and some of the cool stuff he taught me/introduced me to. it's also about trying not to freak out over the fact that james would've been 50 and i'll be 36 in december and holy crap i am so old and why is time going so fast, etc.
if heaven exists, i hope that today, james gets to eat all of his favorite foods and listen to all of his favorite music while shooting the shit with the angels/spirits of his choosing. i mean, it should be like that every day in heaven as far as i'm concerned, but i don't make the rules. :P
cake batter -- the memories i have of my mother are relatively few and i cherish them more than...damn near anything, really. one of them involved her making a cake and me sneaking a taste from the bowl of batter. innocent enough, right? i couldn't wait to lick the spoon or the beaters from the mixer, b/c i was all of 4 or 5 and the concept of patience was lost on me, so i'd dip my finger(s) in the batter. usually i was somehow able to do this without getting busted, which, in hindsight, probably meant that mama was just choosing to overlook the breach.
not this time, though. this time, i'd forgotten that i was in the middle of a massive coloring project when i snuck a taste. i had marker ink all over my fingers and, yes, that ink somehow transferred into the cake batter. did i know this? nope. did i lie when mama asked if i'd put my fingers in the batter? absolutely. did i get called into the kitchen to be confronted with the evidence of my crime, only to be banished to my room to await my punishment? yup.
enter james. he somehow thought that i could convince our dear mother to spare the rod if i apologized. specifically, he thought if i wrote/drew her a letter saying that i was sorry and asking her not to whoop me, i might get off the hook. laughable now, but y'all know i sat right down and wrote my mother a letter anyway. i think it went something like "dear mama, i'm sorry, please don't whoop me, i love you."
yeah, mama whooped me anyway. i don't think james got off scot-free, either. but i love(d) the fact that he tried to help a sister out.
din da da
the first time i heard this song, i was in the kitchen at our old house. james' room was just off the kitchen and he was playing it. i don't know if it was on the radio or if he'd taped it or what, but i have this really vivid memory of looking in the fridge for something and being completely distracted by what i was hearing. again in hindsight, it was probably b/c this song was way different than the gospel that mama and daddy tended to listen to. on the flip side, james (and greg, and sylvester) also introduced me to smooth jazz (shoutout to wnua 95.5), and i'm reasonably sure that the first time i heard digital underground's "freaks of the industry" was on the radio in james' car. the internet says that "freaks of the industry" was released in 1990, so i was in high school by then and therefore not as impressionable as i could have been, i suppose.
space invaders -- when i was at the arcade the other night, i was all set to relive my childhood by playing duck hunt and shooting the shit out of that asshole dog, and i did, and that was fun. but then i saw space invaders, aka one of the first video games i learned how to play, and i got really excited...until i realized it was broken. womp. and yeah, james had an atari and i'd play space invaders and centipede for as long as he'd let me. before the other night, i hadn't played centipede in...god, at least a decade, if not longer. same goes for duck hunt, and yes, i shot at the dog a bazillion times. i hate that dog. i'm pretty sure everyone who's ever played duck hunt hates that dog. that dog can suck it.
to say that i miss having james around would be an understatement. wait. let me rephrase that. to say that i miss being able to call/email/see/talk to james in person would be an understatement. his spirit's still around, kinda like how my parents' spirits are around. there are still certain quasi-distant relatives of mine who have a hard time looking me in my face b/c i remind them so much of james. sorry, y'all. can't really do anything about that. james & i are our mother's children, after all, and we both look like slightly darker versions of her. funny how no one asks how i feel when i look in the mirror sometimes and see james' face or my mother's face.
but this isn't about me. well, it is, kinda, but you know what i mean. it's about remembering my "baby" brother and some of the cool stuff he taught me/introduced me to. it's also about trying not to freak out over the fact that james would've been 50 and i'll be 36 in december and holy crap i am so old and why is time going so fast, etc.
if heaven exists, i hope that today, james gets to eat all of his favorite foods and listen to all of his favorite music while shooting the shit with the angels/spirits of his choosing. i mean, it should be like that every day in heaven as far as i'm concerned, but i don't make the rules. :P
Saturday, August 11, 2012
an ode to chronicbabe
i no longer remember when i signed up for chronicbabe's newsletters. no, i don't have a chronic illness (*knocks on wood*), but i still read them and every now and then, i get something valuable out of them. like this one:
Just because we're sick and need help - lots of it, sometimes - doesn't mean we have to spend our days begging forgiveness and bowing down in gratitude for every assist. BUT we need to thank the people who help us.
and y'all know i try to keep an attitude of gratitude going whenever possible, right? even on those days when, frankly, i'd love nothing more than to curl up in a ball and drown my sorrows in a bottle of tequila, i try to find at least one thing or person to be thankful for. not saying it instantly cures my mood, but it helps put things in perspective for me, and that's usually all i need in that moment.
with that said - if i haven't publicly said thank you in a while, consider this a big giant public thanks for...well, everything. i'm not gonna name names or list specific things b/c i know i'd forget something or someone and no one wants that. so, thank you. a lot. y'all rock and i'd rather not picture my life without you in it b/c i would have all of the sadness.
oh, and go check out chronicbabe's site and sign up for her newsletter and/or twitter feed if you're so inclined. :-)
Just because we're sick and need help - lots of it, sometimes - doesn't mean we have to spend our days begging forgiveness and bowing down in gratitude for every assist. BUT we need to thank the people who help us.
Someone open a door for you? Say thanks. A friend cooked you dinner? Say thanks. The newspaper delivery person always makes sure your paper makes it onto your porch? Say thanks. See a military member coming home at the airport? Say thanks. Doctor give you some good advice? Say thanks. Sprinkle thanks like confetti. Like glitter. Like sprinkles on a cupcake. Fling it around.
Say thanks. Do it. It's so easy. So many people do so many good things for us every day, and many of them never ask for a thing in return. But you can give them something vitally important: gratitude. Especially when you have nothing left to give, gratitude still means a great deal. And just like we need help sometimes, the folks who love us and care for us need to know we care. Sometimes saying thanks is all it takes.
and y'all know i try to keep an attitude of gratitude going whenever possible, right? even on those days when, frankly, i'd love nothing more than to curl up in a ball and drown my sorrows in a bottle of tequila, i try to find at least one thing or person to be thankful for. not saying it instantly cures my mood, but it helps put things in perspective for me, and that's usually all i need in that moment.
with that said - if i haven't publicly said thank you in a while, consider this a big giant public thanks for...well, everything. i'm not gonna name names or list specific things b/c i know i'd forget something or someone and no one wants that. so, thank you. a lot. y'all rock and i'd rather not picture my life without you in it b/c i would have all of the sadness.
oh, and go check out chronicbabe's site and sign up for her newsletter and/or twitter feed if you're so inclined. :-)
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
"wow, that dream was weird. i should blog about it!"
that was one of the first thoughts i had this morning, after my initial "holy shit it's august!" panic moment and before i managed to get in the shower and finish waking up. in all honesty, though, i should note that i'm using "weird" in that lazy/can't think of another adjective kind of way, so if you're afraid of what you're about to read, don't be. :P
here's what i remember: i was at some sort of church or auditorium or some other large space because i'd been pressed into service at someone's wedding. not as an usher or behind-the-scenes type of person, but an attendant. someone (i'm still trying to figure out the identity of this person - you'll see why as this continues) thought it would be a good idea to set me up on a blind date of sorts with some dude who was also at this wedding.
not a bad thought as far as thoughts go, right? here's where things get "weird," though - this dude and i had nothing in common. he didn't like reading, he didn't like sports, he wasn't really into food or plays or music or any of the myriad things i like checking out when i have time and money to do so...and he wasn't attractive, either. thankfully, we both realized the distinct lack of a love connection and went our separate ways.
later at that wedding, someone else (seriously, i need to figure out who these people are irl and smack them) asked how my conversation with dude i wouldn't even want to be friends with went, and after i told them, they went on a mini-rant about how women my age can't be picky and if i ever wanted to have kids i needed to get it together, etc.
so, yeah. longest.wedding.ever. did i mention that one of my brothers was also an attendant, and he walked down the aisle holding his suit jacket behind him with his fingers instead of actually wearing it? and that all of us just walked down the aisle as opposed to marching in time with any music or anything? and that i have no idea who was actually getting married?
later in that dream (let's assume this wasn't the same day as the wedding, but i really don't know), a couple of my favorite guy friends picked me up and surprised me with a trip to a bar i hadn't been to before, where we were served beer and 25-cent wings, and all was well.
told you it was "weird." also, i think i might order wings for dinner tonight, b/c, well, why not? :P
here's what i remember: i was at some sort of church or auditorium or some other large space because i'd been pressed into service at someone's wedding. not as an usher or behind-the-scenes type of person, but an attendant. someone (i'm still trying to figure out the identity of this person - you'll see why as this continues) thought it would be a good idea to set me up on a blind date of sorts with some dude who was also at this wedding.
not a bad thought as far as thoughts go, right? here's where things get "weird," though - this dude and i had nothing in common. he didn't like reading, he didn't like sports, he wasn't really into food or plays or music or any of the myriad things i like checking out when i have time and money to do so...and he wasn't attractive, either. thankfully, we both realized the distinct lack of a love connection and went our separate ways.
later at that wedding, someone else (seriously, i need to figure out who these people are irl and smack them) asked how my conversation with dude i wouldn't even want to be friends with went, and after i told them, they went on a mini-rant about how women my age can't be picky and if i ever wanted to have kids i needed to get it together, etc.
so, yeah. longest.wedding.ever. did i mention that one of my brothers was also an attendant, and he walked down the aisle holding his suit jacket behind him with his fingers instead of actually wearing it? and that all of us just walked down the aisle as opposed to marching in time with any music or anything? and that i have no idea who was actually getting married?
later in that dream (let's assume this wasn't the same day as the wedding, but i really don't know), a couple of my favorite guy friends picked me up and surprised me with a trip to a bar i hadn't been to before, where we were served beer and 25-cent wings, and all was well.
told you it was "weird." also, i think i might order wings for dinner tonight, b/c, well, why not? :P
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