Sort of a Series

The third novel of mine, THE MAZE, is up for review on Amazon.com and should be available Tuesday evening.  This is good news for me as series type stuff is supposed to sell better, but about eighty people have read the second book, LAWMAN, and about twenty have read SACRED SIN, so I think the series potential is kind of lost out there in no man's land.

I love this book and had to end it the way that was  comfortable for me.  I am looking forward to hearing about how everyone else thinks it should have ended. I was so nervous about it for some reason I do not understand.  I hate the techy stuff and ended up putting up a cover that I decided on at the last minute.  I have no idea if it even matters.  It looks pretty nice actually.  When the sale on LAWMAN is over on December first, I will put SACRED SIN on a special promotion.  By then I should be ready with the fourth in the sort of a series. I know everyone who has read SACRED SIN or LAWMAN will want to read THE MAZE.  

Nothing

I have nothing to say.  I am restless and bored and feel no interest in anything.  So just move on .  


Nothing:  I realized at some point today that there is only one reason women buy cosmetics or go on diets, or get hair cuts, or brush their teeth or work out, or go to school, or be polite, and, if any of us care to go on a rant about how we are not really shallow, really go to school and dye our hair because of our self-esteem, and that nothing and no one can cause us to ever feel that we are anything but the most  distinctive individuals and we truly have come a long way, baby, consider that this finding is based on a life-long but very casual study of and interest in anthropology, combined with various opinions and knowledge about the effect of the basic structure of DNA and the complete unchange-ability of certain genetic characteristics that form our character and therefore anchor the most basic components of civilization.  This is the reason:

I

And, personally, I feel it is also the reason we get away with being so bitchy and it is also the underlying cause of every war ever fought.  I think a high IQ, though perhaps nice,  is a stupid benchmark, representing nothing, only giving some people something to tether their opinions to, and I freely admit, and have done so here on previous occasions, I am a  very shallow, very vain person.  But there are certain laws Mother Nature put into effect for a reason, and this photo is clear illustration of one of those laws.  And I know none of you can argue with me about this. It is also the reason I write fiction.  Very enjoyable fiction. 

Just Hanging Around, Waiting. . .

Anyone thinking about it, the free give away thing is a REALLY good idea.  27 downloads in 24 hours.  Too bad they don't BUY it at that rate.  Hopefully, someone will mention it to someone, etc. . .  But it has other side effects.  Besides a bump in blog hits, I actually had someone link to this site through Smashwords.  I was kind of thinking I was wasting my time there.  So now I am all fired up.

 THANKS EVERYBODY!!!

Okay. I Am Sorry

I have heard the coupon doesn't work, so the price for LAWMAN is zero until December 1, 2011.


I apologize for attempting to be clever. That never did work for me.  What was I thinking?

The Opposite of

I have been feeling well.  I worked on putting the Christmas lights on my Hawthorn tree.  I know it is early days, but I was so in love with it last year, I vowed to repeat it and to start when the weather was more mild.  I would be fine with leaving it on all year like Italian restaurants are allowed.  Every single time I would drive by my property at night I would feel gladness to see it.  Anyway, I enjoyed it and made some decent progress and the weather was wonderful.  But I had to stop sooner than I wanted to because every time I came down  the ladder I got all woozy.  A little wooziness doesn't bother me.   I used to go to great trouble and expense to artificially create that feeling. But I am a little too old to be hopping about on my prosthetic devices and had the wisdom to stop.  Only after I noticed each time the wooziness became a little more pronounced.

Then I worked on the cover pic.  I give up.  I will use the one I am not too thrilled with.  I need to get on with this.  If I improve it, replacing it will be no big deal.  Then I proofed a bit and found some hilarious errors.  I changed a few words but no ideas.  I like the "wrap-up" chapter and I was a little worried about it seeming corny.  But I have heard it is the usual for the genre.  I am getting so artsy fartsy serious about this project that started out as a little off shoot of my madness. The worst thing that can happen to a person is to start to take themselves too seriously.  Seriously.

So I have been sitting here a while, played a Big Fish Game, slow but decent art, so I persist, and blog surfed.  My hands are starting to hurt so it is almost nighty night for me.  BUT.

I have gone on this huge rant at least twice about having my ideas copied, and have placed a huge emphasis on the word SERENDIPITY (it being the subject and perhaps cause of the rant.) , to the point where even I am sick of the sound of it.  But weirdness happened tonight and I actually went to Dictionary.com to find out what would be the antonym for serendipity.  The best they could come up with is volition and that is not in the park where I am currently playing.  Serendipity is when you happen by chance on good or pleasant things.  What is it when you happen by chance on a whole string of incredible downers?  Blog surfing can be bad for your health.  You know how they group them on Blogger?  Like a bunch in Spanish or a bunch about photography?  I came upon one about the still birth of a baby.  Twelve seconds to click onward for that one, thanks.  Then a lovely young man had a whole blog devoted to his suicide, and these, no kidding were interspersed with advertisements about funeral homes, a story about what life held in store for a recent graduate of a school of funeral science (or what ever the fuck you would call that)  and a story about this historical cemetery that is falling into ruin and it was sold to a concerned care taker.  (Well, more than twelve seconds on that one.) I think the reason my hands are starting to hurt is I was too quickly clicking through these.  I wonder what kind of day the Google employee was having when he worked on that category.  Anyway, it was a stupid way to end a nice day.  And I'm not going to turn on the TV cuz last night I watched that whole movie where you don't realize George Clooney is actually dead until just the second before they roll the credits. (Have you noticed that the very handsome George Clooney has a VERY SMALL typically Irish nose?  Do you know what that means traditionally?  So sad.)

Well, I started reading Bret Lott's "JEWEL" this afternoon and was caught up in it, but I don't think I am going to continue with it tonight. I wish I knew where I could chance, serendipitously on something on the order of the "fucking yogers", or at least find that little corner in my mind from whence  that arises.

Geez.  I hope you are not reading this at bedtime.  What is WRONG with me?  And I honestly don't feel really depressed about this.  I feel kind of silly.

Down, down, down, the mountain.     

Cosmetics

Today I am going to talk about this wonderful new brand of make up I bought and tried out.  No, just kidding.  Do you know there are actually dozens of blogs on here that deal with nothing else but makeup and cosmetics?  They feature carefully lit photos of bottles of nail polish and open jars of greasy gray stuff that are there so you will want to run out and buy them.  Yeah.  I need some gray greasy stuff to put on which part of my body?

The thing is, two days ago I had the busiest day ever on my blog, with more hits than I have ever had before.  It was nice.  But here's the part I don't get.  It was one blog post that brought it in.  Why?  None of these people knew each other or told each other.  I had more views of that post and more comments than I have every had before.  How does this work?   I did no more promos than I ever do for anything I wrote, and yet, there they were.  If I had that many sales in one day, I would be over the moon. It couldn't even be like a grapevine as the people were too disparate.  It was almost like serendipity or happenstance.  (Oh, crap.  There I go again with the damn serendipity.  Blog land will be full of posts using the word serendipity this week.  Just watch.)

And today I came crashing to the ground.  Being up a few days ago just made the fall farther and more painful.  I have a brother who bought my book.  (I have another brother that didn't buy my book.)  He said he was very impressed with the characterization and the background, and as he read he tried to think of what might have happened or who had I know in my life that inspired some of the stuff.  But he couldn't finish it.  He  read 24% (he showed me on his Kindle) and he CAN'T read anymore because it is like a "chick flick".  I cannot imagine that, if I can sit and read a blog on Mises.org on whether or not it is correct or possible to copyright intellectual property and comment on the article and get into a discussion with an economist about the anthropological reasons why open sourcing will not eliminate aggression, that my own brother cannot get through  this easy to read, dialogue driven, light hearted piece of fiction just to see if maybe his sister uses any of his personal history in her story.

I have tried every thing I can think of to promote and tried a lot of things suggested by people in the "field", and nothing works.  I love this book and the people in it, and real humans just do not want to read it.  So where do the people reading my blog come from?  I mention my book in the blog sometimes, but no sales have come from that.  I cannot get from the one idea to  the other. Well, I am going to put up Book Three and Book Four.  Maybe even do that Print on Demand thing, and just die undiscovered and unappreciated.  Because I just want to do it.  Way more than I want to strip and recoat my damn kitchen floor. Or experiment with cosmetics.  I have nothing to lose. That's an easy one if you start out with zero credibility in the beginning.

IT IS JUST ME

When weird things happen and people react, they often say, "Is it just me. . . or. . .?"  Now I know.  It's just me.  No one else could be this clueless this long.  My grand daughter twins live here.  Dan would rather not be here.  She wants to be with her friend Jess, but Jess currently doesn't have a home to share with Dan.  Her mom told her last month to go fend for herself, so she is staying with a "friend".  Even so, Dan stays there frequently.  But her "stuff" is here.

We have three cars.  The Ion was almost solely for the  twins use since Fran got married.  It needed new brakes.  For over a year Dan said Miguel would fix them and the parts were $20.  This never happened.  Then Dan moved back and a tree fell on the car.  She has a job.  Cas nannies for Fran and is very much needed for that, so it is a job also I guess.  Anyway, when we got the Ion storm damage fixed we had the brakes done and new tires.  The storm part was insured; the other over a grand. Mind you, this is now our BEST car since it is ding free and has so much new stuff.  I just prefer my Buick.  When I can drive.  If I can drive.  But I think I told that story.

Tonight they walked in with their friend Jess and asked if they could take the car to drive to New York for a concert.  (We live on the Northern edge of Illinois)  These are the same people that came home with two German Shepherds a while back and expected me to go for that.  Basically that is why Dan doesn't live here.  And Jess's mom made her get rid of the dog.  But I couldn't. At that time, rather than stay with the tyrant Claudia, Cas gave up her dog and moved back here.  Dan and her dog lasted a few more months.  

Tonight, they could not actually even ask me about this.  Cas said, 'we have to talk to you about something' and then the three of them gestured to each other to pick up the conversational ball and roll with it.  No one did so I said 'you are not taking the Ion to New York.  Try the bus. You ruined the brakes and tires, didn't pay, blah blah blah."  The strangest part of this is that they  were so dumbfounded I refused.    I told them the only reason they have a roof over  their head is because their sense of entitlement and lack of accountability are inherited from their mom and dad.   I ended up refusing to discuss it further.  STFU was basically the way I put it. Along the way I mentioned how they never bothered to say 'if we pay for the brakes and tires can we use the car?' and Jess, uppity little bitch, says "We were going to bring that up, but you said no right away."
During the course of  the entire conversation, mind you I said 'NO' before they even had the courage to ask, the subject of them putting the wear on the car and not paying for repair came up about four times.

This (and the dog issue) falls into the same category as Lisa (their mom) calling me 3 weeks after my mother died to ask me how much money my mom left.  I know she was champing at the bit trying to let a graceful amount of time lapse.  And grandpa Llorca asking me whose fault was it, me or Louie  when my baby died of RH problems (so long ago, and NO, I can't let it go) while I was still in the hospital. To say nothing of the various and sundry other misconceptions I get screamed at for.  Misconceptions--there is a word I should study.

 Is it the look on my face?  Is it the way I talk?  things I say?  I know my voice lacks impact, and maybe that is why I scream and curse so much, but this is just the way I am treated.  I do not fucking get it.  I feel like I am totally a person who does what she wants, and you can go piss up a rope if you don't like it.  Maybe I give in too much, but some of this shit, they have to know it's not going to fly.  Some guy  said (TO ME) he asks every girl to have sex with him cuz sooner or later one will say yes.  (I didn't)  I think it must be like that.  I am no namby-pamby.  When my husband was out of work, I managed to support him and three kids for  years. Is that something I should have refused to do?  Would things be different if I had refused?  Yeah.  I'd be married to that asshole, Charlie.

When Lisa was evicted from her hard won HUD house for abandonment, I said to the case worker, "Where did I go wrong?"  And she said every single mother she talks to says that. 

Some days it is just so fucking hard to remember what part of my life is good, at least that I can actually take credit for.  And I have to fucking TAKE credit, cuz for absofuckinglutely sure, NOBODY is going to give it to me. Buy one of my damn books would ya?  Be a pal.

                                                                    COVER GIRL!!!
                                                        MY NEXT BOOK:   THE MAZE

Shuttlecock

Confession:  This is something I do not keep secret.  Sometimes I am guilty of using it as an excuse, or even as a reason.  This is not  nice, but I forgive myself for lots of stuff.  I take enough crap from enough people to balance out my few sins.  God said He is cool with that and the thing that I do not keep secret and use as an excuse is a gift from Him, so we have a comfy little circle going.  I am bipolar.  I am mid spectrum and don't lose it very often now that I am pretty well and correctly medicated.  I was diagnosed when I was about 32.  It was during an awful period of upheaval in my life, so I have always taken the diagnosis with a grain of salt since it seems it is apparently only a problem when I am pushed to the edge by stress or some other straining effect.  (Not that I don't have to deal with ups and downs, sometimes to an absurd extent, but doesn't everyone?  ) Plus every one in my family is a little out there, so it's not like I'm an exception or anything. And none of them are the type of people that even notice your peculiarities much less cut you any slack.

So.  I am feeling all warm and fuzzy because some of my writings got a bit of really nice feedback.You guys have to be careful with that stuff because the slightest word of encouragement can drive two novels out of my brain on to this little plastic screen and often off to various parts of the world in various electronic forms. None the less, a little validation is nice every now and then.  And, frankly, when  you live in a home where  everything you do is automatically considered 'wrong' by certain people, just because you did it,  it is particularly nice to hear compliments.

Then.  Let me back up a little.  I recently, so recently that the scab has not yet fallen from the wound, ended a very long relationship with my closest friend.  I ended it not because she criticized or disagreed with some of my thoughts.  (How boring is it to have a conversation with someone who totally agrees with everything you think or say?)  I ended it because she used some very hurtful words and chose to broadcast it over the net to everyone in my mailbox and God only knows who else, and, further, enlisted some of her family members to join her army on the battlefield to wage the war against me.  

Then a dear, greatly loved family member jumped all over me because of something I said, and have said repeatedly about my relationship with the Supreme Being.  (Add personality of your choice to define that according to your personal tastes.) This person did it kindly,and privately,but I cautioned him that I had to hold my beliefs in a way I found comfortable and that because I loved and admired him so very much, it would be better if we didn't have discussions on that topic.  We dance around it occasionally, but we honor the parameter that has been set.

So.  Yesterday, another family member got WTF all over my ass about something that they THOUGHT I did.  (Is it not clear to almost everyone who emails what that peculiar code is that ends message links that are spam?  I am so non-techy, and I can recognize it.  I get such things from a friend and a relative very often, and I ignore them.  They are mailbox viruses, and they will always be with us, much like the Salmonella bacterium.)   The fact is, that this is the third instance of what I consider "attack" that I have dealt with recently and I am fucking sick of it.  Just because someone does it through email does not make it any different to me than walking up to my front door and standing on my porch yelling at me.  And when it is done through error and the person who is so QUICK to attack cannot find a way to apologize or explain, I am fucking furious.  Today, I actually asked my husband to go through his SENT box to see if he had perhaps sent the offending email, and when he assured me it was not there nor in any of his mailboxes, I was, once again, reduced to tears over the matter. And, I don't do this shit.  And anyone who knows me, should KNOW that.  I do not think, if I am perhaps, but not likely, in a capricious mood, send or say truly nasty stuff to be cute or to hurt.  (Google:  hurt feelings).  I may forward one of those eCards that frequently fall short of good taste.  And, I remember, I did actually do that on this person's last birthday, so maybe this is payback.  But I do not go all postal on someone dear to me unless they literally ask me to (by my definition).  I DO go all postal on loved ones. Believe me. Or ask them.

But they earned it, let me assure you.  And this particular person and I had discussions previously on how we should not discuss Snopes or politics or certain other subjects because of our philosophical differences.  And that he implied I did it with deliberation?  Can't get my head around it.  Don't even want to.

I have enough real shit in my life to deal with.  I don't need people to manufacture crises for me. Don't  ever take it for granted  that someone "knows" you.  They don't.  They probably don't even know themselves. They know someone that they think is you and it may have NO bearing on who you are.   I am tired of being batted around and compelled to defend my self and my miserable little fiefdom.  Unless there is a reason for  it, like writing or saying naughty words for example.  Carefully label all your stones before you throw them at me.  Then at least I know why I am being hurt.

Yeah, I know.  More mixed metaphor.  Deal with it.

The Spectrum of Bitterness Part Four

It is so much easier for me to write when I am ticked off.  I am trying to be reasonable and tell my self there are only 26 letters for us to use, so when I read something that I think was my idea first, I have to think about the infinite number of monkeys with the infinite number of pianos that eventually play Bach.

Then I have to tell myself that maybe that person who wrote the scene lived through something similar to what I did and had the same sort of reaction to it. I can be really fair about that one because, although I have done and lived stuff other people have not, I am by and large just your ordinary Joe Shmoe.  I am positive Joe Shmoe had some incredible high points in his life, some incredible situations that seemed troublesome and unsolvable at the time but were still the most enormously exciting parts of his life.  He just didn't bother to write about it.  And I hope that every Joe Shmoe has their "peak" to remember so they can have a little smile on their face when they are sitting in that rocker on that front porch.

I feel the need for a balance sheet, perhaps an incomplete balance sheet, but totally inspired by the passing of Steve Jobs which has definitely affected my ideas about life and death.  He left an amazing legacy.  That is all anyone can ask.  And when you are 94, you are not doing much to amplify, beautify, or in anyway, enhance your legacy except maybe making people tired of hearing about it.

MARRIAGE
Average blog writer:
"I am married to the most wonderful man.  We are still as deeply in love as the day we met, in fourth grade."
Me:
I've been married a really, really long time.

PARENTHOOD
Average blog writer.
"My amazing children are gifts from God and I adore them.  I can't imagine life without them. My husband is such a caring and amazing father."
Me:
I should have had a hysterectomy when I was thirteen.

LIFE
Average blog writer:
"I dedicate each day to the Lord knowing that no matter how things work out, I am living in His name and I can survive with His guidance."
Me;
"Jesus, cut me a break will ya?"

LIVING
Average blog writer
"That which does not kill us will only make us stronger.  God never gives us more than we can handle."
Me.
"You have to be in the right place at the right time.  You have to play the hand you are dealt."

PETS
 Average blog writer
"My dog/cats are like family to me.  I am so grateful for them and they deserve to live the best life they can. Why just today Poopsie did the most adorable thing to the back of my couch."
Me
"I am going to end up in the hospital because of this fucking animal."

Ah, me.  This is a beautiful warm, crisp Autumn day and the leaves are just starting to turn.  My autumnal decorations on my entryway are gorgeous.  The little speckle of golden glitter I placed on the leaves of the wreathes gracing my front doors is just perfect and catches the afternoon sun in the most attractive way.  I am so glad I did that.  Now I am going to lunch with two of my favorite people in the whole world, Fran and Ben. If I am lucky the adorable Delaney will be along.  So fuck the whole world.  I rock.

STOLEN WORDS

I lifted the following quote from the blog of Tetman Callis who very graciously attributed it, I am assuming correctly.  Now all I want to do is read about why they posited this and what are the statistics and the control group, and what were they searching for when they did the study and has it been proven and when does it apply.  Certainly not to the written word which means it probably only is applicable or even useful if you are a lawyer arguing in court, or maybe President Obama.


"We hear communications experts telling us time and again about things like the ‘7-38-55 rule,’ first posited in 1971 by UCLA psychology professor Albert Mehrabian: 55 percent of what you convey when you speak comes from your body language, 38 percent from the tone of your voice, and a paltry 7 percent from the words you choose.  Yet it’s that 7 percent that can and will be held against you in a court of law.” — Brian Christian, The Most Human Human

Life With Luigi. Vol.II

We were out for a while this evening. This afternoon, before we left, Louie put one of those frozen pies in the oven and we couldn't leave until it was finished.  That worked out fine.  A few minutes ago, when we got home, we walked into the kitchen and I said, "It's really hot in here."  So Louie walked over to the thermostat.  I walked over to the oven.  I said, "You left the oven on."  I did not touch it because if I had touched it, he automatically becomes not the person who left it on.  It is a rule.  He walked over and witnessed for himself the readout that says it was 300 degrees and said, "Well, I tried, but how do you turn the *&%$#* off?"  I showed him the button that says "OFF".

Don't you love the blonde joke where the girl asks what the 710 thing is under the hood?

In other news, Danielle  has moved back home.  She has been here about two weeks.  She has stayed here maybe ten of those nights.  The sewer backed up in the laundry room today.

And on an historical level, Mises(dot) org deleted my comments about Konrad Lorenz in the blog arguing about Intellectual Property.

So loving my multi-faceted life.