I read, therefore, I review

39 Comments

Posted on February 21, 2013

I love to read. I don’t make as much time for it as I would like because I am consumed with writing, but when I do ignore the incongruously fueled ideas that seep into my conscious hours I love to immerse myself in the written expression of others as consumed as I am by words. I have been fortunate to meet many talented writers and genuinely nice people on this blog site. And I also consider myself lucky to have read some of their published works. I have written my amateur reviews on Amazon and wanted to share them with you in hopes that you would read the books written by these truly talented people.

The Gods of Asphalt by H.E. Ellis – I didn’t want to put it down

Engaging from beginning to end, The Gods of Asphalt takes us on a journey of emotion and growth. Sawyer and River, two brothers with a far from normal childhood, struggle with their past and find a way to define themselves through Ellis’ depiction of teenage angst and growing pains.

Their relationship with each other, their family and their peers is written with such honesty and tension that the pages seem to turn themselves as you are wrapped into the weave of their lives. Within their turmoil we are given true insight into their characters and find something compelling in each of them. Ellis writes with such realism that the book takes on a life of its own. She gives depth to not only the main characters, but to each of the ensemble that support Sawyer and River on their adventure.

The Gods of Asphalt is the first in a series and this foray into the family dynamic puts the spotlight on Sawyer. His journey to finally break free of his past and live a life that is defined only by him is an endearing story and one that will have you strapping into your seat as you ride along on his roller coaster.

I would recommend setting aside several hours if you start this book because you won’t be able to put it down. Go here for more information on H.E. Ellis and her books.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives by Edward Hotspur – Who knew driving to work could be so funny

One hundred morning drives and one hundreds reasons to read this book. From funny to thought-provoking, Edward Hotspur takes us on his journey to work and on an adventure through the workings of his mind. It ranges from hilarious to emotionally charged and never disappoints.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives makes you wish you were the co-pilot in the vehicle that drove this book. It is a collection of blog posts that transforms into a day-to-day account of the life of real person that describes real feelings and hilarious observations of the casualties of the human experience.

It is humor, wrapped in honesty, wrapped in reality and then wrapped in bubble wrap for safety. If you like to laugh at life and find some deeper meaning hidden in the text, put on your seat belt and get ready for a hundred morning drives. Click here to find out more about Mr. Hotspur.

The Eleventh Question by Dianne Gray – Emotional attachment to the characters

Author Dianne Gray truly knows how to get to the real essence of her characters. I was immediately drawn into this book and had trouble putting it down.

Although worlds apart, Dianne weaves a connection between a girl struggling to define her reasons for being and Seer trying desperately to help her find the answers to her questions. The book seamlessly transitions from one perspective to the other and intertwines helplessness with hope.

The Eleventh Question not only engages us in the journey of the characters but makes us reflect on the signs that life presents. It delves into the deeper meaning of intuition and gives us hope that nobody is ever truly alone. It is an uplifting story of survival and success against all odds. For more information about Dianne Gray and the other books she has written, click here.

my words

30 Comments

Posted on February 20, 2013

(image courtesy of Google)

my words embrace me.

my words do not judge me from the outside.

my words speak volumes about who I am underneath.

my words define me in a way my speech never will.

my words convey an emotion that churns in the pit of my being.

my words will help you see who I truly am without the facade that I present.

my words are me.

my words allow me to speak with no sound.

my words allow me to feel with no pain.

my words are who I am and not who I pretend to be.

my words come from my soul and not from my mind.

my words drip with my emotion.

my words are rich with imagery.

my words are me.

my words bring me to a place of comfort.

my words help me find understanding.

my words draw characters in my imagination.

my words make those characters breathe life.

my words implore me to continue my journey.

my words free my creativity.

my words are me.

What does it taste like?

25 Comments

Posted on February 20, 2013

The envelope stood alone in her mailbox, her lawyer’s name etched on the top corner. The papers had come and it was finally over.

She headed to her favorite restaurant and bought a bottle of Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon and brought the glass to her nose. She could trace the hints of dark berries, Cassis and mocha. The aroma penetrated her nose and she savored the scent. When she finally let the glass brush her lips the wine spilled over her taste buds. It was heaven.

The bartender was curious and asked her, “What does it taste like?”

“It tastes like freedom.”

This was written for the 100-Word Challenge at Julia’s Place. I just stumbled on it, and I do love a challenge.

I’m sure the water is fine – Trifecta Challenge

46 Comments

Posted on February 18, 2013

I’ve never been afraid of the water. But perhaps after spending five years trying to calm the waves in my marriage I have been left with the slightest hesitation about diving back in. Divorce can feel like a Tsunami, like the calm before the storm. There is a sense of peace and strange tranquility and then the rush of emotion comes like a tidal wave engulfing everything in its path. And like the Tsunami, you know that wave is coming but it’s nearly impossible to get to a safe haven.

(image courtesy of Google)

The dating pool, although seemingly non-threatening compared to the violent storm waves, beckons and standing on the edge of that pool is just as daunting as watching that tide surge forward. The water may seem calm on the surface but the hidden dangers lie beneath that placid sheen and the potential for another storm gives me pause. The slightest touch of the surface causes ripples and pushes me back from the edge of the pool.

I watch as the ripples dissipate. The soft blue glow seems so inviting, but the dormant threat still lurks under the veil waiting to lure me closer to the edge, waiting to gently touch my skin and pull me under when I am blissfully unaware of the current below. I can’t swim, not now. Maybe sometime soon I will remember how wonderful it felt to float in that water, how comforting it was to be surrounded by its warmth and to feel buoyant. Maybe soon, but not now.

I’m sure the water is fine, but I don’t think I’m ready yet to hold my breath and jump. For now I’m content to sit on the edge of the pool and exhaust every argument in my head as to why I shouldn’t just take the plunge.

This was written for the Trifecta Challenge:
EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely

b : to try out the whole number of <exhausted all the possibilities>

Please remember:

Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

The word itself needs to be included in your response.

You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.

Only one entry per writer.
Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.

Telemarketing at its best

23 Comments

Posted on February 18, 2013

They’re out there – lurking in the shadows, fingers haphazardly typing random phone numbers into their keyboard and blind-siding unsuspecting people with their scripted sales pitch. And as much as we despise what they represent, they are merely doing a job. They are collecting a paycheck. But at some point during their work day, they become desensitized to reality. They become so immersed in that script and they no longer have the free will to listen and respond appropriately.

(image courtesy of Google)

My mom has lived alone since my dad passed away in 2006. She received a phone call the other day from an unrecognized number, but she picked it up anyway. The person on the other end of the phone asked for my father. My mom told the caller that my father was deceased and the caller simply replied, “I’ll call him again some other time”, and the call ended. I may not be the most intelligent person on the planet, but I’m pretty sure he’ll still be deceased the next time they call. Or perhaps this particular company has a listed number for Heaven and, in that case, I would love to see the long distance charges for that call.

I have been one of the fortunate ones and have not be inundated with telemarketing calls since I gave up my land line. My cell phone has been safe thus far, but I do miss the moments of trying to confuse those callers and rouse them from their hypnotic state. I would ask them personal questions about themselves and then would inquire as to whether there was an inconvenient time for them that I could call them back.

What is your favorite way to handle telemarketing calls?

Draped in his fabric

20 Comments

Posted on February 17, 2013

Another post for Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday

he covers me like a blanket

he wraps around my heart

as much as I pull and stretch his fabric

it never falls apart

he drapes over my shoulders

shielding me with his presence

warming every part of my being

comforting me with his essence

I fall into his softness

I feel safety in his shroud

I feel the heat beginning to burn

my murmurs breathed aloud

his touch rubs gently on my skin

every time is like the first

his voice falls like music on my ears

his groan a staccato burst

we lay together, wrapped again

his arms provide the veil

keeping me warm, keeping me safe

his blanket will never fail

The Bones of Life

22 Comments

Posted on February 17, 2013

We all need three bones to survive, a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone. It may seem like a uninspired observation, but those bones really brings us to the essence of making the most of our lives. These three bones, in their simplicity, outline what really should be important to us as individuals.

A wishbone will keep our imagination and hopes alive. It gives us permission to dream and it keeps those visions alive and breathing within us. The moment that we don’t bother to dream any more about what is still possible is the moment that the biggest and most youthful part of us dies. Dreams are the rainbow of our soul and they give us that straw that we can grasp when reality overwhelms us.

Our backbone will lend us strength to persevere. Life can’t always be about dreams and rainbows. Developing a strong backbone will help guide us through those difficult and traumatic times and help develop a real sense of self. Having the fortitude to put enough faith in ourselves makes our backbone that much stronger and makes us able to cope with the concrete that paves the path of our lives.

Our funny bone will give us the perspective to let the will of our wishbone and our backbone blend into a harmonious and happy medium. There is a fine balance between reality and comedy, and it is that comedy that will bring that panorama of our world into a spectrum of colors that will be objective, yet frivolous. Maintaining that sense of humor can only help get us through this journey with a sense of the childhood wonder and laughter that we all want so desperately to hold onto.

Take good care of those three bones. They build the foundation of who we are and where we want to go. And just remember, if they break, any bone can always mend with the proper care and attention.

Dead lines

16 Comments

Posted on February 16, 2013

Today’s Daily Prompt – Write about anything you’d like. Somewhere in your post, include the sentence, “I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock.”

(image courtesy of Google)

The computer screen projected phosphorescent beams of light coating the room in an eerie glow. It had a macabre essence to it but nothing helped to pique my keen sense of the unusual. The walls in the tiny room inched closer to me with every passing second and the absence of any natural light in the small window signaled that the clock read 9:00 pm. I could have sworn it was still morning.

The cursor continued to flash on the screen and only served to remind me that time was ticking. Each flash represented another second gone by with no words to add to the 100,000 needed to finish the project. Being a ghost writer was one thing, being a dead writer was the threat that gnawed on my consciousness. The shackles around my ankles didn’t allow for the normal freedom of movement I needed to change my perspective and allow the creativity to flow. It was a race against time and I was losing the race.

The only way I could keep track of my time spent in this tomb was to count the number of fast food bags that had been delivered to keep me nourished. The remnants of congealed grease and faux-beef were piled in the corner and the stench was nauseating. I had been here for six days. Watching the cursor was hypnotic and the repetition lulled me into sleep.

I awoke in a panic and the clock on the wall slowly swam into focus. It was 3:00 am. I had a mere five hours to creatively articulate his vision and another 40,000 words to write to meet his deadline. The computer woke much faster than I did and I feverishly began to type the words that had followed me from my dream into reality. The word count rose at a rapid pace. There was no time for editing, no time to read anything back to see how the story flowed. I was writing for my life at this point, I don’t think a misplaced comma truly mattered in the grand scheme of my situation. My bladder argued vehemently and I ignored it. That was the least of my worries.

Light slowly filtered through the small window and I checked the word count – 85,400. I was close. I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock. I had failed. Somewhere at the beginning of this torture, I knew it wouldn’t end well. Many times during my captivity I had wished for a self-destruct button on the computer, or that one little pill that would end it on my terms, but dreams and reality rarely ever meet.

The door opened and light stabbed the floor in jagged patterns. The man responsible for my disgusting diet over the last week hovered over the computer screen to assess my progress. I knew what was coming as he stepped back shaking his head. I had been preparing myself for death for the last seven days. I never even heard the shot.

Read these other entries:

Love Actually ~ Valentine edition

24 Comments

Posted on February 14, 2013

There seems to be a common theme throughout the blogosphere surrounding the celebration of Valentine’s Day. And until I re-read my thoughts and deleted the 500 + words I had written on the subject of the commercialism of the day I would have written an entire post about the monetary veil that looms over this auspicious holiday. But something changed. The words I had composed left a bitter taste in my mouth and what I had written felt inappropriate in relation to the manifestation of my tumultuous emotions.

(image courtesy of Google)

Don’t get me wrong…..I don’t hate Valentine’s Day. I, like so many of you, don’t believe in the hype of all the industry propagation that surrounds it. Candy manufacturers and card makers jump at the chance to cover their windows with hearts and arrows to remind people to spend, spend, spend for their loved ones and money is discarded on items littered with hearts and oozing with sentiment written by the prolific writing staff at Hallmark.

In a moment of what can only be described as lucidity, I realized that there are many people walking the face of this planet who are unable to show their emotion as easily as I do. There are many who do not feel as comfortable with the phrase ‘I love you’ and cannot utter it as often as they feel it is deserved and wanted. In that moment, I understood that Valentine’s Day may be the one day that they can express their love through cards and flowers. They are able to show the love they feel on a daily basis but are unable to articulate as often as they would like. After years of being disgusted by the store displays enticing people to spend money, I got it. Maybe the cards and candy hearts are the only way some can divulge their feelings without suffering the spontaneous embarrassment or discomfort of uttering those three words aloud. Because I feel so comfortable sharing the emotion I have, it never dawned on me that others do not share that luxury and perhaps this day is their moment to shine.

Many people I know are far more fortunate and have displays of love bestowed on them quite frequently. Ironically, Valentine’s Day is hijacked by those fortunate souls and held hostage with threats if they are not bathed in ornate displays of store-bought compensation. They reside on a pedestal, but still hold their partner accountable for lavish gifts and dinner, negating the fact that they see more affection in a year than others are only privy to on a day that comes once a year.

I was watching Anderson Cooper last night and his co-host told a story that brought me to tears. She read on the internet about a woman from Houston, TX who had been married for 46 years had always received a bouquet of flowers from her husband with a card that simply read “My love for you grows”. Her husband passed away and the following Valentine’s Day, the first one she would spend alone, she received a bouquet of flowers. She was angry at first and called the florist to ask about the delivery and was told her husband had prepaid for that same bouquet to be delivered on Valentine’s Day for several years to come. When she opened the card it read “My love for you is eternal”. (yes, I’m crying)

Maybe I’m getting older, maybe I’m getting wiser or perhaps I had that moment where the lightbulb finally shone brighter than it ever has in regards to Valentine’s Day. Whatever the case may be, these words from Henry David Thoreau ring true today ~ It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of the people in my life. Whether in person or in words, you all inspire me.

polysyllabic profundities

Random thoughts with sporadically profound meaning

Monthly Archives: February 2013

I read, therefore, I review

my words

What does it taste like?

I’m sure the water is fine – Trifecta Challenge

Telemarketing at its best

Draped in his fabric

The Bones of Life

Dead lines

Read these other entries:

Love Actually ~ Valentine edition