Inspiration VS. Desperation

      In a conversation with a friend over a month ago, on a particularly rough day for myself, my friend explained a theory to me that I had never heard. Since then, in almost every situation I've begun to take a pause and ask myself, what division of choice am I standing on at the moment.

       It was explained to me, that in every single thing a human does, taking it beyond the steps of basic needs and survival mode to the intellectual travel of things, we all do things based on inspiration or desperation.

       Essentially, every single solitary thing we do in every single solitary moment of our days, we are motivated by either inspiration or desperation, it's basic human nature.

       Now, at first I was a bit reluctant to buy into this theory. Because it seemed or sounded, like basing your days teeter tottering between inspiration and desperation appeared almost medieval like. But the more I thought about it, and the more I incorporated it into my daily choice making, the more it made clarifying sense.

       For example, today I was inspired to take the day off work, there wasn't anything desperate happening at work so that factor being gone, made inspiration easy. On the flip side, if something was pressing at work, I would have made a non-inspired but rather desperation decision to get crap taken care of and gone to work.

       I felt inspired to write this entry, and was not just desperate for something to do on my day off. I was desperate for a Diet Coke an hour ago and went to the convenience store to buy one. I was inspired to pick up and clean my home this morning, but I can say if someone had called and said they were coming over in 45 minutes I would have been desperately running around my home cleaning before they got here.

       I am both inspired and desperate to pay my bills on time every month. Inspired not to have late bills in the mail and desperate to keep my credit nice and clean for fear of not financing something in the future if I needed it. I'm calling it all give and take of emotional thought and motivation.

       I am a master procrastinator.I have a problem, and this is my first admission, part of my 5 step plan, admission first. I realized when I applied this theory to my procrastination, that I am an abusive desperation user when it comes to this. Us procrastinators are not typically inspired to do things at our convenience, nope, we last minute people thrive on the power of desperation to get crap done in minimal amount of time to keep our noses clean.

       Now, the part thats been keeping my mind in working overtime, is thinking back over my life, to choices I made and the repercussions involved with my choices. I have to say, without a doubt, the majority of the choices I made that were wrong, were made out of desperation rather then inspiration. Thats a rather scary revelation.

       I write, a lot. All of my writing is based on inspiration and desperation. Sometimes I am inspired to write about something I am thinking about, mulling around and just juggling around in my mind <like this entry> and sometimes, I am desperate to get the louder then hell, mixed up mumble jumble out of my brain. I imagine if you've read my journal for a while, you could see the difference between my entries. One's written out of inspiration and the ones written out of desperation.

       I turned down my big bucks job offer. When I had applied this theory to my choice, I discovered a few things. One, I was not desperate for the money. Two I was not inspired by the power, money, or the position. I was not desperate enough to give up my life, but I was inspired to KEEP my current freedoms and independence. I was not in a desperate position when it was offered to me, and the perks were not inspiration enough to give up what I already have. Choice then was unbelievably easy. I choose to keep what I've already, between inspiration and desperation, built all on my own. My inspiration was in my current work, not another.

       Today I am inspired to take my daughters fishing after school. I am feeling rather desperate for some crisp fresh air. Thats the beauty of inspiration and desperation. They can both be beautiful things. Another one of those things, we can't have one without the other....................just something to think about~~

Ah Ha gone Flat

       So this is the scenario. I paused again to watch TV, Oprah to be exact, and again, I'm reminding myself why I don't typically watch TV~at all~ I believe the episode was about mistakes people have made. Well, mistakes are part of life, so I was all set to be washed over by the wisdom that surely would be garnered from these peoples mistakes, Oprah ah ha style.

       Instead, by the end of the show I was distinctively put 'off,'' irritated and disgusted. The case in point and source of my disgust. A family thrown in legal, financial, and woe is me turmoil over their own choices.......One of their sons was turning 16, so for the sweet sixteen birthday bash they hired a stipper/prostitute for their son and a dozen or so of his friends.

       Now, when I think birthday stripper, I envision a woman marching in, all costumed up in a police uniform with Velcro down the sides, in which she'll pretend for about 10 seconds she's a cop, then with a yank of feminine toughness she'll rip off her uniform to a bikini top and probably a G-string, Still not entirely appropriate for a 16 year old birthday bash, but at least well, you know. Then she would dance for 15 minutes and leave.

       Evidently the birthday strippers in other parts of the country do a bit more. She was topless to start and ended up completely naked. Now upon complete nudity, the Mother who insisted she do this for her son left the room, as she said, "I didn't want to see that." Now, with camera in hand, the boys had a jolly good time with said nude stripper. <with Dad of the Year still watching on> Some rather explicit touching, etc., happened, all captured by camera. Use your imagination here.

       Fast forward to Mother of the Year marching into Walgreens to develop the film, requesting it be sent away for development, 'to spare the boys embarrassment' as she so candidly put. Two hours later, she and her husband are arrested. She was pissed at Walgreens for turning her in, to which I say, Welcome to the real world lady.

       Anyway, my real source of irritation came from the shift of blame this situation was given. Instead of pointing the finger at irresponsible parents, ignorant and plain stupidity, their choice to do this, their repercussions were blamed on society in the US. Evidently, if you do something as stupid and idiotic as what those parents did, you just pull out the society blame card. In my world I'd call that mighty damn convenient and cowardly.

       The Mother kept saying she didn't see anything wrong with what she did. Saying things like 'all those boys have seen it on TV and know all about the woman body, I was just trying to show them a good time where I could supervise' To that I say, all right, true, it is on TV, but thats a wee bit different then having a stripper shoving the real deal in their young faces. The Father on the other hand, sounded like he was reluctant from the start, beginning, during and after. Remorse at least showed in his words and face. He had that deer in the headlights look on the show, and I could imagine him having it through the entire ordeal. Evidently he is both missing a brain and a backbone.

       I kept waiting for two things, one, the Mother to say something other then 'I really wish I hadn't taken the film to Walgreens and I don't see what I did wrong' and the other, I kept waiting for Oprah to perform a smack down. Instead, Oprah shoved the responsibility and blame on society. To which I say, bullshit, I'm not taking responsibility for what seems a rather black and white decision. To hire a nude stripper for my son, 15 years old turning 16, or not, that is the question...........and I say not in my lifetime.

       Yes, I agree, we are all rather desensitized to many things. Yes, I agree it's hard being a parent and waging a war daily on all the things that are inappropriate for our children. But if I make a choice for my children, I can assure it's not based on what I think society is good with letting slide. I make it based on what I know, think, and believe is correct for them. If I make a wrong choice, I need to stand up and admit it, not pass the buck off on some other convenient excuse.

       Perhaps desensitize isn't the problem with society. Just maybe the problem is no one wants to take responsibility for their actions. It's much easier to pass the blame on to a society, childhood, parents, husband, wife, friend, work, you name it, someone has blamed it for their screw ups. I am really tired of the blame game. People become acceptant with what is told over and over is justthe way things are, maybe it's time for people with a voice and a choice to make a little racket.

       The parents who think the only way the kiddoes will like them is to be on friend level, status fun and no limitations, are the ones that make being an acutual parent with rules a mission true fortitude is needed.

       I am tired of battling against what other parents do with their children in my own world. I'm tired of being the tough Mom who says no darling 13, soon to be 14 year old daughter, you cannot dress like a teenage slut even if so and so's Mom lets her do it. Imagine the precedence the parents of the stipper/16 yr. old boy had to deal with after that party.

Teenage boy: But Mom, so and so had a stripper for his birthday and we all got a rather up close and personal anatomy class and had a grand time, a movie for my birthday will be so BORING

Teenage boys Responsible Mom: I'm still trying to figure a way out to kick that Moms ass for doing that, and no, you are not having a nude stripper for your birthday, but I'll hire a clown if that makes you happy.

Being a parent is such fun~

Pain in the Ear, and Foot

 Is it just awful to admit I am hiding in my office because it's music practice time in my house and well, sometimes it's enough to make a person grind their teeth. For that matter, how I ended up with two daughters, that are both drummers is beyond me. I believe this is what you call hindsight of Motherhood.

       My eldest daughter is a tenor drummer. Thats some fancy shmancy drumming with a fine visual handwork thrown into the mix. My younger daughter is a snare drummer and well, you know, it's fun <in a loud sort of way> I am delighted they are both avid music lovers and do believe it will benefit them for years and years to come. And on that note, I will sigh with tolerant ears, and smile with Motherhood satisfaction <plus earplugs> and love music days as I should. Repeat as necessary...........

       I put a nail through my foot today. Thats always a surprising feeling and sensation, and moment in a persons day. Straight through the New Balance tennis shoes, straight into the delicate arch of my foot. Once the nail had impaled through the many layers it had to go through to imbed itself into my foot I knew I had issues. The body is really a nice little device to make things not hurt while it happens, but first let the thoughts truly penetrate a mind.........."There is a nail through my foot"........before letting the pain sink in.

       That is what I get for not sticking to good running trails and instead heading through thick undergrowth and unknown trailways. So, once the realization sets in, one must promptly sit down and take a look at the small board firmly attached to the bottom of ones foot. I did that. Didn't really enjoy it either. But since I didn't feel like walking out with a board attached to my foot, and I really didn't want to wait for a search crew, I did the horrendous thing, pulled it out on my own.

       Once something like that is pulled out, then well, the mind really goes to town. I decided it wouldn't do me any good to take my shoe and sock off to assess the damage. All I wanted was the safety of my car. I'll spare the details, but let me tell you, it was a long hop and limp the whole way, complete with unmentionable sensations in my foot. Actually, I'll spare all the rest of the details, except the damn thing landed me a nice tetnusshot and that tickled about as much as the nail in my foot did.

       My doctor has been with me since I was 20. He thinks I should have bubble wrap permanently wrapped around my body. The size of my medical file is the equivalent of 3 full size trees. When I come across people who say they have never broken a bone, or seen a doctor for anything other then a cold, I find myself astounded and wondering how is that possible??? How does one make it through life without multiple injuries? So that either makes me a klutz who should be wearing a proceed with caution sign, or someone who continually puts themselves in the path of possible danger. I'm not sure which one is the appropriate characteristic. I suppose, both...........

       All right, enough hiding, I must go limp into the front room to smile, encourage and enjoy the sounds of drums pounding in my ears. I wish everyone a safe and secure day!

Nip and Tuck

Body Image and Possibilities.

At the encouragement of a few friends, I tuned in my TV to a show called Dr. 90210 this evening and well, it's got me thinking.

Body image and the woman's perspective on what we look like vs. what we REALLY look like, vs. what society wishes we looked like, vs. what we can potentially look like has me wondering just how bad is it really?

There is a body part I wish to change. I make no secret of this. It's a wish and a thought I've harbored since about the age of 15 when I realized I was far behind in the frontal growth race. Lacking a certain feminine trait isn't easy. To understand this, and to really know what this feels like, you would have to be one of the woman who can shop in the training section of a department store. If you've graduated past the training section, then I can assure you, saying 'having them is no big deal' or 'I wish I was smaller' or even 'you look fine the way you are' is no consolation. I assure you, I've heard them all and they still don't take me out of the training department or make me feel better.

The array of woman in the show this evening had me fascinated. One, was addicted to plastic surgery, needed a seemingly perfection. That one, looked plastic, looked fake and at the ripe age of 35 I thought she looked far older then me and my friends. She, in my humble opinion, looked horrid. A perfect example of too much of any one thing is a bad thing. <I have to mention, she was a porn star, or as she said so correctly, adult film star>

The next was a woman who was overweight, and felt uncomfortable in her skin. A weight issue she had battled since she was little. This one is rather difficult for me to give opinion or thought on. For me personally, I've never really had an issue with weight, and at times when I've felt my personal weight creep past the size of my jeans, I cut back and usually it comes off easily. I know this isn't the case for many woman. So for me to sit back and say, "Stop eating so much and exercise" is a bit like someone saying to me "Your chest is fine, you don't need out of the training department"    An image opinion based on something neither woman can change easily, but something that bothers each woman independently and on it's own terms. Both are body concerns, just on seperate subjects.

The last person on the show, was a young female, 17 years old, going in for a breast augmentation. At first I recoiled at her age, and even questioned her Mothers choice to support her for such a surgery. But then, it sunk in, all the things she was saying. All things I've said to friends and my own Mother since I was a teen. I have no doubt that if I could go back to 17 and have such a surgery, I would do it in a heartbeat. Ouch................

I know that isn't what a person should say, or support, but I'm being honest here. I have no delusions about body image and that people should be happy with what they got. Love themselves from the inside out. Blah Blah Blah and all the politically correct things one should say. I'm good with all of that. I really am. I do like my body, I love my inner workings and at the age of 33 feel quite comfortable in my body, know how to work it and enhance the pluses and hide the negatives. I just wish, even to this day, every single time I try on a shirt, or head to the lingerie department, that I was given a bit more of one of the obvious attributes a woman is supposed to possess.

So I wonder, if given the guilt free bankroll, and the opportunity, just how many woman would sign up for a little tune up? Modification? Enhancement? Is it really so bad that things like that are hush hush talk, things to be denied and never spoken of? I'm not talking about the type of woman who goes in for a tune up every single year. Or the woman who is stripping at the local mens club and needs to maintain the body of a 18 year old. Playboy bunnies are out of this equation too. I might as well throw in porn stars and movie stars, they don't count on this journal entry.

I'm talking regular normal every day woman, mommies, wife's, ladies of the real world.

I know to admit one would do such a thing can instantly bring forth the thoughts that a person isn't happy, has no self esteem, and every other politely, emotionally unstable, correct question. But, our bodies are something we live with day in and day out and if something makes a person truly unhappy, and the opportunity to change it is there, should a person do it?

To modify something on a persons body, after careful consideration, or something that just makes a person unhappy, is this really a bad thing?

I know, it's a taboo topic, but I figure, why not bring it up ~ ~
This is what I get for actually watching TV~

Adulthood is Over ~ Rated

       
       This weekend I've had a bit of a heavy choice on my mind. Unfortunately it doesn't have anything to do with all the things I am normally stewing about. This one has to do with adulthood nature, job, work, the workline, money, and commitments. The rat race basically.

       I was sat down on Friday and offered a position, job, enslavement opportunity that carried a lot of zero's after the first number which wasn't a low number either. I was to be honest, in awe of the magnitude of the numbers and salary. I was honored and humbled that I was being given such an opportunity out of the blue and I believe, if I was given this chance 5 years ago I would have jumped, head first, with reckless abandon into such a financial windfall.

       Amazing what time and perspective will do to a person. I left the meeting without giving a commitment. I think the people involved were disappointed by my lack of drooling and signing of the dotted line. I told them I needed to 'think' before I said yes. They have given me until Tuesday. Tick Tock, time is counting down.

       I know I don't provide a lot of personal details in this journal, but simply put, I am currently self employed. I've built a decent client base, self slaved, self made, business.  I make enough money already that I don't need for things, or worry about money. I am quite comfortable where I am at this stage of the game, more then comfortable considering other financial places I've been in my life. I certainly know what it's like to count pennies until the next paycheck and eat ramon noodles as a mainstay for dinner. Been there, never want to go back, thank you very much.

       This actual, real live job, I've been proposed with, would have me going back to being a full time employee, responsible to others directly, accountable day in and day out, long hours, responsible for others under my direction, etc etc.......freedoms to stop and flyfish during the day in my business suit, gone. Freedoms to take a quick 10 day sabbatical gone.......freedoms to sleep in, or work from home, gone. Gone Gone Gone, all the liberties I'm very accustomed too, gone with a sign of a signature.

       So this weekend I've been weighing in the pro's and con's. It seems, money is the only factor, the only bonus to giving up everything I've built to this day. Is a number plus 5 zero's really worth it?? The question seems to me, is how much money does a person really need to have?

       Sure, a decent house is a nice result of a paycheck. A car or two, is the result of money. Clothes, boats, artwork, etc etc, all material things. Money, is the result of working, working is a reality of adulthood, adulthood is rather overrated.

       When I think back to when I was a child, I wonder what it was I was so looking forward to being an adult. I can remember thinking "when I'm an adult I'll buy as many boxes of Lucky Charms cereal as I want" and things like "when I'm an adult I will be so independent and FREE."

       There's a hefty monetary price that comes with adulthood. No one seems to mention that little footnote when they are saying "you can be anything you want when you grow up." Meaning, you can be anything you want, but no matter how you slice it and dice it, you're getting a job to pay the bills little one.

       I hate second guessing my choices, especially one like this. The money, would be nice. But I'm really starting to believe the price tag of time, commitment and responsibilities that come with that check are completely out of whack with what I've been striving for over the last few years. Time freedom.

       My perspectives have really changed over the years. I would like to think they have changed for the better. I used to think money would solve many many things. What I've discovered is that money relieves some stresses. It is good to know you have the money to pay the bills and you won't receive the obnoxious letters in the mail with a big old delinquent stamped across the top for the mailman to see. Money is also an empty substitute for the things I've found I'd rather have. Comfort, contentment, time, relationships, family and ME......

       Money is a necessary evil, thats pretty much a given. I suppose I'm in a position today to decide whether more money is worth the sacrifices, or is enough money just right to maintain and enjoy the things I've already grow accustomed to.

       Perhaps if anythingI've learned over the years, that money is out there to be made, you only have to look for it, and work hard for it. What seems to me a more priceless commodity is time and freedom. I think those who capture that side of the market are far better off then the person who is a slave to their millions.
      
       I do believe I'm very close to making my choice, which is to keep my signature to myself. In time, I will find out if I made the right choice or not. I just hope this choice carries no regrets.

Art Intervention

      "For You" by Nat Whatmore.

 I decided this year was the year I'd divert some of the money I would regularly spend on frivolous things like clothes, handbags, jewelry and such towards artwork. It's an investment, as long as you purchase limited editions, handsigned, certified and for me, on canvas giclee. It fills up walls for my viewing pleasure.

       Plus, as my younger daughter Kaitlyn said, "I'll inherit all these when you kick the bucket right Mom?" I'll have some rather important things to pass on to my children besides funeral bills and estate sale knick knacks. (She's already negotiated her claim on my beautiful Judith Heartsong artwork>

       In my quest to finally purchase legit artwork I've discovered my tastes in art are rather strange. Strange is nothing unusual in my world, so perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised. I shy away from things like luscious flower fields, animals and completely perfect settings. Which for the most part is all I see out in the art world, unless I go abstract, which I do love.

       I've purchased 5 pieces since December. And although it felt like a grand idea at the time, socking away money on the real deal didn't feel as awful as finding out how much it costs to frame them all. It's a conspiracy theory.

       Out of the five I purchased, three are of woman. I found I'm deeply drawn to the humanity side of art, as long as somehow, someway, I can project myself into their world. One of the first ones I purchased is call, "Portrait with Red Berries" by James Christensen. Nothing too strange about her.

       Next, I fell in love with these strange and unusual woman by the artist Cassandra Barney. Romana and Etta. They are now part of my household collection. Now normally I don't do butterflies, hearts, and anything else that resembles things revolved around the 'sweet' side of life, but it wasn't until I'd already laid out the cold hard cash for these gals that I realized they had butterflies swirling around them. It's all in the eye's.

       I did purchase one art piece with flowers, by the abstract artist Nat Whatmore, whom I frequently rip off her art and put it in my journal. It felt only right to monetarily contribute to her since I lean on her art for visual inspiration in my journal. I'm thrilled to have one of her pieces in my home. It's a swanky, flowing kind of flower art called "For You", so I'm good with it.

       The funny thing is that we all know how often I include the picture "Sleep in lost dreams" by James Christensen in my journal. <featured in my All About Me sidebar>But the price of that print is enough to make a person choke on their desire to own it and hide their debit card safely in a wallet. But SOMEDAY, I will own the thing, and it will hang proudly in my home.

       Are there others out here in this expanse of journal world who share an affliction for purchasing artwork? I'm afraid it's one of those things that once you start you can't stop. Is there a support group for compulsive art purchasing?

I need intervention~ Strange must stick together...........

Romona                                                                                              Etta

Admissions of the Quirky Kind

All right, I submit on this extremely rare occasion for a tag meme~~
I believe I've been tagged about 5 times between this journal and my other one.

Love you guys for thinking of me, even if I pretend a coma.

I really tried to play dead, act like I never read the tags, you know, fly under the radar, but this time, I need writing material, so I'll finally cave and attempt foregoing personal information that if I read this correctly, might not shed the finest lights on a person. Provided honesty is adhered too...............

******** Five things that are odd/quirky about yourself *******

1) No matter the weather, or state of dress attire, I always go outside within 3 minutes of waking up. Now, summer months are much nicer for this habit, I can be found early morning wandering around my backyard typically lacking decent coverage. During the winter months, I typically grab a rob and slippers.
I need fresh air and no walls immediately in the morning or I feel claustrophobic.

2) I cannot, never, ever, absolutely NOT, write with a blue pen. Anything I write, whether it's in one of my handwritten journals, a grocery list, a scratch note of mindless nothings, doesn't matter the reason must be a BLACK pen. If I find myself tricked and holding a blue pen I will pitch a fit and search far and wide before I'll finish one word in blue pen.

3) See #2, because this ties in. I abhor writing on anything that contains lines. Not a single one of my journals has lines. My notepads for work, line-less My grocery list hanging on the side of the fridge, devoid of lines.
Lines are like the bars of a jail to me. I cannot stand them.
If I was on a deserted island with a blue pen and a notebook full of paper with lines, I'd pitch it into the sea and scribble in the sand with a stick before I wrote with them.
I know, no words needed, strange and unusual people have to cling to their quirks.

4) I am a bag lady. I cannot leave the house without at least 3 bags with me. First is always one of my handbags, for the money and necessities.
Second is full of writing material. Notebooks, pens, stationary, paper.
And the last one is a bag with reading material, books, magazines and Ipod.
It does not matter if I am going to the grocery store, or across town to visit a person, these bags must be in my possession at all times. Now, I do leave the latter two in the car while I'm shopping and such, but as long as I know they are within walking distance of me, I am content. Without them, I am lost. You never know when you could be caught in a blizzard, a wreck, broke down car, out of gas, etc and need the goods with you!!! I buy a lot of handbags, always in search of the perfect ones, small, large, beautiful and personal. <add shopping obsession with bags to the quirks>

5) The most embarrassing.
I am irrationally, unexplainably repulsed by all things worm like ::shudder::
Yes, I know, they are the most harmless creatures in the world.
I don't care, I hate them.
One is not complete without one irrational phobia and worms ::shudder:: are my claim.
This includes, but is not limited to worms, slugs, centipedes, some snakes, microscopic parasites that take the form of wormy appearance, and anything else that remotely resembles a worm. :::cringe:::
Throw a worm on me, I will kill you.
Toss a spider at me and I will pick it up and take it outside. A bee can sit on my shoulder and I will smile sweetly at it. No problem.
A worm, can reduce me to a psychotic lunatic.
Imagine my house after a rain and the worms have formed a barricade down the sidewalk to the car, I have to take a valuim and use a blindfold just to make it to the car.
It's not pretty.
Gardening can only be done with sturdy gloves and lots of screaming for my daughters to come save me. They are very brave and harbor no fear to these repulsive beasts.
It's not pretty.
Now you know why I flyfish only, fake bugs are a good thing.

::::double shudder and many nightmares tonight about this:::::


Now, I am thoroughly embarrassed.

If you have been able to avoid this up until now, consider yourself TAGGED.

 

"""""""""

Word
Words
Letters
Sentences
Black strokes on white canvas

Time to suck it up and get back into the mode of writing again. I've been avoiding it for a while, in all manners.

The Book <s>, we continue our constant stare down. I am the Matador and my book is the bull. I keep waving my red cape around and the damn bull keeps running away rather then coming close enough for a kill shot.

Journal writing, I continue to turn the computer on, especially when the bull <book> is being most traitorous and running out to a field to chew some grass. I continue to stare at the screen of journal possibilities and I'm typically blank.

Where art thou creativity ye Matador Rebecca?

I may need to resurrect the divine Jane and knocked out Tarzan for some personal entertainment. If I remember correctly, the last time I wrote about them, Tarzan didn't listen to directions and was knocked out on the ground. Jane was walking away with George of the Jungle and no passion tree of love in sight...............but in case Judith Heartsong is reading this, I will make mention Tarzan was still wearing his MAN THONG.........always good for a chuckle and sinful visual~~

In the spirit of book writing, I'm almost done reading the book A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. An interesting and assaulting insight into the world of addiction and the minds of people who take such abusive personal behavior to a level the majority of us will never understand. A worthy read, and I've found it's given me a better understanding of my brothers addiction and world.

I have only one complaint. And it's because I'm a wanna be writer, who's sweating out her own book and completely and whole heartedly despise writing dialogue. James seems to have found a loophole through getting out of writing dialogue and for that, my mind keeps screaming chicken shit while reading his sneaky writing. His writing has NO  use of "Jane is beautiful woman" said Tarzan in his stoic manner while adjusting his man thong. Not a single " " in the entire book............

I guess I'm just irritated that I didn't think of his loophole dialogue first. Always the inventors, and then the copycats. I won't copy, I won't take that easy road, but damn, if I had thought of it first I'd be all over his sneaky style in a writers minute.

I applaud his brilliance and lack of """"""""""""""""""""""""""""

All right, this was a start, time to start writing again, feeling the love of the computer, and poking my bull <book> in the arse with a writers sword and getting this show on the road again.

Routine, is a terrible thing to ignore~~