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Looks like I may have a ton of these, so this is collection 1 of Reflections |
| "Money can't buy what's worth having, it can only accentuate what's missing." ~Me what's missing = 'what's worth having' My thought process as I read about Ash from Maya Banks' Burn buying up all of Josie's paintings and pawned jewelry; It's great for him to support her, every girl wants to be taken care of, but I'd be darned if I'd let a man think he 'owned' me in that my very well being rested solely on his generousity; I'll make my own way if I have to and I will NEVER be completely dependent on another... ------------------ I am now on Chapter 18 or so and I'm cresting after a big plot event. Ash just beat up Josie's ex Michael who went ballistic on her all random like. That's a general fear of mine, to never truly know a guy till something awful like that happens. It's why I try to stay fit and up to date on my self defense, no joke. But God forbid if that did happen to me I hope to have a guy or two in my life that would do the same...with out getting caught. ------------------ My first major criticism of the series began when Ash's long lost baby sister Brittany comes to him begging for help in leaving her controlling mother and grandfather's influence. I LOVE this family arc in that I'm dying to hear all the juicy details of dysfunction, BUT the writing takes a wrong turn stylistically. Britt and Ash both tend to repeat themselves, a lot. And it's not just this scene, in almost every scene between Ash, Britt, Jace, and/or Gabe the characters constantly say things that don't sound 'normal'. Meaning, I can't imagine most people, if anyone, saying some of these lines naturally. They sound rehearsed and scripted. Then the proceed to say the same thing in a slightly different way but with most of the same words all within the same couple paragraphs, it's maddening! Also, the cursing gets old quick. I get it, people cuss, some people even cuss a lot; but you can only use 'fuck', 'gdamn', and 'ass' so much before it just becomes caricaturist and I wish the characters were played in a more mature fashion. --------------------- Hoping to finish the book this week but with TGiving and my waning interest, (what else is there to discuss? I hope something big happens with his sister) only time will tell. |
| My end of the session analysis of what grief means to me Grief group for me is like taking a long road trip with a bunch of 8 yr olds who cry at the sight of road kill. When I was younger I would ALWAYS cry at road-kill. Deer, dogs, cats, whatever; no skunks or possums, they deserved to die, but the deer, dogs and cats got me every time! Fast forward 20 years, I’m not 8 anymore, I’m 27 and now I’m on this figurative journey called life. And there are deer on the side of the road any more, it’s my friends, it’s my family, it’s friends of friends that I met once or twice a few years ago at a get together. Thing is, while that has changed, one important thing hasn’t, who’s in the car with me. In my case it’s just me and my mom; it doesn’t have to be my mom, it could be any one; a spouse, a relative, another friend, or even a stranger; but for me it’s my mom. When I was a kid needless to say, mom never cried at road kill. I don’t think she noticed it most of the time until I started bawling. And I expected that, why would she cry? Why should she care, I grew up, no big deal. But now that it’s my friends on the side of the road and I don’t understand why she isn’t being more emphathetic of my feelings. Granted mom grieves like I would if I did not come to group. She pushes it down and hides it until she is alone. I’m sure she talks to friends and family sometimes but I’m 98% sure she never got group or professional help. And because of this I think she’s become calloused and jaded when it comes to death, especially those she’s no connection with. Example: my friend died of aids and it’s all she would talk about. Back to the analogy, grief group is a bus full of 8 yr olds. I’ll always love my mom and she’ll always be on this life journey with me BUT it’s great to be able to switch cars once a week and be on a bus full of other 8 yr olds just like me who cry whenever we pass another dead deer. This group means so much to me because I know that when I lose a friend or relative you will all cry with me. You don’t have to know his story to know my story. You don’t have to break down in order to build me up, all you have to do is say I’m sorry for your loss, I know how you feel and we’re going to get through this together. That’s it, and it’s a beautiful thing…. It seems so simple, but it is actually so hard to find; and I'm finding that out more and more with each loss. |
Been seeing a lot of WDC Ghosts (that's my newly minted term for Registered Users, due to the faded grey suitcases and the way they seem to pop in, out and about when one least expects it) hanging about lately. Perhaps it just seems that way because I've been interacting with them more often than usual the past couple of days. From responses to "Note: *Clock2* 36-HOUR MISSION *Clock2*
1..." to the lovely SashaKate   liking my "Note: Thanks a mill to [Link To Item #1300305] for the..." I unconsciously make note every time I see a post from one of these spectral entities.Why is this blog worthy? Because I had a stray thought (been having a ton of those lately, exacerbated recently by PatrickB 's plea in his amazing Review of "R.A.G.E."  for me to finish something new and worthwhile; been at my new job almost 6 weeks now, the creative juice is slowly but surely beginning to flow in me again). Are there any groups supporting these ethereal beings? I'm not so much interested in encouraging them all to publish items (though that would be amazing); but I am curious about why some of them stick around for years without any recorded interest in writing themselves. Do they prefer to post work elsewhere? Are they published and so just interested in reading? What are their favorite things to do online? Etc.I searched 'Registered User' and was rewarded with only one result, which led to Invalid Review .Currently online this instant Registered Users: 416 Registered Authors: 208 Exactly twice as many Users as Authors and that's fairly normal from other times I've checked. This mysterious force of perusers is vast and I want to know what they're up to! Wonder if it would be worth pursuing a deeper more educated understanding of these particular Members. |
| EnderFaiths' Game I've heard of people hiding scary books in freezers to escape the vivid imagery of the pages. I don't like horror so I've never wanted to hide a book, throw it across the room maybe because a fav character died, but never hide. I think this may be the first book I've ever considered banishing to a chilly exile. Perhaps I can blame the encroaching menstruation. Maybe I've just been cooped up too long and once again I'm thinking too much. But Enders Game (EG) isn't a horror story or a suspense thriller. It's a psycho analyzer and that, more than any axwielding sociapathic seriel killer is scarier beyond all reason. EG most so for me because I can relate on a few levels. I'm no genius but I enjoy learning and thinking, always have, always will. But I didn't grow up around thinkers. I was seldom nurished at the tender elementary school age to excell outside of standard course work. I attended the SAGE classes and ultimately graduated highschool #14/340ish. I took the long away around obtaining my Bachelors after 5 interesting college years. I am no Ender. But I find in him... in his story, a kinship. A questioning. Would I be one of those to hate him simply because he's better than me? Would I go so far as to wish him harm? Do him harm? No, I know myself well enough to admit I suffer from jealousy from time to time but I also wish to encourage others. No matter their skill level. **Spoiler alert** What prompted me to begin writing this after reading 213 pages of this 324 page book I've acquired is Ender's fight with Benzo. When he's crying afterwards because he didn't want to have to hurt Benzo. He hates himself for doing it and he hates 'the world'/circumstances/the teachers for making him have to do it. I can't say 'we've all' had to deal with this at some point, but I imagine a fair few of us have. My time came when I was in 3rd grade, my assailant was a Kindergartner (maybe first grade?), just another strike against my moral aptitude, why couldn't she have been my age or bigger? Maybe because those my age knew better? *shrug* She was the kid on the bus that did whatever she liked because she had a ton of friends and family to back her up. I had been having a particularly awful day in the world of a 7/8 year old and her jumping into my seat with that malicious grin on her face was just the icing. To my credit I had warned her multiple times, at least three, yelled at her even, that just goaded her on. Finally I had enough, braced my hands on the back of my seat and the one infront and kicked her squarely in the chest with both feet. She flew into the aisle, the wind knocked out of her undoubtedly. Bus driver slammed the bus in park, I knew my day was about to get worse. The driver slammed the crying girl none too gently into the seat next to me then returned to the front of the bus without so much as a glance my way. By the time her stop came up the little bully had got her breath back and was using it to threaten me 6 ways from Sunday (correct phrase usage?). It was my turn to cry then. I remember the perplexed looks of the other kids on the bus. What was I crying about? I had won! All that did was make me feel dumber, stupid for crying, stupid for hurting someone younger than me. To my surprise the driver actually smiled at me when I got off. Talk about a mild shock to the system. I guess she wasn't going to tell my parents. I don't remember much leading up to that night when I walked in on my parents brushing their teeth in preparation for bed. I emptied my sinful little heart out then, expecting some sort of backlash. Clearly as the little bully and my busmates, I remember the perplexity of my parents faces as they silently regarded each other as if to say "what are we supposed to do/say here?" In the end they said I shouldn't have done it (more so to assauge my guilt than out of true conviction i'm sure) but it was good for me to stick up for myself. And that was that. I never saw that little girl again and I haven't been a physical altercation since. But Kickboxing, Krav Maga, and other defense disciplines remain my physical poison of choice. I have no interest in hurting others but have no doubt in my mind that I'll do my best to defend myself and those I care for. Another interesting point: Had I kicked the wind out of that girl in the protection of someone else I doubt I would have felt a moments guilt. It's only when I feel the need to protect myself that I question my methods. Why is this? Don't I deserve the same protection I have no problem affording others? Is this just another example of how I don't fully value myself in 'the grand scheme' of things? I'm not sure, I'll have to think on it....... Note to self: I thought SAGE meant Student Academics for Greater Excellence or something but in WI it meant Student Achievement Guarantee in Education (SAGE). GA had a modifed version, I wasn't poverty level and neither were my friends, it was def higher advancement of a sort for 1st-3rd grades. http://www.promisingpractices.net/program.asp?programid=117 |
| Awww, I marvel at my lil sis sometimes..... FB Post 10/22/13 I think it's kind of sad that I even have to make one of these but yeah, here we go. I am 19 years. I am almost 20. That means I am not a child anymore and that my business is just that; Mine. It means that every little thing I post and every little thing I do does not need to be reported to my Mother. If you find something I post offensive, or a picture I post a little provocative, I feel that I'm old enough and mature enough (and so are you) to come to me and talk to me like I'm a reasonable person. Not go behind my back and report on me to my mother. Recently, my mother came to me and said that someone had come to her and said that I was posting pictures and statuses on my wall that indicated that I'm gay. Lot of things wrong with that. First of all whether I'm gay or not is not my mother's business. Whether I'm straight is not her business. Whether I am sexually active, or still a virgin or getting a sex change or even contemplating being a hermit for the rest of my natural life is not her business. And it certainly isn't your job to go and tell her. I did not make this godawful drama fest called Facebook so you could try and make me seem like some sort of hussy to my mom because you're jealous, spiteful because I'm not a problem child like your kids are, or even doing it because you're bored. I made it to stay in contact with family and friends and post stupid things to make people laugh. The only thing most of the family I've added has done is gone and tattled to my mom about everything little thing I post. "Did you see her picture?", "I can't believe she said that!", "What is she wearing, she looks trashy." When I very kindly showed it my mom, she either states, "There's nothing wrong with that, I thought it was much worse!" or "Well Sabrena that is a little out there. You should remove it." And I did. Because I'm not a stupid immature little girl who can't make rational decisions for herself. And if you had come to me with this argument I would have done it. My siblings do it. I posted a picture and they told me it was too far and it was gone immediately. And sadly, the family who reports on me never says anything to me. They don't message or call to ask how I'm doing. They try and get me in trouble and then go about there business. I've already deleted a few family members because of this and I'm probably going to delete more. This should have never become a problem to begin with. Comments: Ashley Faith Sorry you had to do this too but you did the RIGHT thing. No cursing, no attitude, just straight up maturity. I wanna be like you when I grow up!!! #rolemodel 2 hours ago · Like Ashley Faith btw, I might edit this and make it public, so those who aren't your FB friends know why they're blocked 2 hours ago · Like Sabrena Woodard Lol! You're so awesome Ashley! And thanks. Not everyone agrees with you. Yeah, before I got rid of them I made it so they could all see it for a while then deleted them. |
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