Letting the Dreams Guide, and the Words Flow

To Write, or Not to Write - Check It

2011-12-19T20:52:00.000-05:00

After a long year of different upheavals and finally new beginnings, I've decided to open a new blog and abandon this one. Have a new email addy too, so if you need it, let me know. Hope to see you there! =)

KS

The Rapture / Common Themes In Writing

2011-05-21T18:32:00.000-04:00

I'll be the first to admit the thought of the world ending makes me a little bitchy, especially when that's all I hear about all around me. Quite honestly, it scares the living bejesus out of me (the reason for the above mentioned bitchiness). It has ever since I was a small child, and my father would always talk about it, the Rapture.

He couldn't wait for it to happen, and to a child (four or five years old and older), to hear your farther talk about this thing called the Rapture is terrifying. About fire and brimstone falling from the sky, the dead rising, people disappearing, then hell on earth beginning. About people with the mark of the beast coming into your homes and decapitating you if you don't take the mark as well. After hearing about it so much, after having it all but pounded into my head, there's nothing that terrifies me more. Still, to this day. It's the same for demons - it's quite frightening to hear that if I'm not careful demons will appear in the middle of the night in my room to make me a believer. Apparently, they've seen demons before, though for some other reasons.

After I was old enough to make my own opinions, form my own beliefs, that's when the bitterness and the resentment started. And it continued to grow all the way through my teen years until I wanted near nothing to do with my parents beliefs. Out of their home now, and with Frankie, I'm slowly growing out of that resentment, that bitterness, and letting it go, allowing myself some sort of faith in something other than science. The Rapture, though - my feelings toward it haven't changed. It still scares the living shit out of me, I never want to talk about it, thus enters the bitchiness.

With all this said, I've noticed a common theme in my writing - destruction, darkness, evil, death, the apocalypse. All the things that truly frighten me the most, all the things the constantly reoccur in my dreams. Why write about something so extensively that keeps you up at night sometimes, that constantly haunts your dreams, that petrifies you more than anything? Then again, why write about abuse, self-destruction, depression, molestations - all the other things I strive so desperately to understand the concept behind, the reason people do it, and the victims reactions to it?

For me, writing is more than a fun hobby or job aspiration, just as some of my blogs are. It's a way to understand, to heal, to cope. I wouldn't say it's a crutch. I would say it's the next best thing to Dr. Phil.

Out of time, so until next time -

Katie S. Taylor

Progress, Progress, Progress -

2011-04-28T16:17:00.003-04:00

It's everywhere - both in my fantasy world and the real world, and also the reason I've yet again went MIA from the blogging universe.

I've a started a new WIP, while also working on finishing the last round of edits of DEVOUR (previously known as HUNTED). Okay, okay, okay! I've been kind of neglecting DEVOUR, but I'm on a roll! So good of a one, I'm hoping to be finished with the first draft of the new WIP by the end of May, and that's with me allotting myself extra time.

I won't give away any details just yet, but I will say it all started because of the protagonist's name. I've been looking forever for the right character to fit this particular name, which I absolutely adore, but none of them have fit the bill, but then presto! Here she is. Again, not going to give any details away, as I do believe in jinxes, and to do so would make there be a major hitch in my writing and slow it down. It's my only superstition, so I think I'm doing pretty good.

As for the real world - our property we bought is coming along. We're about ready to move something on to it so we can move out of where we've been staying, which I'm more than ready for. Can't stress that one enough - why I was so apt to buy this place. Then, we can move onto more ambitious projects. First, though, we need a better bridge to actually drive across. Nothing too major. We're just a permit away. Let's just hope nothing major happens, and the weather turns a bit nicer. Those storms last night were killer.

Well that's all for now. Until next time!

Katie S. Taylor

Favorite Word of the Day:

VIKING

Favorite Quote of the Day:

I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it's not the answer. ~Jim Carrey

Poetry Dabbling - :S

2011-04-27T18:07:00.000-04:00

ALONE

Loneliness invades me

Bitterness overtakes me

Stuck in a room

Not another soul in sight

Sad tunes playing

Reverberating in my head

My heart clenches

My soul grieves

Things lost

Never to get them back

Friends gone, fickle

Trust broken, irreparable

Love trapping

What to do?

Crying inside

Alone

Always alone

Distractions - Oh, the Distractions

2011-04-01T17:15:00.000-04:00

I'm very distracted today, and I haven't the slightest idea why.

I can't focus on anything that I'm doing, namely my new WIP. First, I couldn't find the perfect font or font size to write with (awful quirk of mine), which I've been struggling with since starting the WIP a few days about. I'm 8K and I've been working on it for a few days now - that's not normal. But I finally settled on one (for now at least). Then, I was too hot. So, I turn off the heat. Still too hot. I swear, I'm in my early twenties and I'm already having hot flashes. This isn't looking good (in all serious, googled it, apparently very common; either way, hate 'em). So, what to do to fix the problem? I'll spare you the details.

Alright. Relatively cool now (as I should be, considering!)... And the dogs won't shut up and stop fighting over their bone. A stupid, little, plastic indestruct-o bone that neither of them know how to share.

>(

And that is not my happy face.

They finally settle down, and there really isn't anything else that should be distracting me. And there isn't. Except me, of course, and I can't focus on a damn thing. WTH (and I would just like to point out how much I hate short hand - just hate it). My mind's all over the place, jumping around on plot and future scenes, what I'm going to eat for dinner, why March didn't go out like a lamb and it's still snowing, I really want chocolate, it's almost five o'clock... A mass of unrelated thoughts all streaming through my head, as if they're on crack.

Not okay.

Favorite Word of the Day:

Gimcrack

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. - E.L. Doctorow

I giggled when I read this - giggled.

Katie S. Taylor

Trivia Tuesday

2011-03-29T13:09:00.000-04:00

Personally, I love random trivia, and in hopes of creating some sort of weekly blog schedule, I'm starting something new. Each Tuesday, I'll list up to four different random tidbits of trivia, and if you enjoy pointless trivia like me, I hope you enjoy. =).

1.) Sagittarius B, which is approx. 26 light years away from the Earth, contains billions upon billions upon BILLIONS liters of vinyl alcohol. True story.

2.) 1 out of 2 shopping carts have fecal matter on the handlebars. Disgusting.

3.) The largest amphibian, the Chinese giant salamander, is roughly 5ft in length, give or take. It's creepy - really, really creepy. I've seen it.

4.) Black Vultures mate for life and will kill an unfaithful member of their species. Talk about brutal.

Favorite Word of the Day:

TALUS

Her stomach dropped at the sight of the steep talus she'd have to descend to make it to the bottom of the mountain - at all the sharp rocks waiting to slice into her flesh.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Our life's a stage, a comedy: either learn to play and take it lightly, or bear its troubles patiently. - Palladas

Katie S. Taylor

To Mercy

2011-03-26T15:01:00.000-04:00

Whoever reads this, some - maybe all - might think it's pretty silly, but I need to get it off my chest, and I don't have the guts to say it aloud, to say it to the people who care.

A week ago, my cat, Mercy, passed away - suddenly, unexpectedly. It completely blindsided me. I hadn't been expecting it.

My mother called me that morning - I was supposed to go down there to visit but overslept. No biggie. That happens all the time. Then, she asked me if I wanted my father to come pick me up (the love and I are down to one vehicle until he gets his truck fixed, so he used my car for work). I didn't understand why. Why was this day any different? I hadn't come down plenty of days that I said I would (that sentence makes no sense, but I don't care to fix it; sorry). Then she said because she was getting ready to bury one of our pets. I thought it was Waterfall, the family Chihuahua. He's old, over fifteen. I would have expected that, but then she told me one of the worst things possible. It was Mercy.

That wasn't supposed to happen. It couldn't be real, but it was. I saw it with my own two eyes, was there when we buried him. All I can see now is his body, just lying there - motionless, cold. No life, none of the vivaciousness or mischievousness that I loved so much about him. Nothing. It was all gone, taken away for a reason I can't begin to fathom.

I loved that cat so much, adored him. He was there when no one else in the world was, as if he actually knew when I was upset. Always there. He never left my side. My closest friend for so many years. And then I went and left him.

I left him.

A part of me always believed I'd go back for him, ya know. When the love and I finished fixing up the property we bought, had a place. But that's not going to happen now because Mercy's gone, and he's not coming back. I can't will him to, and I can't change it. He's just gone.  That's it. There's no higher meaner, no higher purpose. There's no reason behind it. Life's a cruel bitch - that's it. I don't pretend I understand it. Don't pretend I understand death, because I don't - I hate it, loathe, curse it. But maybe if I'd been there more often, came around when I said I would, maybe I would have noticed something off about him. I could've fixed it, and maybe he'd still be here. Maybe.

I wish I'd gotten to say goodbye.  Wish I knew if he went peacefully, if it hurt.   I just wish I'd been there, ya know. All the times he was there for me, I wasn't there for him when he needed me, and now I can't even tell him, can't show him, can't hold him... Because he's gone. And he's not supposed to be. Not yet.

It's been a week, and it's still not okay. There's still this gapping hole in my heart that I can't fix. It's just there.  I'm doing everything I can to keep my mind off it, because everytime I think about it I just want to cry, and I hate crying. Despise it. But everything else is so... I don't want to write, not really. Don't even really want to be writing this... Some probably think it's silly, probably think it's "just" a cat, an animal. But that isn't the case. I loved that cat almost more than anything - he was right up there with the best of 'em. And now he's just gone. Gone. I left him. And I'll get him back. Never.

So to Mercy. I love you. I miss you. So much.

Katie S. Taylor

UNREQUITED - A Short Story

2011-03-26T13:43:00.001-04:00

By: KATIE S. TAYLOR

Something’s eating me alive inside.

It twists my stomach, claws at my inner walls, gnaws at my heart, my soul, and laughs, as I cry – scream, with no one there to listen. A silent echo reverberating against bare walls. A cavernous, hollow shell. Then, with my chin all quivers, my hands all shakes, my shoulders trembling, a chuckle escapes me. A humorless sound that chills even me. The cold one, the numb one. I can’t escape it, can’t escape you, your deep voice – your deep chuckle – resonating in my head.

You haunt me. Haunt my every dream, my every nightmare, my every goddamn waking thought. Not a minute passes where you don’t. You’re there. My savior. My captor. My killer. My lover. My hater. Your dark eyes shine incandescently, dark fires, as your mouth twists – a wicked grin I can’t escape.

Do I want to?

Does it matter?

I’m caught, stuck – trapped like an animal, enslaved with no hope of reprieve. And you don’t even know it. Don’t even know what you’ve done, what’s you’ve turned me into. You bastard – you fucking bastard.

How could you? How could you just leave? How could you play with me for so long, and then just leave? No words. No goodbyes. No, ‘you’re a bitch and I want nothing to do with you.’ There was nothing – nothing! Only from her, your new toy, the one I knew nothing about while you whispered such sweet promises to me, the one who told me when I went looking for you, worried. Fucking worried – what a joke. Your joke – your sick, demented joke that you knew I would fall for. Your naïve girl. I fucking hate you. Hate you for what you’ve done. Hate you, hate you, HATE YOU!!

Pain explodes inside me, something I can’t quell. It manifests, turns tangible – I can touch it, touch it, touch –

Crimson floods my hand, running in criss-crossing rivulets down my arm, splattering the floor. As the knife clatters after the droplets, breaking the deafening silence, I can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but slump forward against the kitchen sink, looking out the window at the panorama beyond. My bangs hang in eyes, but I don’t push them back. Can’t think to. Can’t move, even if I had wished to. Can’t feel the physical pain anymore as I grip the sink’s edge, the deep gash going ignored as it stains the steel.

It’s so pretty outside. The sun’s out, finally chasing back the storm clouds of this past week. Yet, I don’t feel its rays. Don’t feel its warmth. Where are they? It’s bright and vibrant against my flesh, cutting through the clear pane of glass separating us, but I’m still cold. Not even the anger warms me, if I even felt any to begin with. There’s just… there’s just that thing, that horrible thing eating away at me, eating me alive. And I can’t stop it. I don’t know how; don’t understand why I can’t let go, why I can’t find closure. Can’t understand why I’m still so… so cold.

A ragged breath escapes me. My head drops to my chest, and my eyes close against the dried tears. My shoulders shake again – I can’t stop it, can’t control it. I only see you – your dark hair, your dark eyes, your deep voice. It still whispers to me. I can’t escape it. Can’t let it go. Unsure if I want to. Unsure how to.

So cruel. How could someone be so… so cruel? It’s punishment. Punishment for my sins, for my wrongs. All of it. They always say payback is a bitch. This is your payback – I just know it. Bring me in again; convince me everything was okay, that we would be whole again, and then… then… Christ, how could I be so dumb? How could you be so cruel? Do you really hate me that much? Why can’t I let you go?

Still holding on – slipping sand.

I remember your face, though. Your smile, your touch, your warmth, your love, even your hate – so strong. Overwhelming. All of it.

So stupid.

Why should I feel this way when you don’t? You bastard… What have you turned me into?

I turn, my eyes catching on the kitchen island – the open drawer, the picture lying atop it… It’s a magnetic force. I’m drawn to it, can’t resist it. Blood splatters after me, red covers his face as I brush my fingers over the glossy top, a crimson trail.

This shouldn’t be happening to me. I have a good life – everything I could ask for. Why can’t I let you go? Why won’t you just release me? I don’t want to love you anymore. I don’t want to miss you – a hurt so deep I can’t breathe, a physical pain I can’t ignore. Don’t want to think about you, see your face at every turn. I just… I want peace, left alone. I want to forget you like you’ve forgotten me. Please…

My shoulders slump once more, my eyes close. Tilting my head back, my brow deep furrows, I take a deep, long breath. Hold it; let it ease out in a silent hush.

Gravel crunches outside. My eyes slowly open, and I stare at the ceiling for a moment before swallowing hard, closing my eyes even harder. Just for a moment, though, and then I push ever dark feeling back to the dark depths where they belong. I ignore the monster eating me alive as I slip our picture back beneath the faux cabinet bottom, beneath my crochet needles and scissors – a safe haven. Red stains the sunflower dishtowel, as I wipe up all the blood, leaving no traces. Then, I wrap my hand, so cold – so very, very cold. The pain inside me trying to escape. No tears falling.

The door open, closes, and his heavy footsteps pad through the house to find me. I swallow hard. As he enters, I turn, smiling for him. He smiles back, a gentle smile that clenches my stomach.

“You’ve hurt yourself again.” The worry is instantaneous. He doesn’t hesitate to rush to my side, grabbing my hurt hand, doctoring it up. “I swear, babe, I’ve never met anyone clumsier with a knife.”

It’s a joke, but there’s still an underlying worry behind the clear panes of his glasses, in his light blue eyes so very different from your chocolate brown ones.

I shrug, still smiling. Just smile – everything's all right if you smile. “That’s why I try to leave the vegetable cutting to you, love.”

He shakes his head, pulls me close, kisses the top of my head. As he wraps his arms around me, holding me so tight I can feel the gentle thrum of his heart – so steady – he sighs. “My clumsy girl. But I love you.”

I tighten my arms around him, pain stabbing my heart. My chin quivers, that wicked chuckle reverberating inside my head. Clenching my eyes shut, I take another deep breath.

“I love you too.”

His fingers thread through my hair. My stomach twists, the darkness eating away at me, so ravenous. And I can’t help but wonder who the monster truly is now. You? Or I?

FIN

Written By: Katie S. Taylor

On: March 25, 2011

Posted on Blogger: March 26, 2011

Not beta read. All errors are mine.

Finding The Right Tune

2011-03-07T17:36:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, it's just hard. I'm playing around with another pet project of mine, as I look at Amberlyn 2's plot, and I just can't seem to find the right music to listen to as I'm working. Ever had this same problem?

It's a darker story, with a bitterer MC, and I can't seem to find its perfect match. I'm not the type that has to have music to write - it just helps get the mood of certain scenes right, especially the beginning. And the beginning is what's most crucial because if the beginning if off, then the whole story will be. I've had many projects where I couldn't get the right beginning, and left it, yet to return. So the right music is essential, especially so in those emotional scenes - just turn on some seriously depressing instrumental music or some contemporary, and I'm ready to put my character's heart through hell. That's always fun.

But today, I just can't seem to settle on something. Everything just seems... old. No, that's not correct, but I do think I need to update what's on the mp3 player. Any suggestions? Well, here's one pointless ramble for the day, =).

Favorite Word of the Day:

CABARET

The cabaret was jammin', packed full of people dancing - grinding against each other as techno blared from the speakers.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Life is short, art long, opportunity fleeting, experience treacherous, judgment difficult. - Hypocrites

Katie S. Taylor

3rd Vs. 1st Vs. 2nd Person

2011-03-05T19:35:00.001-05:00

Which do you prefer?

Personally, I prefer first person now. It allows me to delve deeper into a certain character's psyche, allows me to explore just exactly what makes her tick. Sure, I could easily do this with third person, but to me, it still feels... Disconnected.

Yes, I'll say disconnected. It doesn't allow me to get as close to my main character. Not as close as I would like, anyway.

As a lover of psychology, I love exploring my MC's inner thoughts - her psyche - and discover all these little things about her I might never know otherwise. I enjoy learning, discovering how she feels and thinks regarding a particular event or situation that has or is happening to her. Some might argue that with third person, you get to do this with more than just your main lead, and I would agree as well.

However, it's still not as close as I would like, and this is only in my personal experience. I enjoy solving the mystery as my MC does, as opposed to being in an omnipresent narrative, where I'll get to explore every character's. That's much more thrilling than third person to me, and I've written in third person before. In fact, that used to be all I wrote in. Then, one day, a few years ago, I just decided to try my hand at first person, and I've been writing in it almost nonstop ever since.

When I look back and reread my third person fiction pieces, I have that feeling of disjointedness, a lack of connection to my main character. Of course, this could also be because a few years ago my skills weren't as... we'll say good for the sake of me finding a better word. Call me lazy, folks - I save the perfect words for my fiction writing. Nonetheless, for me, personally, I love the first person. I prefer reading it; I prefer writing. Don't get me wrong, I still love a great third person narrative, but for personal preference, I'm first person all the way, baby.

Now for the good stuff -

Favorite Word of the Day:

NINJA

Robbed in black, the ninja crept in, as steathily as possible, with revenge permeating his mind.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Civilization exists by geological consent,
subject to change without notice. - Will Durant

Perhaps we should be a bit nicer to the world, then, aye?

Katie S. Taylor

Dog Days

2011-03-02T15:40:00.004-05:00

As I was just commenting to someone else, there's nothing more devastating to a writer's muse and flow than two dog's very loud barking right next to your damn ear. I don't know which is worse: Zoe's high pitched barks, or Odin's deep, deafening ones... Definitely Zoe's. Odie will shut up if I tell him to - usually. Zoe's a little smartass with a major attitude that needs adjusting.

Of course, they wouldn't be barking their little heads off (well, big, in Odin's case) if there weren't people just standing around out front, jabbering away. Yes, it's a free country and I don't own the sidewalk, but damn if it's not annoying when you're trying to write and get the flow and ambiance perfect. Of course, maybe it's not all to blame on the people outside. I do doubt both my dog's IQ and mentality quite often.

Oh well. I suppose that's why I love them... Possibly - no, no, I jest! I do adore them. So far, though City's the favorite today.

Katie S. Taylor

Update!

2011-02-28T21:03:00.002-05:00

*Sigh* This is why Twitter is much better for me than blogs, as much as I enjoy them. 140 characters to say what you want, to get your point across, and then you're done. Much easier for someone who gets distracted easily - or thoroughly absorbed in what she's doing. Which is where I've been since my last post - working vigorously on editing HUNTED (now titled DEVOUR) after a long hiatus of putting off the inevitable.

What can I say? I missed Amberlyn and Kaleb (that and the sweetie and I finally remembered to pick up some ink while we were out - hard copies makes a world of difference when editing).

I've gotten it from approximately 158k to 119k on my own. The very beginning's been reworked and rewritten, and changes have been made throughout it. Now it's finally been sent to a trusted pair of eyes to see what else can be cut, and I'm just waiting patiently, enjoying the editing break. Meanwhile, I'm working on DEVOUR's query, in the event I get it to where I want, and the second Amberlyn tale because I just enjoy my characters' company that much. I'm sure I'll hit writer's block soon, and take a short break, but for now, I'm enjoying it.

THE VAMPIRE'S SLAVE hasn't been given up on, but it does have a lower priority - that and there's just something missing from it, something that for the life of me I can't put my finger on. It's "finished," except for more editing, but I'm still very unhappy with it, that something really throwing it off.

On a more personal note, one of my dog's gone crazy. He won't stop obsessing over the sweetie's laptop and mine (which he ends up drooling on - yeah, drool stains on the screen, really not too appealing) - or his toolbox, the curio and gun cabinet, the gift bags, my portable hard drive, the inside of an empty bucket, Zoe's conjoined water/food bowl... I think he might see his reflection in some of them, but others...

I'm at a loss for what to do for the poor guy. Nothing will break his concentration, and this is an all day thing. Any suggestions? =(.

Until another time (and hopefully not a month from now)!

Favorite Word of the Day:

GLABROUS

His glabrous scalp glinted brightly in the harsh sunlight - as if he'd waxed it.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

“Moving on, is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard.” - Dave Mustaine.

Both true and false. Ah!

Katie S. Taylor

A Happy New Year and EXCERPT!

2011-01-04T15:34:00.002-05:00

So, I missed wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. One, I didn't find the time, and two, I ended up getting sick and sleeping mostly the week after Christmas. But, better late than never, so a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! May 2011 be great to each of you! Any resolutions you plan on keeping? I don't make them anymore, because I can never seem to keep them, so... Better to just not make them, than to disappiont yourself. =)

Anyway, on to the real purpose of this blog. Here's an excerpt of THE VAMPIRE SLAVE: EVANESCENT TWILIGHT. (Yes, I'm still editing that; took a long hiatus, but then got back into the saddle, same for HUNTED). It's page 99, so let me know what you guys think. I read somewhere, on Melissa Dean's blog, actually, that if a reader likes page 99, then he or she will probably like the rest or find it interesting. I'm not sure how much I believe that, because page 99 could be the most boring page, while the rest is super exciting, or vice versa. But, since I have a love/hate relationship with TVS, here goes nothing.

Hopefully you enjoy. Let me know if you read!

--------------------------------------------------
THE VAMPIRE SLAVE: EVANESCENT TWILIGHT
EXCERPT: Pg 99, Chapter 7 of 24

Sighing, I shook myself, knowing Cecily was right. I would have to deal, grind my teeth, and kick and scream inside my head, as everything threatened to close in and destroy me. However, I wouldn’t let her see it, was obstinate and refused to allow it. It was her turn to be frightened out of her mind, and I loathed stealing it from her. I had known the rules and the risks when Regulus and I set out on this escapade of desperation, just as the others had, but Cecily… That was an entirely different matter all together, and never had I calculated her into this mess.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened, moving my bag to the floor, and turned to the other girl, tucking one foot in the bend of my knee. It was time the cowering and the bitching ceased. Cecily would need someone to protect her now, and I would be dead and damned before I let anything hurt her, especially because of me.

“Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie to you? It may not be too late to turn back. I’ll get out now, and you can pretend you never saw me.” I almost half-wished she would, but at her ‘you’re crazy’ look, I knew she wouldn’t. She was too stubborn, another family trait inherited it seemed.

“I’d prefer not to be bullshitted with, if you don’t mind. And even if that were an option, which it isn’t, I’m pretty sure your friend would track me down and kill me if I left you on the side of the road.” I didn’t bother correcting her, knowing she was probably right. “We may not have been around each other for the last five years, but I haven’t changed that drastically. Obviously, you’re mixed up in some whacked shit, and if I stick around, I will be too. I’m not dumb. Tell me the truth. What’s going on? What were those guys?”
---------------------------------------

Katie S. Taylor

Holiday Yuck

2010-12-22T17:16:00.004-05:00

I'll be so amazingly happy when the Holidays are over. In all honestly, though, it doesn't feel like Christmas, just as it hadn't felt like Thanksgiving. The entire year flew by before I realized it, and now that 2010 is nearing its end, I can hardly fathom it. This is a problem that is happening more and more the older I get. I remember when I was little, my mother and everyone would always tell me it would happen, but I never quite believed them. Now, however, that it is happening... well... I don't like it. Truth be told, it's quite frightening. I hear younger people now say they can't wait until they "grow up" and now I'm thinking the same thing my mother and everyone would always tell me. It just amuses me how these things come about, though perhaps amuse isn't the proper word to use here.

Either way, I'll still be glad when the Holidays are over even if that does get me closer to turning another year older, which is fast approaching. The Holidays get me frazzled inside and I can't properly concentrate on anything. On a new project I'm working on, it's taken me two weeks to get almost 5k. In normal situations, I can get that plus some in a single day. And my writing isn't the only thing suffering. My reading. It seems the only time I find I have time for it is when Frankie drags me to one of his younger brother's basketball games. I just don't know. I want the Holidays to be over, yet I don't because that means I'll turn another year older shortly after, and that brings me a step closer to... what?

The end? Quite possibly. Death is one of the most common phobia's people suffer from, and I'm not exempt from it. Recently, I've started to become religious, bit by bit, after so long of feeling bitter toward it. And the main reason for this sudden change is that fear. The whole 2012 thing really made me think. What if it did happen? How many of you believe it, I'm not sure. I'm not even sure if I believe it, but just the thought is enough to scare the living wits out of me.

Still, I'll be glad when the Holiday craze is over and I can finally relax, if but a marginal bit. Other thoughts will still be looming in my head, but I'll try to focus more on the good and positive things. It's something new I've been trying out. ;).

Until next time!

Favorite Word of the Day:

Malodorous

I took a deep breath, hearing the air rattle through the narrow passages, able to taste the harsh, malodorous scent of antiseptic and bleach covering the scent of death and sickness.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"Why do we laugh at such terrible things? Because comedy is often the sarcastic realization of inescapable tragedy." -- Bryant H. McGill

Because I'm feeling sarcastic today, and I liked it. Why else would it considered the favorite quote of the day?

Katie S. Taylor

Appropriate...or Disgusting?

2010-12-18T18:09:00.002-05:00

I find it appalling, and I don't even have children. Looking at this, well, it just reaffirms to me that I really don't want them. What happened to childhood innocence? Just imagine all the sexual predators who have watched this videos a million times. Are the girls talented? Yes, obviously. But, do they look like mini sluts in the making? Definitely. Is that really what parents are shooting for? I suppose, judging from some of the comments. Maybe they should just buy them a stripper pole for Christmas. Anyway, that's enough ranting and cynicism for today.

Katie S. Taylor

In a Funk

2010-11-19T16:35:00.003-05:00

Ever had something on your chest you really, really needed to get off? That had been weighing down on you for a few years now, but you know you'll never get to say it to the person/thing/whatever its aimed toward for whatever reason? What do you do? Just continue to let it surface every now and then, putting you in a weird funk you can't escape, retreating into yourself before you can break away from it? Do you write about it? Go punch something? Cry? (I've done none of those, just to clear any misconceptions up). What do YOU do? What can you do, other than pay out of the ass for a complete stranger to listen to you bitch and moan about something idiotic, something that pisses you off almost more than it bothers you? *Sigh* If I was a drinker, I'd be drowning right now.

KST.

SCHISM OF YOURSELF - A Companion Piece to Of Masochism and Sadism

2010-11-04T17:36:00.001-04:00

By: Katie S. Taylor
Written: 3-25-07
Posted on Blogger: 11-4-10

"Why stay with him?"

The question posed makes her stiffen, but she doesn't turn around. Doesn't want to face the angry expression, the angry eyes that will bore into her own deep, purplish-blue ones. They've been over this at least a million times, if not more than that. No, she corrects, it is more than that. However, she knows that no matter how many times they've argued the matter, no matter how many times they've cursed and yelled the whole awful dispute, fight, it will once again occur—always reoccurring, over and over again, until she either breaks or goes insane. Whichever one comes first, and she knows one of them will, sooner or later.

A cynical smile almost twists her lips, a smile that wouldn't have been a smile at all, but something sad and bitter and empty—but aren't they the same, breaking down and insanity? Aren't they? What really makes them so different? But maybe she's already crazy, and if she's not, then she's well on her way—so very close to a break down that it's not even funny. But if asked if she really cared, she wouldn't. It's takes energy to care about anything nowadays, energy she just doesn't have anymore, and she would have been sad over the matter, but she finds she just doesn't care anymore. A sad and dismal thought to anyone but her, but that's the woes of life with all its sordid details—details that are just too mind-boggling and perplexing to worry her tired mind, body, spirit over.

An ache in her head blooms, a dull and slow thump, thump, thump that's velocity and intensity will magnify until it feels like her head is about to explode. So she decides she had better stop thinking over the mysteries of life because she's never really fancied mysteries to begin with, and besides, she knows an answer is expected from her.

"He loves me." And her voice, once happy and full of determination and vivaciousness, is soft and quiet, a ghost of its former self.

But, then again, she's a ghost, a shadow, of her former self. She knows this too, but still believes that he loves her. He, a sadist that is in love with her tears and her pain and takes pleasures in hearing her agonized cries in his perverse mockery of "love" late at night, only does what he does for her benefit. Only does it to protect her from the world outside the windowpanes that she stares out of day in and day out. Because she's not allowed outside, cut off from the rest of the world, at least unless he's with her, and then she's all lowered eyes and shadowy smiles for the sake of lowering suspicions.

Not that anyone would say anything to him anyways, too influenced by their fear of him, and the belief that they should mind their own business. Because what business is theirs if a washed-up, bruised and damaged, drug addicted girl—though she's been clean for three months now because he doesn't like her hurting herself like that—with dark circles under her eyes wants to be hurt, humiliated, and abused by a man that's too in love with her pain to realize the damage he's inflicted? However, maybe he does realize the damage he's done to her, realizes that she's practically broken—a frail and broken doll, his frail and broken doll with sad violet eyes… just the way he wants it, and she knows it. However, she still loves him, and deludes herself into believing he's just as in love with her as he is with her pain.

And she knows what is going to come next because it always does. They've been over this too many times for her not to know—the same fight ingrained into her memory. She knows it word for word because its always the same, to the very last detail.

"You're a fool."

It used to cut her to the quick, cause her heart to clench tightly, but not any more—numb to everything unless it comes to him. But a small part her deep, deep down inside, the suppressed part that she refuses to acknowledge and instead ignores, knows it's the truth. But it doesn't matter because she still loves him, and she already knows it makes her a masochist because she's already went through that and decided it's one reason why she stays with him, why she loves him. Because he can hurt her, and she likes pain, and she decides that it makes her as twisted as him. Two twisted pieces of humanity. Maybe that's why they go together, fit together almost perfectly in a dark and macabre kind of way, because they're both sick in the head and need each other to fill their twisted and warped needs and dark desires. Like oxygen to humans, and carbon dioxide to plants, they need each other to survive and function.

She knows no one will understand that or get it, but condemn her a loony and offer numbers so she can get in touch with a shrink. And maybe all those people with their ideas of normal are right and she should get professional help, but she won't because she has what she needs, and considers it like chocolate. Dark and tempting and so unhealthy, but addictive, and once she gets a taste she needs more because like chocolate for some people, he's like her drug and she's addicted to him. So maybe it isn't really about love or not, but needs, and she needs him more than anything in the entire world. Because without him there wouldn't be a reason to live, and it doesn't matter that she's slowly going insane or that she's all numb and empty inside, because without him she'd be worse than she already is.

And all she can do is repeat the same thing over like a mantra, her voice a mixture of stubborn belief, like she's trying to convince someone that it's the truth.

"He loves me."

Never mind that she loves him because it won't do any good, and briefly she wonders why she's even having this argument because it won't do any good either. She'll still believe he loves her and the girl behind her will think she's nothing but a fool and stupid for staying when all he's doing is hurting and killing her on the inside. And somewhere inside she hates the angry girl for always coming back and haunting her, taunting her, and trying to get her to leave. But it doesn't matter because nothing does anymore, and because she'll still be a masochist in love with a sadist tomorrow, and she'll still always come back to him no matter what. And the girl behind her knows it.

"God, you're so stupid. He's using you, always has been. You're just too dumb and naive to see it—no, you don't want to see." It's an angry accusation full of scorn and rage and disgust.

Perhaps she may be stupid and twisted and all around sick for staying with a man as disturbed as he is, but she knows she isn't naïve. At least, she thinks she isn't because she knows exactly why she's staying and why she's not leaving, and she knows it doesn't have anything to do with being naïve. Because she does love him and she knows that somewhere deep, deep, deep down inside of him, beneath all his cold and icy and wicked nature, he does love her just a little. Knows it by the little gestures he does sometimes for the briefest, most fleeting moments. The way he'll take care of her and put her to bed after she's drank too much and has vomited her guts up, even if the next morning he'll give her a beating she'll never forget for getting drunk in the first place. The way he sometimes just looks at her with a soft look in his ice blue eyes, and the closest thing to a smile will cross his lips, just for a second, though. She knows because of the way he took care of the jerk that had attacked her, touched her and violated her, burying him somewhere in the forest he owns behind their house. Or the way he sometimes gently kisses her forehead when he thinks she's drifted off to sleep after their "lovemaking". And though it's all only for a fleeting second, it's enough to let her know the truth, and it doesn't even matter that he loves her pain and tears more because she's a masochist just as he's a sadist, and they fit each other.

"He doesn't love you, he's using you, and it's slowly killing you… Why can't you see that? Why can't you just leave? Just leave… Why do you stay with him?" It's beseeching and angry and a soft plead for an answer that always manages to elude because it just doesn't make sense why she stays when all he's doing is hurting her and using her.

And finally she turns her head, adverting her gaze from the windowpane to look behind her. She stares into the violet eyes boring into hers, violet eyes that aren't really being reflected as angry, but tired and sad and dull and utterly hopeless with shadows beneath them, and she watches the pale lips as they whisper the words, her mantra, again: "Because he loves me… he does…" And slowly she turns back around, turning away from the angry, violet eyes that she sees peering out from the reflective glass, but that aren't really there, only in her head… "He does…"

FIN

Katie S. Taylor

Can We Say Stubborn?

2010-11-02T17:36:00.002-04:00

So, I'm beginning to notice an intrinsic habit of mine (though, habit may not be the proper word). I have a few different writing projects I'm working on (some more than others), and so far the MFC's names are Amberlyn, Lily, Mackenzie, Adelaide, Anya, and Aurelia... Notice anything? Perhaps that out of all of those only two begins with a different letter than the rest. I have a bad habit of wanting to lean toward names that begin with the letter 'A'. Why, I'm not positive. Maybe because they just sound stronger than some of the others. Who knows. I had to stop myself yesterday from naming the one who is currently Aurelia, Adelina. That would be just a tad too close to Adelaide for my liking at the moment.

While this may not seem like a big deal to some, I prefer some diversity in my writing. I believe one hundred percent that the characters should create themselves - their names, their looks, their personalities. But damn it, if it isn't frustrating sometimes.

Take for instance, Adelaide (my Nano character). Originally, she was supposed to be a blonde. Of course, she rebelled, didn't like her original name (Jolie), chose the name Adelaide, switched last names with the MMC with a few tweaks to it still, and decided she was going to be a redhead whose curls rivaled Shirley Temple. Okay, fine. Be a redhead if you want. It's better than a dark-haired character, as my characters have a tendency of wanting to be (perhaps because dark hair genes are dominant over light, which are recessive). The male lead was more obstinate about staying dark-haired, however, go figure. Men are always stubborn, though not nearly as capable as driving you crazy as females (Trust me - this is true in both the fictional world and real world; I've tried my hand at both).

Anya, she's a little blonde and grey-eyed thing - didn't really put up much of a fight, though she's undecided if she wants green eyes or not. Not that big of a deal, though her male lead is still a bit obscured in my head.

Amberlyn and Lily - they have no complaints, thank God. Perhaps that's why Amberlyn is my favorite, with Lily as a close second. =).

Mackenzie (or Kenzie) was relatively easy as well. She's a honey blonde with blue eyes. Perhaps she was so easy because she had better things to worry about, like surviving in a post-apocalyptic world or not starving or getting eaten by monsters? Hmm...

Then, there's Aurelia (or Raylee), who knows she's blonde, but isn't quite certain of the color of blonde. She knows she's blue-eyed and takes after her mother's north European fair-skinned complexion. (I'm trying to convince her to be a white blonde, but she isn't all too convinced yet). Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn - like Adelaide, though the latter had a bit of an attitude problem to begin with. If she isn't careful, she'll turn unlikeable.

Thank God their male counterparts are half as difficult, though if only I could convince them that diversity was OK. Really, they're taking tall, dark, and handsome to a whole new level. Blond is good too. So is brunet or red. At least they aren't as stubborn when it comes to the eyes. Seesh.

Favorite Word of the Day:

Planchette

As the planchette moved across the Ouija board's surface, the tween girls all shrieked in fearful excitement.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Canis timidus vehementius latrat quam mordet.
A timid dog barks more violently than it bites - Curtius Rufus.

Concentrating on a more literal meaning, this is my dog to a 'T.' Grr...

Katie S. Taylor

OF MASOCHISM AND SADISM

2010-10-21T01:56:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, late at night, when she's all alone and sitting by the window, knees tucked under her chin tightly, she'll cry. She'll stare out her window and just cry, letting the tears flow freely down her cheeks from eyes that should be happy and not haunted with angst and demons from the present. That will never happen, though, because though she hates the pain she has to live with, she's a masochist. It's a contradiction and an oxymoron in its own right. She enjoys letting people hurt her somewhere deep down inside of her. And though she wishes she could stop, she can't.

It's why she keeps going back to him.

She knows he's just as much a sadist as he is a masochist. She knows that he takes satisfaction in the pain he causes her. She almost lets a bitter smile creep upon her lips; he takes joy in the pain he causes everyone. He just takes greater pleasure in hers. She can see it in his ice blue eyes when he whispers in her ear how she'll never be anything. Can see it in his cold orbs that twisted, sadistic gleam when he looks straight into her deadened eyes when she walks in on him fucking another girl - she knows most of those times when she's walked in, he knew that she would be there at that precise time, had planned on her seeing him fucking the beauty he has withering beneath him. Its always someone beautiful, someone he can whisper about how much better they are while he's pounding relentlessly into her - while he has her crying out in agony because there isn't anything sweet about their lovemaking.

She knows he takes pleasure in belittling her, hurting her by the way he'll sneer and just stare at her with unreadable eyes after he's humiliated her in front of his friends; she doesn't have friends, he won't allow her too. She knows, can see his sick satisfaction when he forces her into one of his perverse sexual fantasies, when he hurts her while he's fucking her that he's in love with her pain. And she, underneath her moral arguments and resistance, enjoys it. Because she's just as much a masochist as he is a sadist.

And maybe that's why she stays with him. She, however, knows it isn't. She stays with him, and it scares her that she does, because she loves him. She loves him as much as she hates him. It is another contradiction, another oxymoron of sorts. Maybe that's all her life is made up of though: contradictions and oxymoron's, love and hate, black and white with more grey in the middle… It doesn't matter though, because she'll still be a masochist that hates herself, but loves her boyfriend that loves to hurt her more than anything… And somewhere in the back of her mind, she deludes herself into thinking maybe... just maybe he loves her in his own, distorted way as well.

Deep down, however, she knows that he loves her pain more. It doesn't matter that he protects her from the outside world, keeps everyone away from her. It doesn't matter that he doesn't let anyone else hurt her; that would be a fatal mistake on their part if they did. It doesn't matter that he bought her a kitten after hers died. It doesn't matter that at rare moments, after their lovemaking, or when she's across the room and looks up to see him staring at her, that there's something warm and indescribable in his icy eyes. It doesn't matter that on those rare mornings he'll brush her hair from her face gently, and smile softly at her… Because it only last for a second, and then he hurts her someway, somehow again. It doesn't matter that even if he might love her somewhere deep inside his cold interior, he loves her pain more. And she loves being hurt by him even if she won't admit it out loud.

She feels a heavy hand on her shoulder. She doesn't flinch away from him, and she doesn't wipe away her tears. It would only anger him. And while he's hurt her while he's angry before, it isn't the same as when he isn't angry. She isn't sure how much sense that makes even to herself, but she's never been philosophical and she isn't going to start now. For a moment, though, she continues to sit and look at the window as the rain falls in light patters against the pane with tears falling from her violet eyes, and he watches as well… Or maybe he's watching her, with her sad eyes and glistening tears rolling down her smooth skin?

But its only for a moment, though… As it always is…

Fin

Written: 5-26-06

Posted on Blogger: 10-21-10

Never been beta read.

Katie S. Taylor

Beauty and the Beast Thai Knock-Off

2010-10-21T00:24:00.002-04:00

Wow... When they said scene-by-scene knock off they meant it. If I were Disney, I'd be a little upset. If not for the fact their idea fell victim to "theft," then because of the crappy animations. *Shudders*

Check it out here!

VS.

I know who's the victor in my book!

Katie S. Taylor

NaNoWriMo - MONSTROSITY

2010-10-20T23:44:00.002-04:00

They say beauty calms the savage beast, or was that music? Either way, Adelaide McKnight is in for a world of trouble. She never thought moving to such a small town would have such giant aftershocks, but it did, and life as she knows it is about to change as an engimatic new character enters her life--Damon Winchester. He's the loner, the weirdo creep everyone warns her to stay away from, but as ill-fated destiny begins to unravel around them, she is drawn to him.

However, a dark secret haunts him, something that lurks just beneath the surface, begging to be unleashed. And as the past comes looking for him, Adelaide might just be in more danger than she originally assumed. For the beast inside us all is hungry, and for Damon, that hunger might just be his undoing, and for Adelaide... her death.

-----------------

So I finally "finished" TVS: ET, which I have been working deligently on and what I blame for a long haitus on here. Now, I'm gearing up for NaNoWriMo in November. Whether I'll be able to reach 50,000 words and actually complete a story in a a month's time has yet to be determined, but it'll be interesting to see. Meanwhile, I'll be working on revising TVS:ET.

Above is a short, working summary of my NANO story, titled MONSTROSITY... obviously. Is it interesting enough? Capture your attention? I'm still working on the plot, how it's supposed to begin, end, and how the middle is supposed to play out. A general idea is all I have.

Meanwhile, during all this, I've still been busy partner critiqueing. The ladies are still as talented as ever, and I'm dying to find out who Sabrina really is in Mary's TLP. Kathryn's story is getting more and more engaging, and finally I'm discovering more about Marissa. Betsy, a new partner, has also joined in. Ironically enough, her MC's name is Lilly, just as mine in TVS:ET was. It's an interesting read, and already she's managed to capture my attention and wonder just what the deal is with Lilly and what happened in her past, why Justin is tracking her.

Unfortunately, my lap top died recently. The adapter and battery have been bad for a while, but I had thought it'd last me until I got around to buying a new one. No such luck. What's the problem, though, since I'm obviously on another computer. That was the one which had Microsoft word on; the desk top didn't. HOWEVER, wonderful Mary saved the day. I had just finished emailing my partners to let them know what the heck was going on, and then I talk to her and she tells me about open office, a free program which is compatiable with microsoft word. So, I downloaded it and the day is saved, so I can get back to editing (starting over entirely in Kat's case). So that's a good thing...

Anyway, I'm off for tonight. Forgive the typos. I'll find them later.

Favorite Words of the Day:

Forlorn

I looked away from the hurt, forlorn look dressing Maggie's face, unable to face it.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"Take calculated risks. That is quite different from being rash." - George S. Patton

Something most can't tell the difference between.

Katie S. Taylor

To Laya -- I'll Miss You

2010-09-17T12:29:00.001-04:00

A tribute of sorts to Laya. I may have only had her a short time, but she was still my fuzz ball of a Holland Lop, and I loved her. She'll be dearly missed. =(.

No Favorite Word or Quote.

Katie S. Taylor

Bringing Sexy Back... in the non-JT kind of way.

2010-09-11T22:57:00.002-04:00

Sex, sex, sex--besides money, sex makes the world go 'round. It's in novels, movies, magazines--it's everywhere! And it's not leaving anytime soon. Personally, I think it's a bit overrated, especially when you have young girls throwing up and becoming rail thin in their quest to be "sexy" or "hott." I never tried to lose weight when I was younger to be sexy. I knew I would never be. I was just tired of hearing comments made by certain people who were close to me about being fat or a "butter head" (though, Frankie argues the phrase is butterface, and doesn't agree with my ex at all, but that's a different story and rant) and a million other things. To purposefully try and be sexy... It just wasn't my thing. I'm happy being a "Plain Jane" and not one of the made-up, Barbie bitches the sweetie used to date, and I used to be left for. I have other ways of feeling sexy, more everyday things. Here are three of the more popular ones, and the ones I don't mind sharing to the public.

1.) Red Toenail Polish -- I don't have a weird feet phobia or fetish, but I do think my feet are cute. They're small and slender, and my toenails aren't all too hideous. And red is already the color of passion. Add a bit of red to the toes, and I feel like a million bucks. =). (That or a french pedicure.)

2.) A tee-shirt (possibly flannel) and, usually, but not exclusively, black boy shorts -- It's fun, it's cute, and I can parade around in it all day if I want in the privacy of my own home.

3.) Yoga -- It's calming, invigorating, and leaves me feeling better about myself, which, in turn, makes me more confidant, thus a feeling a sexy ensues. It's a take on Mt. Everest type of feeling, almost.

4.) Just being with the sweetie and knowing he's happy with me -- Though I sometimes question it, when it's just me and him, it's one of the best feelings.

Those are only four though, and so I ask you now, if you care to share, what makes you feel sexy in everyday life?

Favorite Word of the Day:

UBIQUITOUS

The rumor was so ubiquitous the girl had no hope of convincing the gossipmongers of anything else.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"When I want to read a novel, I write one." -- Benjamin Disraeli

Not entirely true, though I was inspired to write my most recent things because I wanted to see something different than what I had been reading. There was/is something specific I was seeking, so instead of twiddling my thumbs, I wrote what I wanted to read. It works.

Katie S. Taylor

Jersey Shore

2010-09-10T22:53:00.000-04:00

Yep, you read right, it's about Jersey Shore. I don't know anyone else's opinion on it, but here's my thoughts on what happened on the latest show. Now, personally, I'm not big into reality TV, Jersey Shore included, but Frankie enjoys it, so I watch it with him. It's one of those things you just have to suck up and deal with it. Well, I caught some of it in the middle of the first season, since Frankie finally convinced me to watch it with him, and we continued to watch as it carried over to the second season. At this point, I felt sorry for the Sammi girl and didn't like the Jwow or Snookie girl, and wondered why everyone kept hating on the Angelina chick. The guys were whatever (except the Ronnie guy, who from the second season, seems like a major douche). They were there to party and get laid, and they were up front about it. Okay, whatever. The girls, though... Ugh.

So, Frankie goes and buys the first season, and that's when Sammi's downfall begins. To sum it up, she's my least favorite from what I've seen of the girl. Jwow and Snooki ended up being my two favorite out of the girls because they seemed the most up front, and Angelina... She's just a troublemaker. Well, my opinion of Sammi went further south after tonight's episode. I'm pretty sure having your boyfriend restraining the girl you're fighting and throwing failing palms at doesn't constitute as kicking her ass. Maybe that's just my opinion, but when you come out bleeding and the other doesn't, then yeah... It's just... People are moronic sometimes.

Moving on, I wrote up an outline for THE VAMPIRE'S SLAVE today. I reached the mid-way, writer's block point I always get to with writing, and stopped letting it free-flow. It was the same with HUNTED. I got to a certain point and then had to write a plot outline. Personally, this style works for me and I wouldn't change it. It allows me to meet characters I otherwise might wouldn't. But the outline's done, and tomorrow I should begin writing again without any delays. And hopefully, I should get the entire story finished (finished not including editing or polishing it up) soon. It would be a lot quicker than HUNTED, that's for sure. Though I've heard once you've written and finished one novel, it's always easier to write and finish a second. I guess it's true. =).

Favorite Word of the Day:

MORDACIOUS

The girl looked at me, the mordacious taunt falling from her mouth and cutting me to the quick.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"Nothing can bring you peace but yourself." --Ralph Waldo Emerson

And yoga. We can't forget yoga.

Katie S. Taylor

Excerpt!

2010-09-09T00:04:00.002-04:00

Part of Chapter One from The Vampire's Slave is up! Follow the links to the right and check it out, if you want. =)

KST.

Incognito? Not anymore.

2010-09-08T19:28:00.000-04:00

As anyone will say when they've been away for a bit, no, I'm not dead. As is obvious if the links to my others pages were to be followed, but anywho... It's been busy the last few weeks, and honestly, I just haven't felt the will to want to blog. I've continued writing. I'm over the 40k marker with THE VAMPIRE'S SLAVE: EVANESCENT TWILIGHT, as I continue to stew over HUNTED, and I've continued betaing (though I get behind a few times when life gets particularly busy, but that's life and is to be expected; thankfully, I have the most awesome critique partners ever). Nope, I just haven't wanted to blog, and not because I don't like it, either. Sometimes, I just get burnt out on certain things and take a step back from it. This may or may not have been the case for blogging, but whatever the case, I'm here now and not promising any set schedule. When I do, I notice I tend to disappear. Schedules really are my worst enemy.

I finished giving Mary's chapter three of THE LOST PRINCESS a third read over to make sure I didn't miss anything. The first time I read it I kept getting sucked into the story, and upon the second read-through found some things I'd missed. So to be sure the same thing didn't happen, I made sure to read it a third time. It's the same way for Kathryn's LIVING FOR VIOLA. The chapters and characters are so engaging it's easy to get lost in the text, and forget to point out the errors. Both of these ladies are pretty flippin' talent, though, so there's usually not too much to point out, and what I do, it's very small things.

My drafts, on the other hand, are completely different and it's because of how I write. I write, get the words I want and the scenes I want, and I don't bother reading over it and trying to polish it until after it's all been written. So, unfortunately for these lovely ladies, they get to point out more things. =).

Moving on from writing, though...

So, I finally got around to watching Igor, this animation film that was released not too long ago, that we bought when the local movie rental store closed down and sold all their movies. I think I mentioned it in another blog post further back, so yeah, it's been about that long (and I still haven't watched My X-Files movie, though I've already seen in once). But, I digress. Finally, I got around to watching, and I was surprised by it. Honestly, I didn't really know what the movie was about. I just remembered it advertising, wanted an animation film, saw that one, and presto! My darling got it for me, and I watched. In all honesty, the movie's a bit on the creepy side, definitely an animation film for older children verses younger ones. Despite it being creepy, though, it was still cute and the characters were pretty damn amusing, especially the immortal smartass. I think he's my favorite from the movie. I finally got Frankie to watch it too, and he liked it as well. It's still not as great as Up, another animation movie, but I liked it a smidgen better than Planet 51, which was pretty amusing too.

So, yes, I like animation films/cartoons. Just last night Frankie and I were watching The Swan Princess, though that was more because he loves that movie. I like it, but I would have picked out Fly Me to the Moon... or something like that, another animation film about flies going to the moon. I've never watched it, but still, watching TSP was nice. I hadn't watched it in forever, and had actually forgotten a lot of the smaller details. =). And props for Odette. Unlike most characters today, she's not a whore.

But I'm going to stop for this blog. Check out my interview on Mary's blog.

Favorite Word of the Day:

Incognito

On his latest assignment, the reporter was incognito, hoping to get the worst dirt as possible on the ball player.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

The future depends on what we do in the present. - Mahatma Gandhi

If you want something, you have to work for it. Action, action, action is the key. =).

KST.

Writing Quirks

2010-08-14T14:28:00.000-04:00

If you're like me, you have certain writing quirks you just have to follow, else you get too distracted and just can't continue. Or, that could just be me, but I have a hard time believing that. Two of my biggest writing quirks are font type and size (and the zoom in-out when I write, so I guess that would actually be three, hmm). Anyway, back to the original point. To write my draft and get the story out, I have to have a certain font or it just doesn't work. My favorite is Times New Roman or Cambria, and if I'm using 12pt, the zoom in has to be zoomed out to, oh, at least 85. Yeah, I like teeny tiny words. It just works better for me (though that could also be why I get so many typos I don't catch when I read over it the first few times...). It's just a quirk, and if it's anything else, I just can't write until I break down and change it. The spacing has to be set between 15 to 18 Exactly, the font Times or Cambria, and I'll be happy with 12 pt as long as the doc is zoomed out.

Why this is the case? I'm not sure, but it is.

Another writing quirk of mine is I can't have any other sounds except for music or, possibly, a fan (which the music drowns out, especially if I'm wearing headphones). I prefer to use a computer, because the writing just never seems as good to me if it's on paper--unless it's an essay (which I hate essays; detest them), and then I prefer paper so I can get my note cards and everything in order and see where I'm going with it. It's so much harder to do that with a computer (though I made an exception with my senior project, and that was the only time. It was just too much to do in a single night--because I procrastinated--if I were to write it out on paper and then type it).

I don't like food nearby. I have to be on the phone or the TV has to be on with me watching it to snack. Also, I prefer doing writing sitting on the couch. I've read that tons of writers prefer their own space with their own desk and such, but for me, a desk and a chair is just too formal. I like the couch with my papers of notes sprawled all across it, my lap top in my lap, and Zoe on the recliner's foot rest by my feet or curled up beside me, with Odin lying on the floor. I like being able to write but be close to Frankie when he gets off work, instead of confining myself to an office space. I just put on the headphones and write while he's playing Call of Duty or whatever else so I don't get interrupted. I hate being interrupted when I write. It's not a pretty picture. =).

These are just some of my writing preferences/quirks. What's yours?

Favorite Word of the Day: Twee

The sugary-sweet poem her boyfriend recited to her on Valentine's Day was just a bit too twee for her taste, never having been one for cloying sentiments and gifts.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Life is an incurable Disease. ~Abraham Cowley

But one I'm not in a hurry to cure.

KST.

Excerpt: THE VAMPIRE'S SLAVE

2010-08-12T01:23:00.002-04:00

As I'm working on the major revisions of what was once titled HUNTED, to keep my sanity, I often venture into other smaller writing projects to give me a break when I'm not doing that or critiquing one of my lovely partners. Tonight, mainly because I'm too lazy to write a blog but want to attempt to keep this regular, I'm going to post an excerpt to one of those writing projects (nope, not HUNTED, not yet. Sorry peeps--yes, I just used the word peeps). So, without further delay, here's the first 310 words of

THE VAMPIRE'S SLAVE: EVANESCENT TWILIGHT

By: Katie S. Taylor

Vaguely, I remembered the world outside the mansion walls. It was like a distant dream to me now, something whimsical, almost phantasmagoric, and too wonderful to have actually been real. The memories, dreams, were nothing but loose sand drifting through my fingertips, unable to retain or hold onto it for much longer. The particles kept falling, carried away on an invisible wind too light to hold me, leaving me behind with the darkness that reached out with spindly fingers, holding me back—keeping me prisoner, bringing either immense pleasure or unadulterated pain, whatever Regulus’ mood dictated.

Even thinking of the devil, I felt him twitch, slowly awakening from the Slumber of the Dead. He’d wake soon, and then come for me when he was ready. I wondered what the plans were for this evening: dinner, movie, proposed BDSM, maybe some scrabble, perhaps. It was hard to tell with Regulus. He was too moody, too easily angered. I was never sure what the fading twilight would bring when it came to Regulus, but hopefully, tonight would be one of the better ones. Yet, the knot in the very depth of my stomach told me otherwise.

‘Suppose I should get ready for him, I thought, after a second reluctantly rolling off the full-sized bed and out from the now-threadbare duvet. My bare feet hit the cold wooden floors, and I shivered, wanting to crawl back into the cocoon of warm covers and stay there. But, I couldn’t. The last thing I wanted was for Regulus to have to track me down. We’d already gone through that before, and I had no desire to have a repeat of it. Not tonight, anyway. Maybe tomorrow I’d push him a little, if I was feeling froggy enough. There wasn’t anything like pissing off your vampire captor after all, right? Right.

&&&

No favorite word of the day (or quote), but, whoever reads this, pick out your own favorite word out of the excerpt and tell it too me. Until next time!

KST.

2010-08-10T14:28:00.000-04:00

Hmm... It's been a few since I last did one of these things. As I'm waiting for my brain food to wake my muse up (as well as the WRITE ON CON to work for me, though my optimism is dwindling it ever will) I decided to take a quick break and write a short blog--which both short and quick will be. Last week was all hectic-ness and anxious tension for the upcoming weddings this past Saturdays. Frankie's cousin and two of his friends were getting married all on the same day, and being the good girlfriend I try to be, accompanied him, though I really didn't want to--sacrifices are about love and relationships, though... Anyway. After Saturday was over, Frankster and I needed some serious one-on-one time away from everything. So, we headed to Beckley for a spur of the moment stay (though we had to go Sunday anyway to take the pictures we had bought the week before). Well, one thing led to another and we spent maybe a couple hours in Beckley the entire time we were down there. The rest of the day was spent in Oak Hill (love, love, love Tom's!) and Fayetteville, going to the New River Gorge and Hawksnest for a jet boat tour.

Being originally from that area, it was nice to be the one giving directions and knowing all the facts and tidbits for a change. But, anyway, we went, we saw, I about had a panic attack on the tram ride down to the river for our jetboat tour... Yeah... Apparently my fear of falling to a grisly death is much for acute than being on a boat without a life jacket. Literally, I freaked out and held the necklace my mum bought me last Christmas like it was a Rosary or something--not lying. It was bad, but what was I supposed to do? Chicken out, and in my Super Girl shirt? I think not. Go me, right? Eh...

Apart from that, though, it was a good trip. I missed my babies, Odin and Zoe, but they're sprawled out on the floor sleeping now. I'd never seen a dog look so happy as when I walked through the door. Poor Odie and Zoe.

There's a brief update on the occasionally, almost exciting, but mostly boring life of Katie S. Taylor. I'm back to writing now and editing and reading over Mary's and Kathryn's, and Shelleigh's work. =).

Favorite Word of the Day: Millinery

She saw the hat outside the millinery's windows, and couldn't stop herself from going in and buying it, despite its price.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

Life is simple, it's just not easy. ~Author Unknown.

I think that says it all.

KST.

2010-08-03T13:54:00.000-04:00

Major revisions are in order. I need to break down, buy some ink, and then print out my entire MS. It'd be a lot easier to see what I can cut or move if I can spread the pages out in front of me. A lot maddening, but there's a method in it, if I were to paraphrase the popular saying. *Sigh.* Also, thinking about rewriting the first chapter's opening. It's a bit too reminiscent of another popular novel, apparently. I don't remember the beginning of it, but I'll take others' word for it and rework it. Change the setting a bit. The beginning's the hook after all. Can't let people think its another crappy Twilight knock off. Back to the drawing board! (Maybe I should just work on my fantasy novel instead...take a break...hmm...)

No Favorite Word or Quote today.

KST.

2010-07-27T00:26:00.001-04:00

Sometimes, the day starts out so promising--refreshing, especially after a less than great weekend... Then... You have to wonder why it seems nothing ever wants to go your way. It's a little annoying, but every dog has his day, I suppose... Just gotta keep your head up, and be thankful for what you've been blessed with so far. Even if you have to wonder about that too, at times when it seems to want to screw you every way possible without a care in the world. Sometimes it seems hopeless, far more aggravating than it should be, but... Hopefully, sleep will help, and tomorrow will be better.

No Quote. No Word.

KST.

2010-07-24T01:31:00.001-04:00

I've just finished looking over Kathryn's chapters and have sent them back. Like always, they didn't fail to disappoint. Chester's personality is coming out more and more, and I can't wait to read more. She's left me with a cliffhanger and I can't wait to see what happens. I can only imagine!

Mary made some changes to her work, and went ahead and sent it to me to look over earlier in the week. It was returned that day. Like always, the changes helped it along. I'm waiting for more of her story to read after she's happy with all her revisions and changes. =). I'm waiting until I finish applying all her edits before I send my complete MS to her to read over in entirety from start to finish to see if there's anything else I should cut, or if it's good as is.

There was something else I was going to add here, but I can't think of what now. Oh well.

Another form of art I like, besides just nude, is op art and that of the abstract. I couldn't tell you why other than the fact both mystify me. Some of them are so out there and beautiful, so strange their wondrous. True, I'm not an art buff, and I'll never claim to be, but I see the beauty in them. The meaning I take away from it may not be what the creator had intended, or what others commonly think, but meaning when it comes to creativity, I feel, is a very loose thing.

Abstract and op art is so weird, so enigmatic, it draws you in... At least it does me. I can't speak for others, only myself. I get lost in the design, contemplating the greater design of it--of life, and perhaps that's what it means for me. I'm unsure, and it's much too late to properly analyze it, so until next time.

Favorite Word of the Day: Prolegomenon

She had never been a fan of obnoxiously long prolegomenons, preferring to jump straight into the story rather than read the introduction to it.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

People must have renounced, it seems to me, all natural intelligence to dare to advance that animals are but animated machines.... It appears to me, besides, that [such people] can never have observed with attention the character of animals, not to have distinguished among them the different voices of need, of suffering, of joy, of pain, of love, of anger, and of all their affections. It would be very strange that they should express so well what they could not feel. ~Voltaire, Traité sur la tolerance

I know, I know--stop it with the animal kick. Blame this one on Drag Me to Hell, but first, on to what's currently on my mind at this particular time in life and space (What exactly is life, though? What is figment and what is reality? How do we know this is true, what we see and feel and hear and taste? How can we be sure we haven't just gone crazy and concocted this elaborate idea for our own personal fancies? But that, my friends, is for another day.)

Many of those who care little of the animals, give little thought and observation to their behaviors. Why should they care how they act, how they possibly could think, what they could feel when soon they'll be a macabre stuffed piece on their wall? If even that. The possibility they could just be killed and left there to rot, the hunters' sadistic laughter echoing through the forest for all the remaining animals to hear as they hide. As you can guess, I loathe this. I loathe hunting. It isn't a sport, and if it is, it is a perverse and twisted sort of sport I want nothing to do with--that all too many find amusing...

Animals are exquisite creatures--beautiful. People say that's why the practice stuffing them and mounting them on their wall. Personally, I like what Ellen DeGeneres had to say about the matter: "I ask people why they have deer heads on their walls. They always say because it's such a beautiful animal. There you go. I think my mother is attractive, but I have photographs of her."

I find nothing beautiful about a stuffed animal. Instead, I feel loss, sadness, and a deep-seeded disturbance that civilization thinks this way. Once killed for sport, for game--their essence stripped away as they are taken from their habitat, from the natural beauty of the world, then the lose that majestic, enigmatic, beautiful sparkle that makes them so awe-inspiring. It's sad the only way to preserve these beautiful creatures are by zoos, a small attempt to keep their beauty alive. And honestly, how much beauty translates over in a man-made habitat where people can gawk and stare and children can yell at you all day? Not very beautiful. they sadden me, in fact...

As I watch my rabbits play, my dogs too, I realize their beauty. Rabbits may not be cuddling creatures, they may not even be as openly affectionate, but that isn't why they're amazing creatures. If one would sit and watch a rabbit's actions, even if for a few minutes, one would know what I speak of. That is, if they aren't one of those savages who enjoy stuffed animals, who enjoy killing them for sport and laugh and pride themselves and other on it.

They're quirky characters--amusing and rewarding to watch and be around. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

Now, some may wonder where this came from and how it relates to Drag Me to Hell. Anyone who has watched the movies can probably already guess, but for those, I'll tell you, so be warned to spoilers.

In this movie, the main character, Christine, is given the choice to help an old woman or tell her there is nothing she could do. To get the manager's assistant position, she chose the latter, the gypsy woman cursed her. You see where I'm going with this. Anyway, once the demon starts coming after her and she visits with a fortune teller, he tells her a sacrifice is in order. At first, she vehemently refuses--yay, you go girl and all that jazz. Then, one little attack and she stalks the house with a butcher knife without any remorse and kills her kitten--a little, defenseless, baby kitten that was lying in a basket of clothing all sleepy and adorable!!

That sealed the movie's fate in my book. The obvious ending I could live with, but the baby kitten (another question, why do we sometimes feel it necessary to use redundancies such as "baby kitten;" if the cat is a kitten, then obviously it's a baby. Perhaps this is just something I do?)... What was the point in that than to show mass cruelty and get a good reaction and cajoles from sadistic watchers? Thankfully, the goat later on got away... I think. I'm not quite sure, I didn't pay attention to it much after that.

It instantly annoyed me. It's also like The Book of Eli. Thankfully, Frankie's mom forewarned me about the beginning and how it opened, knowing I wouldn't want to watch it if I saw it so I covered my eyes and ears until Frankie gave me the 'OK' and it was over. In the beginning, when it first opens, you see Eli and then you just see him shoot a cat! Okay, it's supposed to be a post-apocalyptic world, but couldn't it have at least been something else? It wouldn't have been okay, but cats?! Do people really hate cats so much? I love cats, absolute adore them. How can anyone not think they aren't? Just look to the left.

It's just a mystery to me. Again, though, I'm extremely animal sensitive, something Frankie doesn't understand. I don't understand how others can't be, and he (and others) don't understand why I am the way I am. (Just wait until hunting season and his family picks on me about their kills; be sure you'll hear about it). But I'll end this particular rant tonight. I'll fix the typos and such tomorrow or the next day sometime.

Goodnight!

KST.

2010-07-22T23:22:00.001-04:00

"I've always felt that sexuality is a really slippery thing. In this day and age, it tends to get categorized and labeled, and I think labels are for food. Canned food.” -- Michael Stipe.

“Men always want to be a woman's first love - women like to be a mans last romance.” -- Oscar Wilde.

As I was going through and saving pictures today from myspace to my hard drive, I realized just how annoyed I was that my ex had went through when we were together and had the audacity to delete quite a few of them--all because I wanted to change my profile picture and she didn't want me to (yes, she was controlling to a severe degree). It didn't hit me until today just how positively infuriating it was. Those are pictures I will never be able to recover again, never be able to get back. Just like the time I spent with her.

I'm sure some people are thinking "What's the big deal? They're just pictures." Except they're not, and it's not even the point of the matter. It's about respect, about treating someone as if they mean something, at least like a human being. And she knew nothing about that, and probably still doesn't. Personally, I highly doubt it and quite frankly don't care.

Sometimes--a lot of the time--I wonder why I stayed as long as I did before she took it too far, before I came to the conclusion I was smarter and better than that. Was it all just to prove to her that someone wasn't like all the rest, and would stick around, never mind she proved she was like all those people who she claimed hurt her so terribly? Was it to prove something to myself? Or was it all just a feeling of love spawned from hurt, from rejection--neglect--abuse? Was an intense feeling of need that developed into something I was too blind too see, all because I hadn't given myself time to properly heal from the wounds inflicted just mere months, weeks, before she came into the picture--charming me with a beguiling smile, later I found was nothing but trickery at its finest? Was it?

Was it because Andrew had crushed me in more ways than one, and she was there, the devil disguised as an angel--and I... I was curious, naive--still, after everything? I knew always felt an innate attraction to both sexes, could see the beauty in both, and... Some people call it rebound, yet I loathe that word. Except the problem remains I have nothing else to term it, if that is the case. I was her rebound for an Internet crush gone wrong, and she was mine for a year-long relationship turned sour, perhaps? Except my feelings developed into something strong, and hers... She didn't have the courtesy to stop it, even after all the emotional and possibly physical cheating, knowing I wasn't strong enough to walk away--not yet. Not after everything with the previous year before, when everything inside me was still bleeding... Only now can I see that by staying the wounds were never allowed to heal, but remain open, raw sores--abrasions over my heart and lacerating my soul.

Because the hell she put me through...

Andrew may have started to turn crazy, but there's something about raw, constant, emotional pain that can't compare. At least with Andrew there were times when things were good and I could relax. Not with her. It was a constant, day-in-day-out thing of stepping on eggshells, watching what I said or did in fear of angering her. I didn't want the night to close with me sobbing myself to sleep with her abusive texts littering my phone, her cutthroat words ringing in my ears.

And when the end did finally come, it was relieving.

Why I did the things I did with either Andrew or Megan, I'll never know. There was always that hurt after Andrew, and when Megan and I were together, and when we were together it was pure hell. Andrew turned crazy and threatened me on numerous occasions, and yet... Perhaps it's like Stolkhom Syndrome. You now, where kidnapped victims eventually become quite attached to their captors... Distanced away from everything... I shudder.

At times, I wish I could say all the things sometimes harbored inside my chest and trapped inside my mind--tell her how awful she really was and there was nothing bad about her home life; she was a spoiled brat that treated those around her horribly. Sometimes I wish I could hurt her as much as she hurt me, be as cruel to her as she was. I can't, though, and it isn't because I have an ounce of feeling for her anymore. I don't. Do I hate her? I used to. Directly after the final straw hit the camel's back, and was betrayed not by just her but by someone I considered a friend--I hated her, loathed her very existence and wished horrible things on her, had a sick sense of delight when her and that once-considered-a friend's relationship failed, and she was crushed. Perhaps a very human reaction, perhaps not. It quickly passed, though, and now...? Now there's nothing. She has no power over me anymore, and I can't say just how wonderful it is.

Because this time it's different. There was no rebounding when Frankie and I got together. There was just him and me. I was healed, had gotten everything out of my system. We both know we're not what would be considered each other's "first loves," something which is silly and too overrated. However, I'm okay with that. First loves never, or at least rarely never last. I don't want to be his first love. I'll let the black-haired girl take that role, because I'd rather be his last. He may not even love me as much as he did her or even his second love, the scrawny blonde, which I'm such he'd dispute, but due to past relationships won't believe--not really. It's too hard to believe it, especially when you're still on the lookout to be crushed, yet once more.

They did a number on me, Andrew and Megan did--Megan coming out the victor, I think, though I'll admit it takes two for a relationship to fail.

Frankie's patient, though, and thank God for it. I was lucky to catch him (though maybe he caught me?), if I dare even say it, in fear of jinxing everything, yet one more. And yet, some may call me a fake for going from a guy, to a girl, and then to another I guy. Already I've faced harsh accusation from both ex's for it. But it isn't any of their business, and has nothing to do with them. I say bullshit to everything they or anyone might say. I base who I am with solely on what I feel and vice versa, what's in their pants doesn't matter. Will I label myself bisexual, then? No. No, I won't. Labels are much to overrated, and referencing Michael Stipe, I am not canned food. I am just a girl, a young woman, though it feels strange on my tongue, following what she feels. Whether it good or bad, one only knows at the very end of the conclusion.

I'm not sure how mine and Frankie's chapter will close, or how long the story will be. I'm not sure where life will take me, but I'll follow a trodden path others have followed, until the fork comes that I must make my own. And until that time and even after...

Favorite Word of the Day: Ostreperous

She flinched, migraine forming as the ostreperous crowd continued to scream and riot around her.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” -- Albert Einstein.

I suppose he wasn't such a moron after all. =).

KST.

2010-07-22T02:06:00.001-04:00

I've been in a procrastination mood today. I read over some revisions Mary did to her story, and sent my comments back to her. And then after a conversation we had, I spent some time looking at the Pub Rants blog (a blog maintained by Agent Kristin Nelson, and one I recommend; it's highly informational and amusing), and looking at the query information and examples of how to right a good pitch. Safe to say, afterward, I tried my hand at a query. It wasn't the first I'd tried, but it was considerably better than the ones I've written in the past. Am I saying it's star quality, no. I think I still need a few tries until it's good enough, and an opinion on it before it sees any one else's eyes other than wonderful critique partners.

Procrastination, though, can really be bothersome at times. Possibly, however, it is necessary. A mental way to let you know you need a little break. Obviously, I needed one. Hopefully, tomorrow I can get back on my game and finish applying the last of Mary's edits and Kathryn's so I can send back the full MS to Mary so she can read it from start to finish.

As you'll read on my Twitter post, The L Word is a sort of guilty pleasure for me. I love the show and the characters and the relationship between the character. For anyone unfamiliar with it, I'd recommend it. After Frankie watched it, he was surprised how much he liked it. Same with True Blood, though I still prefer the books to the show. *shrugs*

Earlier we were watch America's Got Talent. I'm fond of the rock climbers (can't remember their names). Anyone who watches the show know who I'm talking about though; the ones who "dance" on the walls. I've yet to discover, though, if my least favorite group has made it through. I hope they haven't, ugh. The air guitar group. Seriously, air guitar? Sure, it could be an amusing act if you're into that thing. But it's America Got TALENT, not America's Got an Entertainment Act. When I told Frankie that, he found it quite amusement, though I fail to see the amusement. It's true! There's plenty of people they passed up in the auditions who actually had talent, but yet let that group through? I could do that, and I'm not a talent person at all!

I just don't know...

It's late, though, so until next time.

Favorite Word of the Day: Burgle

Not long after the shop was burgled, it closed, the owner unable to keep it open.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

“Do not brood over your past mistakes and failures as this will only fill your mind with grief, regret and depression. Do not repeat them in the future.” -- Swami Sivananda.

I'll be the first to admit of being awful for this.

To any who say they hold no regrets, I call bullshit.

To those who truly mean it, I applaud.

Regrets, even seeming less small ones, are a very natural thing to the human mind. We think about what went wrong, some longer than others, and ponder over why we did them--hoping somewhere in the equation we can place the blame somewhere else other than ourselves. I'm not foolish enough to do this. Foolish I am with certain things, but not so arrogant as to not accept my own faults. Without accepting them, one can never learn from them--can never try to get over them. A harder task for some, which then allows for them to creep into your mind, poisoning your system, and darkening your soul--that special place inside no one can touch, or rather, they shouldn't be allowed to touch.

A heartbreak one can survive, but one's soul shattering--darkening into a black mass to swallow you whole... There's no turning back from. And if not harnessed, will be the exact thing to happen.

Has my soul ever been touched, I sometimes wonder? It's been brushed, I know that. Brushed before I pulled everything in and pushed it so far away in was nearly extinct. However it wasn't, and even now I feel the effects of it creeping in on me. A harsher, more cynical attitude--a paranoid outlook--closed off... And I know if not harnessed, then it too will creep in and I will once again be faced with failure.

Do I want that? Do I wish for that to happen?

No.

And perhaps that is why I write--to unleash everything dark within, an attempt to let the wound bleed and clot inside. Perhaps that's why the violet-eyed girl is still present, always coming back. Though vastly different, I feel a connection to this girl, or perhaps she just makes it so--won't leave me alone, fooling me. Either way, she is here, along with others. I've started on her story, and I wonder how many others will there be? What is Amberlyn's purpose in this? Nothing. Not everything has a purpose, and perhaps these rambles are just mindless and pointless, yet addictive.

Addiction is an easy thing to acquire, an easy thing to fall in love with.

I'm not here to speak of addictions, though. Weariness is calling me, and I'm ready to rest. I'm ready to start on Hunted again, and work on writing Blood Bound. How far I will get tonight, I'm uncertain. Not far, that I am certain, but it has to be done, and the longer I linger from it, the more I wonder the outcome of Amberlyn's story. Which, it is a good thing I do wonder. It means that I'm losing such a close relationship with Hunted and can go back to the long-process of editing it--a slow process, but a necessary evil if I ever have even the slightest hope of doing anything with it. Some may think it a pointless, stupid endeavor, but long ago I stopped caring what others think.

It's tiresome to do so, and I refuse to anymore.

One difference between myself and Frankie, or at least in this particular circumstance.

Too many troubling thoughts tonight, much too many to properly think straight. It's time to retire, I think.

KST.

(Sorry for the typos.)

2010-07-20T17:45:00.000-04:00

I was correct about the culprits. Yesterday, when I told Frankie about it, he said it was probably his younger cousins and confronted them about it. True, it was only after he saw how unhappy I was about the whole ordeal, but he still did. When he did confront them, of course, they tried to pin it on the other one. Quite frankly, I didn't care which one had done it. They were both in on it. and the poor rabbits were scared even of me when I went out there. It's hard telling what the destructive little devils did to scare them that bad...

Obviously, I don't like them anymore, though I wasn't fond of them in the first place for other reasons. At their age, they should have the sense not to do moronic and cruel things like that. Kelsey, another of Frankie's cousins, is 3 going on 4, and she knows better. It just infuriates me still, and it isn't like the parents care, either. They only laugh about it, while everyone else makes excuses for them.

Do you know how annoying it is after a while when everyone just keeps making excuses for people? Another day being when I mentioned Frankie's uncle picking on me about my fair skin and after so long enough was enough. Of course, they just made excuses for him, as if that's supposed to make it all okay. Am I not entitled to just be able to be irked about things like that without being told not to be, followed closely by the excuse of the day?

It really is quite irksome, and my apologies for ranting. Where else am I going to rant, though? No where, that's the answer to that particular question.

Everyone else is entitled to their annoyance and to their bad days, yet it's as if I'm expected to just take everything and be okay with it--as if I'm expected to have perfect days every day, and if I am upset over something, I'm to get over it. Of course, it could just seem that way because I'm annoyed at the time, but all the same... It doesn't help matters any...

Enough ranting, though. =).

I took a break from editing Hunted for the day. Instead, of working some on Blood Bound. I've made some progress, which is good. There's still a long, long way to go, though...

So until next time...

Favorite Word of the Day: Peloton

The cyclist parted from the peloton, off the park's main path and onto a short cut that would take him to the finish line before the others came close to it.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

“Give them pleasure the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare” -- Alfred Hitchcock.

Which there is a great amount, when you wake up and realize it was only a nightmare. When you realize the fact you were about to die, be murdered--killed--was nothing more than a figment of macabre imagination, there is an almost suffocating swell of exuberance, or relief that it wasn't real--that you're still whole, alive, and the Reaper isn't after you...at least, not yet. There's relief in knowing the world has not yet gone up in flames, consumed by complete darkness, that hell has yet to break open and destroy us all... or that the "Rapture" has yet to come...

I refuse to go into that, even thinking it will bring the fear and uneasiness back. So I will leave on that note, and be back another day.

KST.

2010-07-19T15:22:00.001-04:00

While I realize I can be a little over sensitive when it comes to anything animal related, is it really that outlandish to expect a little intelligence or respect from people when it comes to my pets? For example not sticking hard candy and gum through the wire of my rabbit hutch for them to chew on. I mean, come on. Gum?! Actually, anything at all without my expressed permission! Certain things can hurt them. But, I forgot, people find harming animals something to laugh at nowadays. Ugh...

It was done recently too, because I went out earlier to fetch their water bottles to fill them up. I have an idea who the culprit is, but I loathe to point fingers until I know for sure.

Either way, I'm irked. And that means when Frankie gets back in, he's going to get upset too...

So much for a wonderful day... ugh.

Favorite Word of the Day: Annoyed

I'm annoyed someone had the audacity to do something like that.

Favorite Quotes of the Day:

From beasts we scorn as soulless,

In forest, field and den,The cry goes up to witness

The soullessness of men.

~M. Frida Hartley

&

The question is not, "Can they reason?" nor, "Can they talk?" but rather, "Can they suffer?" ~Jeremy Bentham

I think they're pretty self-explanatory without a full blown rant. Trust me, if that were the case, then that particular rant would never end.

KST.

2010-07-18T14:47:00.000-04:00

I awoke gasping in fear, still held tightly in the thralls of terror... Another nightmare. Am I surprised, though? Night after night I run in terror through a world of pandemonium and horror, knowing death is just behind me...the end of the world is near. I did find one nightmare ironic. It would figure the only time I wasn't afraid to face my pursuers was when Zoe was involved.

The rest, though, was nothing but running... A desperate struggle to survive against the monsters chasing me, trying to pull me back to them, into a vortex of death and agony.

I won't dwell too long on them. If I were to write about every nightmare I have every night, then that would be all my blog posting is about. And today, that is not the sole purpose.

The last week was a busy one. I couldn't find time to get on here to write a blog. I worked on Hunted throughout the week, and on Friday, I did my partner critiquing. I enjoyed the added chapter Mary wrote about the year Kaylee was there without Arabella to torment her, as well as how the relationship between her and Devlin developed. It was a needed addition, and worked wonders on the overall flow.

As far as Kathryn's, I love how Chester is so believable, and look forward to learning more about him each week. I can't wait to dive into the two chapters she sent me this week to learn more about Chester's life, as well as who this mysterious Marissa is and the relationship between them. =)

As for Hunted, I've finally began to apply the edits Mary, Kathryn, and Shelleigh have sent back. So far, so good. There was one small hitch after a person asked to read it and I allowed them too and they made a comment about a particular way I write. After talking to Mary, everything smoothed out, though, and I saw her point. Every one's writing style is different, and when reading, it sometimes takes takes a bit of time to get used to that style. One example is when I was reading Thirst by Christopher Pike. It took me a while until I warmed up to his writing style, and determined I would end up liking the book.

Besides, that was one person's opinion when all the other people I've let read Hunted have yet to point out the same concern. I'll still listen to their opinion, but the ultimate decision is mine. I'll thank Mary for giving me that bit of advice. =).

This is all for now. No Favorites right now.

KST.

2010-07-13T03:29:00.003-04:00

My heart's pounding in my chest; my hands are shaky. Fear is still lingering in my mind, the nightmare fading now.

You know how big of a bitch it is to never get a goods night sleep when you're constantly plagued by nightmares, or when you need to just rest because you're head's killing you? It's a colossal, super-nova sized bitch--that's what it is, pardon my french. I'm not going for pretty at the moment, I'm going for eloquent (such a pretty word, though, aye?) I want nothing to hinder my true meaning, and that's nightmares are a colossal-sized bitch.

As I mentioned above, my head has been killing me since last night, and the pain refuses to leave me. Closing my eyes against the onslaught, I felt myself begin to drift away. Perfectly fine with me because sometimes, if I'm lucky, sleep will help stave off a migraine. Sometimes. Today, or rather tonight, instead of helping, it only worsened an already bad predicament.

As I was saying, I felt myself drift away until I was no longer aware on an conscious level. I had drifted away into the unknown, a place one can only reach in the grasps of sleep. For me, this is a place of terror and pain. It took only seconds (or was it longer? Who can really be sure of time in such an elusive place) for monsters to come in hordes, and the car to spiral out of control, plummeting off the perilous cliff to the ground below--and this, my friends, is where the dream was interrupted with a startled jerk and a pulsating heart.

Even now, I can still feel the fear clutching my--a grip so tight I can feel its talon digging into my tender organs. But, this is nothing new to me. Nightmares are a frequent thing in my world, and honestly, I'm not sure how it would be not to have one on a regular basis. I'm used to them now. How healthy that is, I'm not too sure.

I remember a few years ago when Andrew and I were still together, when I first confided in someone of my nightmares. He was the one who mentioned perhaps I had chronic nightmares, had me take a quiz he stole off some psychologist-like/all about dreams, nightmares, and the human psyche website (at one point, I wanted to be a psychologist; how far I've drifted away from that). I don't take much heed in such surveys, but I did start looking into more and more. It would seem to fit the description, but yet I have no reason as to why I would have them.

Everyone has a deep, dark secret they're hiding from the world, yes, but I wouldn't think would have anything to do with them. Some of them, yes, when it deals with certain content, but all of them... No.

Some people get inspirations from their nightmares. I have one a few times, the rest... I'm afraid to revisit them. I don't desire to be sucked back into the torture, don't wish to relive the horror. And horror it is too. Some may think it an exaggeration, and that's fine. I would think it's an exaggeration, but for any who suffer from the same ailment, knows what I mean. And those who claim to only after it is mentioned, seeking attention like my most recent ex, I don't understand them. Why would you wish that upon yourself? Never in a million would I. For once, I would like not to wake with a pounding heart... For once I would love to not be trapped inside a hellish place, petrified but unable to wake, only running...trying to escape, but knowing death is following me. No, I don't understand these people, and I don't understand my dreams.

It's said, though, that all dreams have some sort of meaning behind them. If so, am I truly that disturbed inside? That unsettled? I don't like to think so, and I'm not sure I believe the interpretations I've found. How can one really be sure what a dream means? Who decides? Perhaps it is just an over active imagination. Why couldn't it be? Why does everything have to have some sort of meaning in life? Why can't it some things just be what they are... Why can't some things just me simply meaningless? Why do we humans feel the need to justify everything which happens, explain everything experienced or witnessed? Why can't something just be?

I have no answers for any of these questions, and I don't seek them. Not truly. I'm happy pondering them, wondering the unknowns of life, and keeping the mystery alive. Once that mystery is gone, then what is life? Nothing. Nothing but a mundane existence of everyday, boring occurrence. And that, I fear almost as much as my nightmares... Almost.

Moving on...

The Internet has finally come back on. Frontier seems to have gotten the problem fixed. Apparently, their partnering with another company, so someone told Frankie's mother. I'm not sure. I'm only glad it's fixed, and hoping it stays fixed.

It's late, though, and I have an early day tomorrow.

Favorite Word of the Day: Guttersnipe

The socialites considered her a dirty guttersnipe, a low-down vagabond unfit to share the same street as them.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"My husband said he wanted to have a relationship with a redhead, so I dyed my hair." -- Jane Fonda

Personally, I love hair dye. It's one of my guilty pleasures. I don't do it much anymore. I haven't in while, all so my hair could become healthy again. My hair color stages went from strawberry blonde/red at birth, a natural platinum blonde throughout childhood, a dirty blonde entering adolescence, piss yellow after my first botched up dye job, dark brown a year later, then golden blonde followed by other blondes all through high school (never the right shade thanks to the natural red in my hair), then red after high school, and then brunette followed by auburn followed by black followed by black with natural red highlights as it fades... There was some purple, orange, fire-red, and blonde streaks at some point in there, about a year ago, but it didn't last long.

I've never had a problem changing my hair color, but never did I do it because someone wanted me too. Andrew always liked the red. It was just lucky for him I couldn't get rid of it because back then I tried desperately to do just that. Megan I never cared too much about what she liked. She never liked anything when it came to me, too busy watching and screwing around with every other thing willing to spread their legs, and Frankie... He prefers dark hair--always have. However, I didn't change my hair to dark because of him and I never will. It's too close to all the other girls he's been with in the past, and none of them do I hold a high opinion of--their personalities...lacking. However, that's another rant for another day and one I don't really care about anymore.

This one is about hair dye... Well, no. It's about feeling the need to change for people so they'll like you better.

I loathe this idea people have. The one which dictates over their psyche and controls their actions. I've fallen victim to this very thing in the past. It started with Andrew, carried over with Megan, and while the need to do it for Frankie is as strong, the automatic thought process is. Perhaps it wouldn't be if two of the world's worst relationships hadn't occurred directly after the other, but as it happened... They did.

While he wasn't the full case of it, he was one reason a near eating disorder was spurred, hearing comments of my weight... Why I felt the need to start to change, to try and be something I'm simply not. I'm not what's considered sexy. I'm not what is considered beautiful. I'll give people average, perhaps, because I know it's the truth. Yet, there was a pressure to try and be something I wasn't. It hurts hearing every day how you're a "butterhead" or "face." It hurts knowing you'll never be the skinny, beautiful, perfectly made-up girl the person you're with ogles at, watches with such blatant lust it's near revolting... Yet, it's not them you feel ashamed of, but yourself. You feel ashamed because you know, feel, you can't ever measure up, and you'll always be below everyone else...

I've struggled with this ever since I came to this place, a victim of teenage cruelty and parasitic relationships, and still do. I've struggled with my appearance, my weight, the self-reproach always churning inside me, and I've cursed myself for not being stronger than this to let others pull me so far down.

I won't go into the details of what my relationships were like with Andrew and Megan, the ones who truly have done the most damage. It still surprises me that they have, astounds me they were able to screw my mind over so much in such a short amount of time... And it kills me now because I know these issues still plague me, and Frankie... It's not a relationship helper, that's for sure.

He doesn't understand, and I can't really expect him to. He says he thinks I'm pretty, and can't understand why I don't see it and why I can't just accept it. Always I'm dumbfounded, flustered, on how to articulate to him what's going on inside my head...the feelings of unworthiness abounding through me. I can't explain any of this to him, and in the end, we're both left annoyed. Him at me, possibly, and me... At me too, because I can't be better as quick as I'd like.

I'm not sure how long it will take, either. It's always easier to believe the bad over the good, and when that's all you've heard for a decade plus... It's difficult. Anyone who feels this way understands, and yet may also think it's silly. I know I annoy myself all the time with it. Perhaps that's why I don't talk about it, but occasionally write about it?

I'm not sure, and I'm not in the habit of figuring it out. Not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.

Again, though, I doubt it.

The point of this... People shouldn't expect others to change, and it's truly sad when one isn't happy with themselves after so long of hearing negativity. It happens much too often, sometimes without even meaning too. It's a casualness people seem to have fallen prey to, an ignorance we don't realize we're doing, and a sort of pariah we refuse to speak about after its down... Or maybe we're the pariah, as is the true definition.

It leaves room for thought, but for tonight, I'm stopping the pointless rambles and putting this to a close--confusing typos and errors and all. I'll fix them later.

Goodnight,

KST.

2010-07-09T15:28:00.000-04:00

All my editing for this week is done!

I had to come to my mum's to do it because, once again, the Internet is down at Frankie's. I'm not sure what the problem is, but it's definitely a big hinderance when it comes to trying to edit and get everything back on time, as well as a damper on my blogging. On the flip side, it's also allowed me to stay on track and not get distracted from my own story. I've gotten quite a bit accomplished. I can feel the excitement I always get, knowing I'm close to end of finishing a read. It's the thrill I'm near the climax of a story, and for me, the best part.

I feel today, though, as if I'm rushing. Indeed, I am too. When the 'net will be fixed at his place, I'm not sure, so I'm trying to get everything I need to do online finished today. Thankfully, Kathryn and Mary make my work easy on me. ;). They're writing is great as always, and it's a smooth read through. A few comments here and there, but mostly it's smooth sailing. Their tales are just getting better and better each week, and I find myself enjoying them more and more.

Mary's added more content to hers, enriching the world further. There's a better mental visual in your mind of the world, the castles, and the people living in it. As far as Kathryn's, more and more of Chester's personality is being revealed, and I'm finding myself sympathetic toward him. I can relate to his character, and I love how she's making him seem so real. Shelleigh's been busy, so she had nothing for me this week. That's fine. Life takes priority, as it should, and any good critique partner shoulder understand that. Thankfully, I have all good critique partners. =)

I'm in a rush, though, so this is all for today. No Word the Day or Quote. Hopefully, everything goes back to normal soon.

KST.

2010-07-07T14:34:00.001-04:00

Between the Internet not wanting to work, to fixing glitches with comments on the blog, to being overloaded with things that kept dragging my away from the comp, to a busy weekend with the love (a very good weekend, though, =>) this post is very much long past due (it was supposed to be up Friday, and it's now Wednesday; yikes!).

Last week in edits was a good one as far as content (life kept getting in the way, though; an annoying pest). I enjoyed everything I was allowed to read and help on. Mary's story is coming together nicely. I've grown quite fond of Kaylee, the MC. The background info she's added has only added to the story. It was already good before, but now I have an even better picture of her world. If given the choice, I'd live there. ;). Each week I love seeing what else Mary's added.

Kathryn and Shelleigh's stories are both coming along nicely too. I love Kathryn's Chester. He's such a quirky smartass and an awkward "loser." And for it being such a "rough" draft, it's pretty damn well-written. I was expecting as much, though. Just read her blog, and you'll know what I mean. As far as Shelleigh's go, I love the imagination behind it. I'm a sucker for a good fantasy novel, as I've already mentioned before. I love the different worlds that you can be taken too and all the different characters you'll be introduced to. KaitLynn in particular is a nice character--cute and feisty, I enjoy reading her POV. Recently, Shelleigh's introduced me to the male lead. I don't know much about him yet, other than what I've read of the character profiles, but I can't wait to read more. Who doesn't love strong male leads in fantasy novels? Anyone?

These ladies, though, are incredibly talented, and their writing so vastly different. I love I've been allowed to read their work and watch it grow, and see how different each one is. I won't go into the details of it; hopefully, one day, you'll get to discover it for yourself. At least, that's what I'm hoping for. =). I'd definitely buy their work. And I, my friends, as a reader, am extremely finicky. It has to be a very good book for me to actually, truly love it/like it. Otherwise, it's just so-so read and I don't read anything else related to it. It's happened too many times to count.

Moving on because the days are short and there's still tons to do, Hunted is coming along. I've gotten back in my editing kick. Yesterday I wasn't ever on the comp, so today as soon as I finish everything up I need to, I'm going to get back back to editing. I'm soon going to add a WIP's page to my blog, one to accompany my short stories page. It'll just be an outline of what I'm working on, and what its about for anyone mildly curious. Soon, I'll be posting the first short story about the Violet-Eyed Girl. Keep a look out if you're curious. I just need to give it another once over. I wrote it several years ago, at a time I was worried about typos or errors. And that pretty much means it's riddled with them.

Zoe's finally managed to work her way up onto the couch beside me. Internally, I don't mind. She's my little writing buddy. I won't make her get down. There will be a day when she's not around to curl up beside me, be a faithful companion when no one else is around. I dread that day, fear it. Frankie does too, knowing there will be no way to console me...

He really is a sweetheart. I won't say too much, that pesky jinx, you know? But he is. For the 4th of July, he took me all the way to Alderson to watch the fireworks display. He could have easily taken me to one of our local fireworks showing, but he knew I'd never seen them before (yes, folks, you read that right) and he wanted it to be good for me. Now, Alderson is good bit away just to see fireworks, but he did it. And it was nice. I loved how they would echo through the entire valley between the mountains even after they'd went. They were very enchanting, like stars exploding in the sky, bursting into colorful flames to trickle down to the earth below. I kept making analogies of the sort; he said he didn't mind. He was just happy I was there with him.

Then, yesterday, was my first baseball game. I'm not much for sports, but he is. It wasn't as bad as I was expecting--just sweltering hot is all. Of course, he had to go buy me another shirt. Why I didn't think to wear a white one instead of a black one in the first place, I haven't decided yet. But he did, and then I lubed up in 70+ sun screen to keep from getting burnt... Thankfully we were in the shade too, eesh.

The only annoying part of this week was Frankie's uncle. Some people do not know when to stop, even when it make it blatantly obvious to do just that. While I realize, yes, I am fair-skinned and most people are tan-oholics, doesn't mean I am. There's a reason I haven't jumped on that band wagon yet, and it's because I prefer my pale skin of being tan. It's me, not to mention I find fair-skin to be pretty. The first time he made a joke about my fair-skin...okay. Haha, everyone laugh at my expense. It's fine; I'm used it to. A brief mention I like me this way, and I don't want to get tan... A second joke about being pale... Okay, whatever. Just say it louder I prefer it that way, and leave it at that... Then comes the third, forth, fifth, one hundredth joke about it and about Frankie never letting me out and so on and so on... So people don't know how to take a hint without the other person being blatantly rude. And no, I wasn't. I just left and went back to my humble abode before going to see my mum.

That's enough complaining for one day, though. I may post later. This one is rather short today. Until then...

No Favorite Word of the Day or Quote. Sorry for typos.

KST.

2010-07-02T01:34:00.001-04:00

So, not too long ago Kathryn decided to pass on to me a blogging award. I was shocked, and it's taken me this long to respond to her passing of said award. I blame it one being busy and distracted, but I'm finally doing it, and giving Kathryn the thank you she deserves. Which if you aren't following her, you really should be. She writes the best blogs, and is a very talented writer. 5-star reccomendation. As I was looking through her blog while procrastinating in the editing of Hunted, I finally found her post about this award, and here are the following things to be worthy of it (which if it's taken me this long to get around to it, kind of makes you wonder how deserving I am of it, aye?).

1.) Thank you, Kathryn. =).

2.) Seven things about myself (you could always go look in my about me section, haha). 1.) Sometimes, I talk to stars. 2.) I have an intense adoration of words and their etmology. 3.) I was extremely antisocial in high school, and still am to an astonishing degree (I'm going to turn into one of those reclusive homebodies, I'm telling you). 4.) I haven't driven my car since early November 2009; I hate driving. 5.) My hair hates me. 6.) Math hates me too, being the only thing keeping me from a 4.0 in college and high school; grr. 7.) My favorite word in the world is physiognomy.

3.) Frankie -- he's the lover, and what grinds his gears absolutely amuses me; he's an absolute smartass.
     Mary
     Melissa Dean
     Guinevere
     Bekah

4.) They will be informed between tonight and tomorrow. =)

Favorite Word of the Day: Macerate.

The girl was macerating away, her body a skeleton after so long of fasting.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” -- Howard Thurman

If there's one thing I love, it's quotes--little, catchy segments that have the opportunity to resonant throughout time. I found this one today while browsing the net, procrastinating before I started the real work.
"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it..."

I can't stress enough how much I adore those two sentences. All my life, people have always asked me what I wanted to do, and when I told them asked after what did I want to really do, as in the real world--teacher, doctor, so on and so on. They couldn't accept the fact I WANTED to write. It was an almost impossible idea to conceive or even to play with. Ludicrous, almost. So, for the longest time I wrote only for my pleasure, hiding it from the world and not telling anyone who knew me what I was doing. Perhaps it is different in larger places, but some place small, like where I live, people only look at you weirdly if you say you write or want to write. Especially peers back in high school. Perhaps it was because I was so different than them, or that was the popular belief. My most recent ex once told me the reason it wasn't working and would never work with anyone was because I was just too mature for my age--had always been compared to everyone else we knew.
Why?

And if so, what is so wrong with that?

Why must I be labeled a prude, and hear whispers about being weird? That's a different rant for another day, though, as too much emotion lingers too closely to that particular dam, threatening to break it down. The point of the matter is, people here look at you weird if you want to do something like that--for the most part. There are some who are as creative and artistic, even more so, some who hadn't been afriad to be open about it. I'm not afriad anymore, and throughout the years have grown confidant in what I want to do, what makes me truly happy. In part, this is because of the encouragement from readers from the net when I would post my work under a penname and from my two high school English teachers. While they had their faults, they were good at what they did, and both encouraged my writing on.

Writing... It is what makes me come alive. It allows me to go places I'll never have the hope of going, and meet these characters which life wasn't nice enough to grace us with. I'm not complaining, though. Else they wouldn't have come visiting me, asking me to tell their story. Selfish? I don't think so. Ask any writer, and they'll say the same thing--a real writer who has a passion for it. Doesn't matter if they're published or not. When I speak of being a writer such thing as publication is a trival matter--unimportant. Rather, let me explain this. It is important if that's what you want to do, however it isn't essential.

One day, would I like to be able to be published so I can share my characters with the world? Sure, absolutely; I'd love to share my worlds with others. Will I be heartbroken if it doesn't happen. No, and I won't stop writing because of it. I'll just keep trying. Just because one person doesn't like it, doesn't mean everyone will. People have different opinions, and those opinions deserve to be respected even if one doesn't agree with them. Do I agree with everyone's opinon? Hardly not, but I'm not going to bash them for it. If it's not published, that just means that ones who do like it won't have to pay ridiculous amounts of money to read it. No, I jest...a little.

But why most I conform? Why must I do what others want me to, and why must I feel ashamed, guilty, when I don't?

I shouldn't. I only have one life to live, and I plan on doing it how I see fit. It may be boring to others, and I may be "too mature," and I may not have a great job and be rich in the end...but I'll be happy.

And that, my friends, is all I've ever wanted.

KST.

2010-07-01T01:19:00.000-04:00

Recently, I've discovered the beauty in nude art, particularly of the black and white variety. There's a certain line drawn in it, one bordering between eroticism and mesmerizing. There's a certain truth, a certain beauty surrounding it. There's something compelling about these artistic photos. It shows the true beauty of the human body, both male and female, and those who can truely appreciate this will be able to see it.

I've always been able to see the beauty in both sexes--the soft curves of a woman, the rough muscles of a man. Each are beautiful in their own way, so it is hard to compare the two. Some people are unable to see the beauty in the same sex, only the opposite. They would find such art offensive, people such as myself revolting.

Personally, I've never been in the habit of hiding certain aspects of myself. This is one such aspect.

However, certain people would find this type of art revolting or taboo, and not because they are a woman looking at a woman, or a man looking at another man. They would find it disturbing because of what the eye sees, calling it "pornography." I argue this notion, though. There is a thin line between nude art and trashy porn and it is all in, to me, how it is...let's say delivered, protrayed. There is soft eroticism here, I can't lie because the body itself is an erotic landscape, but that isn't all that is here--that isn't the message being whispered to me.

To me, nude art is an expression of one's inner beauty, baring their inner soul. It isn't something aimed for sex, or to get some pervert off. It is to express one's natural beauty, in this case showcasing it in the shadows of black and white as it glances off the smooth planes of the woman's stomach and pert breasts, which Denis Sm does perfectly. I have found his art to be a guilty pleasure, actually. I enjoyed looking through his collection. Not all I enjoyed, but some were unforgetable.

If you too can find the beauty in such art, and not see is as porn or taboo, then I'd reccomend looking at his small collection. There are others better, but I found his quite enjoyable.

I think that's all I want to say about nude art today. I don't feel like going on, and bashing it into others' minds.

All day has been nothing but procrastination of a severe degree. For whatever reason, I couldn't concrete at all on editing my own work. I blogged, fixed up my blogged, added pages and a short story in the Writing Corner, and a million other things other than what I had set out to do. It needs to get done, and I hope tomorrow I can. Actually, I know I'll have to. There's no other choice in the matter.

No distractions, except maybe if Frankie wants me to go down with him to our little piece of a WIP home. I went down there today and took Zoe. She enjoyed the "adventure." It was the first time I'd actually visted. It actually quite nice. I hadn't realized how big the yard would be. But that's not a bad things; the dogs will love it.

Really, though, that's all I have to say today. Feel free to check out the short story; more are on the way whenever I get time.

Favorite Word of the Day: Bedlam

The city was submerged in bedlam, buildings falling and people killing while the world crumbled around them.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"Procrastination is like Masterbation; in the end you're just screwing yourself." -- Unknown.

Isn't that the truth? Procrastination has done nothing for me yet but allow me to fall more and more behind, which I don't need at all. I have things to do, and certain things that it is imparitive I complete. If not, then... Well... I'm just screwing myself over in the end.

KST.

2010-06-30T00:07:00.007-04:00

Frankie and I were talking about something he heard talked on the radio today. Apparently, in all relationships, one person is a "reacher" while the other is the "settler." And, if anyone is unfamiliar with what these terms mean, here's a little definition. A reacher is the person always looking for bigger and better "things" (ahem, better partner), and a settler is the one who thinks they can't get any better or are partially happy with who they are with, so they don't bother looking for "the one."

Personally, I say poppycock!

It is absolute rubbish to say all relationships follow this exact pattern. If that is the case, then the world is even sorrier than I once presumed. True, I find it hard to accept Frankie didn't "settle" for me or is still "reaching" for something better. After having it happen in all my old relationships, the last one being the most brutal, it is hard to accept anything else. I'm almost afraid to say he is different than my ex, though.

Even now, I fear if I say/write the wrong thing or get too excited, karma will find it appropriate to screw it over and take it away from me. And that is truly sad. Was I always like this? No, I wasn't. The majority I do blame on my exes, largely the last one, a psycho whore who turned me into a colder bitch than what I once was. I suppose it's a good thing I'm not a dormat anymore, but yet, I wish I could be more affectionate toward Frankie. While I'm afraid of jinxing myself, I'm also terrified that if I continue with this fear because of her, because of how bad she fucked my mind over, I'll lose him.

And that...that is a scary thought.

It's easy to drive someone away from you with fear, and this I know all too well. Yet, at the same time, I'm also worried if I fight harder to change, the outcome will still push him away. Too much worrying; even now I worry what his reaction would be to this post, so I'm going to get back on topic and return to what I was writing about.

Personally, I don't believe every relationship is developed this way. I know for a fact I'm not "settling" or "reaching." I'm just happy. There has to be more people this way too. There has to be some kind of real love out there, and not just a fabricated idea of it that's popular among people--the ones who do the screwing over, and the ones who don't have the spines to stand up against those people. If not, then relationships truly are a parasitic demon, and I'm left asking the question: why do we insist on being in them?

I don't believe they are a parasitic demon. If I can feel the way I do about a person, then why is it so farfetched that someone else could feel that way too, or even about me? Not about someone else who couldn't give a rat's ass whether they lived or died. I deserve that, and it's taken me this long to finally figure this out. I deserve better than all the fucked-up exes in the past. But this is about me, this is about relationships in general.

Every person deserves this, and I believe some people find it. Not everyone, but some--maybe even a good majority. Else, life really is as pointless and as awful as all the emo children claim. And that, I do not believe. Because even with all the violence and evil running the world, beauty can still be found in it. Usually, it's right in front of you...or lying beside of you--asleep and whisked away to the land of dreams, oblivious to this post.

Favorite Word of the Day: Vampire.

The vampire snarled, grisly fangs flashing in the moonlight as it looked at the vampire hunter with pure hate shining in its red eyes.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in." -- Morrie Schwartz.

This is too true, and something I am still learning how to do. While I am perfectly capable of giving out love--I can to the most extreme, until I can't anymore, though I'll never let anyone know--I'm not the greatest at accepting it. I question it a lot, at least nowadays I do, and I know he notices. It's been cause for a few of our quibbles. It is something I am still working on, an issue we entered into our relationship knowing about.

However, it isn't just with him. It is with all people in my life. I find it hard to accept any form of affection, for whatever reason. While I enjoy it, I feel awkward...flustered...almost unworthy. Then, the guilt and self-reproach comes in when I don't properly return it, and am left feeling like a bitch... Seeing the looks on their faces, feeling it roll off them. It's not a nice feeling, and I'm still struggling to change this. If I'll ever be able to, I don't know. But perhaps this is one reason why I find it so hard to let love come to me.

I don't like this portion of myself, so therefore I can't possibly understand why anyone else would--why anyone else would deem me worthy to give me any sort of affection or love. It's all one paradox I can't escape, a morbid circle that won't release me from it's inner walls. In all honestly, I'm unsure if I will ever get over this or the many issues that have stemmed from it. Always, I have never felt worthy, never felt good enough. I never had a reason to, not until him. And now... I fear the damage is almost irreversible.

This is the first time I've ever openly started to discuss the inner workings of myself. Sometimes, though, enigma's need to be exposed; they can only remain mysterious for so long before becoming annoying. Perhaps, then, I can heal. It's a thought, one I'm not completely sure about. But at this point, I'm not sure I have any other choose. It's a thought, and one I'll ponder and write about here. I've decided I like this blog better than my live space, so this will be my blogspot of choice.

Until next time,

KST.

2010-06-25T18:20:00.009-04:00

I was on Writer's Digest earlier, and came across this post I found interesting, and thought I'd share here. It's asking about a writer's top ten things. Top 10 Things to Keep You Writing, Top 10 Ways to Procrastinate, Top 10 People Who've Influenced You to be the Writer You Are Today, and Top 10 Authors You'd Like to Meet, more or less. If you go to the forums, you can find the original post, but I'd thought I'd share on here as well.

Top 10 Things To Keep Me Writing:

1.) Me.
2.) Determination.
3.) I can't hold down a "real" job to save my life.
4.) Plot Outlines.
5.) Compelling characters.
6.) My muse.
7.) Ambition.
8.) My mother.
9, 10.) I'm at a blank. Ask me later.

Top Ten Favorite Ways to Procrastinate:

1.) Researching names.
2.) Frankster.
3.) The Dogs.
4.) Facebook.
5.) Or Myspace.
6.) Blogging.
7.) Editing.
8.) Reading.
9.) Bing Maps/Google/Research.
10.) WD.

Top 10 People Who've Influenced You...

1.) Me?

2.) Mrs. Fair? For being adamant about making us fourth graders not use the word 'ain't.'

3.) Ms. Williams and Ms. Adams (though, I'm loathe to admit the latter), though it was mostly by giving me confidence. Not by their teaching.

4.) People haven't really influenced me, moving on.

Top Ten Authors I'd Like to Meet:

1.) J.K. Rowling.

2.) Edgar Allan Poe.

3.) Charlotte Bronte.

4.) Jane Austin (Working through her books).

5.) Joss Whedon.

6.) Mary Shelly.

7.) Bram Stoker.

8.) Robert Jordan.

9.) Dr. Suess.

10.) Cesar Milan.

There you have it! My Top 10's. What're yours?

Moving on...

So, this entire week the Internet's been down. The power went out in the beginning, and fried the router... Just my luck, aye? So, today, after it was fixed, I spent betaing and reading through my writing partners' stuff and sending them back. They were all good. It's rather sad the world doesn't yet know the talent that just hasn't been published, but moving on. That's too close to another rant for another day.

Father's Day went without a hitch, except I bought the wrong sized shirt. He'll have to take it back and exchange it. Nothing too major, however. After we got back here, Frankie asked me to take a ride with him through the backroads up the mountain to his grandfather's grave. He knows I don't like ATV's, only having ridden one a grand total of three times in my entire life and still leery of them. I went, though, without complaint. I made friendly with the SPF 70+ sun block, made sure I was covered as much as I could without sweating like a pig and being atrociously disgusting, and then we were off. The only hitch immediately after was when my mascara started to burn my eye and contacts where my eyes were watering from the battering wind.

So, he had to stop and dig me out a better pair of safety glasses. No more hitches after that. It was actually nice. Just me and him riding through blossoming WV country, through trails and roads I'll never for the life of me be able to remember. Even having lived in the state my entire life, and this area for half of it, I have never strayed far from the main roads. Sheltered life, you say? Extremely...

Honestly, I'm unsure why the state of WV is given so much b/s (same with the accents! But again, another rant for another day). It's actually quite beautiful. There's something about the tranquil woods and nature that's so mystifying and majestic, so wondorous and spellbinding. So far back and away from civilization, it makes you never want to return...

Until you see the big-ass, all too fresh bear print in the mud down the same trail you just decided to explore. Yeah, there's something different about being in a sheltered car and seeing a baby bear in the middle of the road, but in the woods...unprotected...alone... Nu-uh. That's when I contradicted myself, and we promptly sped out of there, bypassing the turkey (yes, a real turkey).

After that, we made our way through the back roads to his grandmother's house, where I then presented her a bouquet of flowers, specfically picked with her in mind. Sucking up, you say? Never. I've never learned the trade of kissing ass; that would be my ex. No. I just happen to like picking flowers, and had Frankie keep stopping (when bear tracks weren't anywhere to be seen) so I could pick some for me, and then later for her since we were going to see it.

Over all, it was a nice day.

The rest of the week also wasn't anything too horrible. Frankie finally managed to talk me into getting into his pool. Katie + water = mad hysteria. But everything went okay. I had my floaty, and it was only 4 feet deep, so that helped...until he scared me...

I suppose a good thing from the 'net being down was I got to read a book his mother bought me as a gift, Thirst by Christopher Pike. I'll admit, at first I wasn't sure I would like it. The main character came across a little cocky and a little bit of a home wrecker (loathe home wreckers; Dish Network/Echo Star is full of 'em, at least the call center here is), and I wasn't sure I liked how the book itself was written. It took a while for me to warm up to it, but I'm thoroughly glad I did. I have only a chapter or two left, but I recommend it to anyone looking for a good vampire read and a kick ass female who isn't butch or selfish. I'll have to see how it ends to determine it's place in my list of books I like (because I have yet to find one I love). Perhaps it'll take a place in the love list, though. Which I must correct myself, Harry Potter has come the closest to finding a place on that list, and quite possibly has.

It's a shame. I love books.

Favorite Word of the Day: Scuttlebutt

Regina loved listening the the latest scuttlebutt, her version of herion.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

You enter into a certain amount of madness when you marry a person with pets." -- Nora Ephron

So true. True, Franklin and I aren't married, but we are serious. Also true, he wasn't the one with pets, but I was. And

as he will tell you, in his most favorite of endearing terms (ahem, insults), I am his "crackerhead." Crazy and absolutely harebrained, especially when it comes... well... everything. Especially animals. Personally, I like to think I'm just a sensitive soul, or a tree-hugger...according to Frankie again. What can I say? There's a certain amount of madness when you're with a person with pets. =).

And since we're talking about pets, here are the ones who make me crazy!

Mercy, my first baby.

Kenna-baby, all grown up.

Zoe-Girl, all grown up.
And Odin. God of War... or Pup of Fear... lol.

KST.

(Sorry for the weird format today.)

2010-06-18T18:24:00.003-04:00

Vampires.

Love 'em, hate 'em--either way, they're now a cultural icon in the world. Everywhere you go, you'll find some variation of the vampire, as it has been for centuries now. Legends of the undead have been around since the beginning of time, and they have mystified people long before sparkly vampires were ever concieved. Giving those sparkly vampires credit for people's fascination of them seems a bit unfair considering.

But why this today?

Only because I was on the Writer's Digest Community the other day, and saw a post about how they're sick of vampires because of the sudden abundance of them in novels, TV, and so on and so on. Sost blame it all on Twilight, as if saying people who happen to be unfortunate to write about them after Twilight came into existence is trying to copy the story.

I think not, and it's a little offensive.

Mostly, I write urban fantasy, paranormal stories and the like, and usually there are vampires in them. Whether they are the main characters or just side characters, they are there. Do I do this because I'm striving for my stories to be the next Twilight--absolutely, most 100% not. I tried to get through the first book after my mother bought it for me--hated it. While I give kudos to Mrs. Meyers for putting her work out there to get criticized and the world to see and judge, the stories are not for me. That sad, not everyone who writes about vampires and werewolves do it becaise of her success. As hard as this may be for some to comprehend, some of us just love the lore and creature (before they became pansy-fied and sparkly). I find it unfair to say it is because of Twilight people are writing about vampire now.

People have always written about vampires. Google it and you'll find a slew of writers who did it long before Twilight ever sparkled into existence (pun intended). Personally, I like my vampires closer to lore and a bit demonic. Always have, thanks to BtVS and Angel. And what about all the authors who had written about vampires before Twilight, such as LKH who was even before Buffy?

I suppose they had a prophetic vision and saw Twilight being born, and thought to get on the band wagon ahead of time, aye? Of course... That makes so much sense. So glad I'm now aware of this knoweldge. Yes, that was sarcasm. If you are tired of vampires, don't read or watch anything about them. If you just don't like Twilight, stop paying attention to all the media about it. All I'm saying is not everyone who is unfortunate enough to have written something about the undead is doing it because of Twilight or it's "trendy." Some of us don't care, and are only doing it because that's what we love and what interests us. You don't see us saying please stop with all the trashy romance novels being dished out or any other over-used, over-worked plot.

Those are just some of my thoughts on the matter--agree or don't agree, it's the indiviual choice. The point of it is to not bash others for what they like and their opinion. That's all I'm willing to share on the matter right now, so moving on...

I'm positive I didn't like most of yesterday.

There's no particular reason why. It just wasn't a good day. Sure, it had it's okay moments, but it was just... I don't know. It was just "one of those day." A large part had to do with the little sleep I had the night before. More dreams, all of which have escaped my memory. The feeling of fear is still there, but of what I was afraid of, I couldn't tell you. It happens often, so I'm not too obsessed with it.

As soon as I woke up, it was impossible to go back to sleep, though--in part because the dogs wouldn't shut up... While I am against removing a dog's voice box all because you're tired of hearing it bark (another rant for another day), I can't tell you how it grates on my nerves to hear Odin's bark. It's very high-pitched and very whining for such a large dog, and hearing it in the early morning hours, as well as Zoe's (she's a small dog, imagine the bark)... It gets annoying.

So I got up. I didn't brings the rabbits in because Odin started throwing up, and I wanted him to have my full attention. So that on top of just little things just... Set the day up to be sour. Not to mention I didn't hear anything from Frankie until about three hours after he was supposed to get off work at 5. Was he okay? Did he wreck? Was he just out running around somewhere? I didn't know. He probably called his mother and told her, I'm usually the last to know most things, but still...

He finally called, though--said he had to stay over, and then we left to go to town. The day started picking up, then, and it ended better than okay--all reasons I won't go into. I will say I added two new movies to my Sarah Michelle Gellar stack. She's my favorite actress, and for the longest time I had the biggest crush on her back in school. I think it was the hair and the show Buffy, but anywho... I did forget to pick up another brush, but it's okay. I ended up finding one around here. I got my dad something for Father's Day, picked up a few supplies, got food (Wendy's french fries are almost heaven), and then came home to watch the Hangover. Funny movie for anyone who hasn't watched it, and that's saying something because I'm not a fan of comedy. I prefer Thriller, Horror, Adventure/Fantasy, Animated--anything other than most chick-lit and comedy.

The ending of the day was nice, though. I still haven't watched my SMG movies, yet. Suburban Girl & Possession. I've watched Suburban Girl before--a bit chick-lity, but love it. Haven't ever watched Possession, but I'm excited to. Whether some people like her movies or not, I love them.

Another reason the day turned around for the better were kittens! We went to the mall for something, and I ended up going into the pet store to give the poor animals some attention like I always do. They had kittens--two little grey tabbies and a ginger one. They were precious, and so small and soft. I had to make sure to wash my hand immediately after, though. Frankie's highly allergic to them, something which sucks for me...

The rabbits are inside today. The dogs are being kept away.

It's Frankie's grandparent's anniversay. His family is coming in, and I'm forced to make an appearance. While most of them I'm used to now and like, the ones coming in I'm not. Especially his cousins. I've never exchanged a single word with the youngest one, the oldest cousin is okay , and the middle one is just... I'm not sure with some of the comments. Wish me luck.

Anyway, I'm off! I'm going to get some things done around the house and edit some of Hunted, check my email, and all that good stuff. =)

No Favorite Word or Quote Today.

KST

2010-06-17T18:05:00.004-04:00

I'm not sure if I like today or not... It started out well enough, I suppose. Well, minus the nightmare, but I'm used to them. Chronic nightmare sufferer and all, and don't even ask me why. Frankie (as well as past people) think it's because of what I write, read, and watch as well. I'm not too sure. They say dreams have meaning, but that's for my other blog. This is the rant-about-every-day-life blog, not deep insightful blog.

But it started off well enough. After finally waking up, I immediately got out of bed, not wanting to get sucked back into the nightmare world. So, here I was, stumbling around, eyes heavy with sleep and not wanting to open, and I'm running into everything. I can hear the dogs barking, awake and wanting out, and I'm a scary mess with wild bed hair (wild hair period; I've long given up on neat, pretty hair) who has to feel around for a brush and clip before I can take the runts outside, where I'll be blinded by sunlight and Odin will step on my feet.

I do this, and then go take a shower. I love showers for more reasons than they make one clean. They wake me up and relax me as much as I'll ever be, and that was just what the doctor ordered. So I washed, shampooed, wasted some hot water, and then decided to drag myself out of the hot spray and face the world... How much fun, right?

So, I turned on my computer, let the dogs have run of the house, cleaned, edited some of Mary's story, and then after a few hours, decided to bring the rabbits it. Between watching them and editing, it was pretty noneventful but that's fine with me. Then, Frankie gets off work and comes home, and... He seems to be in a bad mood after coming back from his people's place, which naturally made me wary because I couldn't figure out what was wrong.

This goes on for a little while, both of our moods turning a bit sour. The rabbits return to their hutch outside, and Frankie leaves to go work on our homestead...only after telling me what his father had to say about it. Which, let's just say wasn't anything nice, not that I'm surprised. Let's leave it as I wasn't happy so I can retain a bit of civility. Eventually he returns, and it's tense, and finally... Well, things never really go "un tense" but... I'm not sure.

At least I didn't get a migraine--not yet, anyway. Here lately, I've been getting them every day, and I'm not sure why. Thank god for Excederin migraine, though, the only thing I found which helps. But anyway, moving on...

I finished beta reading Mary's story, and I have to say I enjoyed it quite a bit. I think what I liked most about it was the fact it didn't follow the traditional male-saves-helpless-female formula fairytales seem to live by. It's almost as if it was written in stone--written by very sexist males. Instead of prince charming racing to save the day, it was the damsel, and the princess the charmer. It was refreshing, and the writing made it easy to read too, a certain ambiance surrounding you and sucking you in.

Now, though, it's back to my own pet project--though speaking of pets... I named my white & blue-eyed little girl finally. Her name: Himalaya, aka Laya for short. Houdini hasn't tried anymore disappearing acts, though I haven't allowed her the opportunity, either (good reason, aye?). Laya loves food I've come to notice, always staying in the food pan for the most part, and Butterscotch loves to explore (which I think problems are going to come out of the arrangement we all have here). Zoe and Odin still don't know what to think of the squirts. I refuse to let Odin around them, though. After seeing how he's reacted... It'd be a bad, bad day...

Frankie's still hoping the pet rabbits will steer me away from wanting a cat. I doubt it. Cats are my animal of choice, even before a dog, and I don't think anything's going to replace that.

Back to the arrangement... I'm the type of person who gets extremely attached to her pets. And seeing how I'm buying Butterscotch's food, bedding, and taking care of her in everyway possible, as well as spending time with her, it's obvious I'm going to get attached to the rabbit. They haven't done anything with her, and I'm just waiting for Kelsey to get tired of her (she's 3; what kind of pet is a rabbit for a 3 year-old, anyway). I've seen it first hand with the puppy. I don't know. I just see problems coming out of it, eh...

Getting away from animals, though...

I'm back to editing my own works for right now. It's easier to stay focused on it after taking a break from it for a little bit.

Breaking off that topic, has anyone ever watch Andrew Zimmerman? Especially the Kid's episode tonight? I just don't know how he does it. Major props to the man! I could never do it. I don't know how some of these people eat it some of the things they do--like bats or turtles, since it's on right now. Bats are adorable, and what do turtles hurt, huh? True, it could just be the animal lover in me talking, but still...

Well, I'm off (and so is this show; it makes me squeamish to watch animals being cooked and eaten). It was a long day and not a long enough night, and I'm probably going to blog on my other site too. Until next time. =)

Favorite Word of the Day: Resplendent.

The resplendent meadow took her breath away as she looked upon it, loving how the sunlight danced across the nearby waterfall's surface.

Quote of the Day:

Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony." -- Guillaume Apollinaire.

While this is probably true for some, I must disagree with Mr. Apollinaire. Poets and artists are just an extra bonus. Nature is true beauty, and if given a peaceful mind, will awe even the biggest cynic. There's a certain intrigue and unknown which surrounds nature, and men (ahem, I prefer people, since women are here too) are still attempting to figure it all out. That's what I think, or rather, all I feel like sharing.

Enjoy!

KST.

Houdini is the little blue Dutch, Laya is the white Holland, and Butterscotch, another Dutch. =)

2010-06-16T16:12:00.004-04:00

I finally got my rabbits!

Deb called yesterday and said she could deliver them to us that day while she was out running errands in town, but only if she was able to pick them out. She couldn't have brought the whole litter. There was just too many of them, and she had too many things to do that day. So, Frankie told her okay, described what we wanted, and ta-da! I have a white and blue-eyed Holland Lop and a blue Dutch (both still unnamed, though I'm pretty sure I'm naming the blue Dutch Houdini). They're really cute, a bit skittish though. I'm hoping if I work with them, they'll get used to me. I "lost" one of them today. I brought them in to play, and was watching the white one to make sure she didn't get into anything, only looked away from the blue one for a second, but when I looked back POOF! She was gone.

I don't know how long I searched for her, and not once did I find her. By this time, I was freaking out a little, of course. Finally, I just took a deep breath, put the other two (Frankie's niece also got one; a butterscotch and white colored Dutch that I take care of) in a large tub so they could play without me worrying they too were going to disappear, and waited. The bunny had to come out eventually. It couldn't have just disappeared. And lo and behold, I saw it about an hour or so later, creeping from beneath a drawer. I waited until I could draw it out before putting it with the other two. Since it was raining, I didn't take them back outside. Rain doesn't like me. It equals massively poofy, frizzy, curly hair that just isn't pretty. I let the dogs out too, and fixed it so they couldn't torment the poor guys. Zoe I'm not worried about. She's just curious, but Odin... He's a puppy, and I'm pretty sure was dropped on his head several times before we got him. While I love him all the same and his a momma's boy, he's... Well... Best not to mix him and anything little...unless it's Zoe.

Which I've been having to monitor them closer lately. While he's just playing, he's been hurting her more and more. He's a large puppy. She's a small dog. Sometimes, it just doesn't work out. He needs my Kenna-baby to play with. =(.

While, speaking of Odin, he ended up hurting me again. All accidentally, but I can barely move my thumb without it hurting. Sometimes, it's good to be a little strong (which, I'm not--at all), especially when your puppy is going to quickly out weigh you and is as tall as you when he stands on his hind legs. Which! I have to stand on a bucket to get into my rabbit hutch. I have to at the mall, too (though it's not a bucket, but little stepping, erm, steps), but I thought the hutch would be the right size. Lapse of intelligence right there. Frankie has to cut the legs down some so I can get into it easier. The world's out to get short people, of that I'm certain.

On to something other than my darling pets I have come to a startling realization I believe to be true. Frankie and I were discussing it the other day when we went out somewhere. You know all those articles about what to do and don't do in marriages and relationships? They all gear toward a 50's theme. Basically, women do everything you can to please your man, and men...expect your wife to be dolled up constantly and answer to your beck and call.

Poppycock!

While there isn't anything wrong with pleasing your significant other, make it a two way street. Don't expect one to do something you aren't willing to do. That's selfish and inconsiderate. Frankie knows better than to do something of the sort, and I do too. Having been in a double-standard relationship before (two, in fact, with a girl and boy), it isn't pleasant. There isn't anything fun about it, and even if you do please the other person, you're still left feeling like crap because they don't care about you as much. It's pointless.

Do's and Don't are stupid when it comes to relationships. Any time I've ever attempted to follow them, the people have left me. If it isn't going to work, it isn't going to work. Acting like a Stepford Wife isn't going to fix it. It's a little disconcerting.

But before I get too far into that particular rant, I'm going to stop and move on. Perhaps I'll continue it when I do my other blog.

Frankie's gone to do some work on our WIP homestead tonight. I'm surprised he did since it was storming earlier, but I should have known it wouldn't stop him--not with something this important. We need to work fast, at least according to him we do. And he's probably right. I'm only paying for it and deciding what plants get to make the cut (rose bushes, apple trees, and a couple other cute sapling trees I took a liking to). Hopefully, he listens. =(. I love trees, and the wild roses are absolutely beautiful!

Poor Odin... He still thinks there are rabbits in the tub because he can smell where they were. Zoe too. They're over there just sniffing it, or in Odin's case staring down in the crack between it and a layer of dry wall I laid over it, having nowhere else better to place it. The rabbits, though, our outside in their little hutch (which Frankie gave me the okay for Houdini since it was better than Mad-Hatter; now I just have to name my white & blue-eyed little girl, which is proving tough!). And now they're trying to get into the bag of rabbit food and eat it... Poor babies...

Well, that's about all for this post. I may post something on my other blog tonight. I don't know. We'll see how inspired I get. I have to go read over Mary's story, and give her feedback. =).

Until next time!

Favorite Word of the Day: Cap-a-pie

Covered cap-a-pie in flour, the chef glared at her young assistant.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"Wisdom too often never comes, and so one ought not to reject it merely because it comes late." -- Felix Frankfurter

Better late than never, right? Not really, but I have a love/hate relationship with this quote.

KST.

http://katie-s-taylor90.spaces.live.com/

2010-06-14T20:46:00.003-04:00

Good news! Franklin and I are officially land owners!

I got the money out of the bank today and bought it. Due to technical things, the deed was put in his name so I wouldn't lose my insurance through my dad. It was a must, and I don't mind, anyway. Frankie's been worried sick what my mum and dad will say when they find out. I only answer with it doesn't matter because this is my choice, my money, and I'm an adult. If it proves to be a mistake, then how would I learn from it if not from doing it? I don't think it will, but one never knows the end result of life. I'm not nearly as worried as he is--not really worried at all to be honest. Do I know they'll be angered and disapprove? Oh, yes. But if I can handle their judgement and opinions when I dated a girl (a Christian family, mind you, finding out their youngest was in a serious relationship with a female and could find the beauty in both sexes), then I think I can handle this small hurdle. I mean, at least I'm not damning my soul to the fiery pits of hell, right?

We're supposed to go look at the rabbits tomorrow. The women, Deb, is just waiting for when Petland wants to buy them off her. Thankfully, the Lops are ready now too. We get first pick, though, before they're taken there. So, we're saving at least two creatures from possible sickness and mistreatments. The people who work up at our local Petland, though, are pretty nice. They can't help it the puppies they're sent come in sick, which most of them are.

Frankie bought a little boxer puppy, Tyson, there before me and him got together. His ex talked him in to it (which his mum hated her. Can't say I was ever too found of her either, though for entirely different reasons; excuse me if I don't feel like going into a full-blown rant of the cruelty of middle school/high school). Anyway, from what I was told, the puppy never grew any and eventually died not long after he got it. A girl I used to be friends with before a falling out bought a little yorkie there, and he was sick for a long time after she bought him. Frankie knows quite a bit of people who bought pets from there and they've either been seriously ill or haven't lived long. He was actually extremely shocked when he found out my Zoe was bought from there, a little black & white papillion sweetheart (which I highly recommend paps to anyone! Just be firm with the potty training! ;P). I never had any problems out of her, though, and she's over a year now.

I can't believe how much she's grown!

I don't think I'd ever buy another dog from Petland, though. I had got lucky with Zoe. I couldn't just leave her there after I found her. For a month straight I visited and played with her, was the only one to take her out. She was actually on sale--800$, and with taxes and everything ended at an even 1000$. I don't regret it, though. She's such a joyful little dog to be around. I'm definitely a pap fan for life, now.

Look at me, rambling on about paps and Petland. My apologies.

Until another day, and maybe something useful to rant about.

=)

Favorite Word of the Day: Jettison.

"Help me, before it sinks!" shouted the woman as she jettisoned a trunk and other small items off the small voyage boat, water lapping precariously at her feet.

Favorite Quote of the Day:

"Simplicity is the key to brilliance." -- Bruce Lee.

Which I full-heartedly agree. Why must things be more complicated than they really are? I prefer simplicity. It's so much more less hectic. Then again, I'm also ailed with severe anxiety and choose to be antisocial and reclusive because of it...

Oh well. I'm me, and Frankie loves me.

KST

http://katie-s-taylor90.spaces.live.com/

2010-06-10T14:56:00.003-04:00

There's a reason I love my pets--they love you no matter what...even if you fall down.

The cause: their big-ass bone was lying on the floor the other day and I tripped over backwards on it as I was yanking a pair of jeans from a stubborn drawer. Sounds hilarious, I know, but trust me--it hurt. I have a place on my hand--bearable, since I'm typing, but still. Instead of sputtering a stream of obscenities, I ended up in a massive dogpile--literally, with me on the bottom. Now, granted the Pap--Zoe--wasn't a big deal. She's all of ten pounds, maybe less. But Odin?

He's a German Shepherd/Saint Bernard mix, and at just six months he's a big puppy to be lying on someone a max of 110lbs! You can check him out on my other blog (which has different posts) and look at the pictures, or check out my myspace or facebook. And the scary part is he's still growing. Yikes! He's a big baby, though, and my injuries (and wounded pride) were forgotten. Too bad Mercy (he's the cat and the first out of my pets I got, bribery to get me to move here when I was still in middle school) and my Kenna-baby (a labbe, beagle/lab mix) isn't here with us. =(. I do miss them most terribly. But they have to stay at my house until Frankie and I get another place. Zoe was small enough to make the cut, and we bought Odin afterwards.

Still nothing from the rabbit lady, Deb. Hopefully she calls soon.

So, we went to Ryans last night to eat, and for once, we had a good waitress. Does one realize how hard it is to find a decent waitress nowadays, especially when the person they're waiting on has ordered milk to drink? Trust me, being one to never drink soda and always milk usually, it gets irksome. I'm always a quarter of the ways into my meal when they finally bring it, no glass or straw, and no refills afterward. Apparantly, one doesn't need refills or a glass or a straw or their drink at the beginning of the meal if they're drinking milk. But our waitress last night was superb! I'll never get another one as good, but hey, at least I have hope now, right?

I'm getting behind schedule again. The last couple days I haven't done much editing, I've just been updating my online accounts. Once all that is finished, I plan to be back on top of things. But maybe with this nice break, Hunted will seem fresh to me again and I'll be able to catch things I hadn't before. I'm looking in to getting a beta. Wish me luck.

Favorite word of the day: lily-livered.

He backed away from the gunman, lily-livered as he faced his own death.

Favorite quote of the day: If you only do what you know you can do--you never do very much." -- Tom Krause.

So be adventurous and do something you think you can't. =).

KST.

http://katie-s-taylor90.spaces.live.com/

2010-06-10T00:35:00.003-04:00

I did what I needed to do--I set Hunted aside and focused on something else for today. After working so closely with it, I needed to take a small step back and breathe. So, I focused on my Masochist/Sadist fiction--a collection of one-shot, short stories following...well a masochist in her woes about her sadist boyfriend. Honestly, I hadn't been expecting for the short story I just started out of the blue to go in that direction. But it did. There's something about the violet-eyed girl that just won't leave me alone. She wants her story told--just not in segments and portions anymore, as the one-shot short stories do, but the whole thing. I'm not sure if I'm up for it, yet. Her story is complicated, and she has yet to tell me the whole thing. I've gotten this far, and it's taken me since I was...sixteen.

She's a silent being... One that only speaks when she sees her opening. Her story deserves to be told, though, so I may attempt to tackle it. Who knows?

On to other things, tonight was fairly noneventful, but I enjoyed it. Just spending time with Frankie and our babies, =). It was nice. The CMT's were on, something I used to never watch until he came along (same with other award shows), and we watched that. I couldn't help but wonder WTF at Carrie Underwood's little dance when she was up there singing whatever song. Was it just me or did she sound awful up there? It could be possible, but I thought Miranda Lambert sounded great, soo... Hmm...

On a brighter note, I think Frankster's getting over our loss! He found this old-school camera, and has been playing around with it, taking photo's. It's spurred him to want one--ya know, the expensive ones, and not just the little digital cameras most people carry. It's whatever. As long as it makes him happy, then that's all that matters to me. =). Not to mention it WOULD come in handy. My camera's good, but the one he wants would be better. I think we'll check them out within the next few days...

Which I still haven't heard anything from the rabbit lady. She's supposed to give us a call some time this week so we can meet up and look at the Dutch ones. Nothing so far. =(. But I could just be impatient. It is a bad habit of mine in some circumstances, so you never know.

One more thing before I hop off here. Christina Aguilera's new album Bionic is great. You can listen to some of it on myspace. It's nice to have new stuff from her, but maybe I'm just a 90's kid.

Sorry for any typos. I'm in a rush!

KST.

2010-06-09T02:29:00.003-04:00

It's late, and I'm troubled with thoughts. It's true, I'm naturally an anxious/nervous person, so it probably isn't anything to worry with much thought. But, it's enough to keep my mind running a mile a minute and my stomach to twist in tight knots.

What to do when you have no one willing to beta your work? When everywhere says you should have outsider input, and you don't have the money to just pay someone to do it? It's ludicrous is what it is. Too many rules and strict whatevers. The internet isn't a sure-fire, safe way to get good critique, and you never know who you can trust when you have no one you know personally willing to read your stuff. It's a sticky situation, and sometimes overwhelming. Especially in the early hours of morning before the sun highlights everything, and night is still clinging to the earth in a desperate attempt not to fade away.

Almost despressing, really... And sometimes... Sometimes enough to make me consider quitting the whole endevor and moving on.

Could I really do that, though? Leave writing all together and get a "real" job because sometimes it seems hopeless? No. No, I couldn't. Even if Amberlyn and Kaleb only see the inside my head and the white of my paper, I won't stop--can't. I'll work on something else, and eventually share with the world.

No, what I need now is sleep. Sleep and allow myself to unwind, and the anxiety to simmer down and go dormant once more. Well, dormant to an extent. It is never fully dormant, but always there, lurking like an ominous presence. Anyone who suffers from anxiety knows what I'm talking about, and anyone who doesn't, consider yourself lucky. It really is as bad as people make it out to be. If I didn't absolutely have to, I'd never go out--but stay in the safety of mine (or rather Frankie's) home, where the only thing to stir my insides are whatever I see on the internet, whatever makes me think too much...unable to stop... Like a disease.

A nasty disease there is no cure for...

Until next time...

KST

2010-06-08T11:17:00.005-04:00

We lost one of our African cichlids, Demon, last night. =(. We were pretty bummed, Frankie more so since he's gotten more attached to them and was so into this hobby of his. And that just makes me even sadder, knowing he thinks he's a failure now. I've never been good, either, at cheering people up. I'm the silent, listener type--and that type never really helps anyone out too much. So, I don't know what I'm going to do for him.

On another note, we're getting a rabbit here in a few days. A Dutch and then a little Holland Lop, probably. I'm hoping that'll help cheer him up. We were getting it for me, but I'm going to let him pick them out, probably name them too, even though I had my heart set on Aspen and Asia. But for him, I can give it up. Let him pick out a little blue-colored one and name it whatever he wants, try and get him another African too. Maybe, hopefully, that'll cheer him up...

I haven't gotten any further on the editing of Hunted. I'm definitely behind schedule here! But I've been busy the last three days. Spending time with Frank since he works all week and usually he has something to do outside, so I'm left alone still. We mostly spent the weekend, though, just lying about, going here and there, Beckley yesterday--though we didn't get accomplished what we'd set out to do. No Tom's food, no military ID for him, and no new shoes for him, either. We did get the finishing touches of the rabbit's hutch done, though! So that's a good thing... And wow, look how much I've digressed... I'm so bad for that, rambling that is...

Back to Hunted... I did get a list of terms for the Amberlyn world-verse defined for future use. That's a big step as far as notes and things go. After this and the initial procrastination period before diving into Hunted, then I should get back on track. Time is definitely of the essence here! =P. There's a lot of editing to do, and a lot of novel to cover... but I'm dedicated. =).

KST.

Early Morning Musings

2010-06-06T01:21:00.005-04:00

It's late, I'm tired, and I'm still finding myself editing my novel, Hunted, trying to get it in tip-top shape. =). You know, they say writing is a solitary endeavor--a personal journey--and in a way, it is. The beginning, anyway... Afterwards, though, it takes more than just you to get the not-so finished product where it needs to be. Thankfully, all the nice people at Writers Digest are such wonderful helpers. Definitely something I'd advise if you too are in the stage I am in now.

And no, I'm not talking about tired--desperately in need of sleep with the knoweldge in a few hours I'm going to have to get up and start the day over.

Of course, I could always go to sleep. Obviously setting this blog up isn't me editing. What can I say? I found the blogspot, and instantly liked it, having been looking for a good blogging site for a while now. How much longer I can last, though, I'm unsure. Not much longer. Insomnia isn't always a good thing, and right now... Right now, I need to go either sleep or edit.

And the bright side to all this:... Ask me tomorrow.

KST