Over the weekend (and a few glasses of sangria) my husband and I came to a conclusion: Facebook is a distraction.
I know that some of you may not agree but just here me out. What does one really do on facebook? constantly checking updates of your 'friends' or seeing who has responded or either liked an update you posted.
Accepting friend requests from ppl you went to grades school, middle school and high school; some of which you really weren't cool with when you were in these places anyway.
Then there are the games such as mob wars, mafia wars, farmville or whatever is out there, perfecting make believe societies, earning make believe money.
Then there are those lovely inbox notices from those 'friends' of yours who are promoters (That really annoys me, b/c my slight OCD makes me check the messages just to get rid of that red balloon on the screen.)
Then you have those brave soul who engage in cyber beef. I mean I'm bold as brass when I need to be. I'm known for having a mouth. If I have something to say to you I'm going to say it TO YOU! Not via status update and be passive aggressive about it.
Then there's that whole unfriending business which seems to be the ultimate diss these days.
And what does this amount to? A bunch of nothing. You've spent time on a site distracting you from whatever it is you could be doing.
But then again this is just my POV. I would like to know what anyone else thinks...
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Great Women Doing Great Things!
This is a story birthed from my LOVE for Kick Ass Woman! Point of No Return, G.I. Jane, A Long Kiss Goodnight, these movies are all on my top ten list of "Great Women Doing Great Things!"
My Grandmother (R.I.P) was one of those kinds of women. While my mother won't admit it, she is too :) Growing up I have always gravitated toward women who are strong in mind, body and spirit. So to you all who have loved me, nutured me, and shaped me into the woman I have become, THIS is for YOU!
The Name of This Story is called Kissing Koi Fish...
Japan, date unknown, time unknown…
There is usually a beauty attached to death. A macabre kind of beauty, but a kind of beauty nonetheless. But there was no beauty in this. No honor in this.
Hiroko Katsura struggled against the bonds of braided rope as the as the iron was burned into his flesh; his screams absorbed by the cement walls. The hanging flood light above him was the only light in the room. Seated beneath it, he was surrounded by darkness.
“Lift him up.” The voice of his tormentor echoed in Japanese. There were at least two others in the room carrying out their leaders orders. Strong hands pulled at the back his hair, forcing him to look up. Smoke from a cigar preceded the man that came into view.
“Where is the girl, old man?”
They were searching for his Kiyoko-san. His young, vibrant, Kiyoko-san.
His silence was met with a backhanded slap.
“This can all be over when you tell me what I want to know. You will have your freedom.”
The only freedom Hiroko sought was to pass on into the spirit world. He knew he wouldn’t get out of this alive. The vision he’d had months ago revealed to him that much. Just like the vision he’d had 8 years ago that had led him to the girl, this man desperately wanted. Just like the vision that had told him when and how to send her away almost 3 years ago.
“Even a sheet of paper has two sides,” He rasped out in broken Japanese. His head was thrown forward forcefully as hard eyes stared down at him. Uncharacteristically he laughed. His left eye swollen shut, he could still make out the expression of confusion on his executioners face.
“Waste him.”
A butcher knife glinted in against the light and his head was yanked back again.
“What you seek, will be your downfall.”
Because the last vision Hiroko had before his timely capture, was the one of Kiyoko-san avenging his death.
Norfolk Virginia, present day
Cutting across the back alley was not a short cut Eneida took most nights. But tonight someone was following her. She spotted him when she exited the bar at the end of shift. And at after one in the morning she didn't need too many guesses on why a masked man would be following anyone.
Pulling her shawl tighter, Eneida quickened her pace. But it wasn’t quick enough when the distinct barrel of a gun was shoved against her back halted her in her tracks.
“Keep quiet and I’ll let you live.” A gloved hand grabbed tight hold of her arm and marched her farther into the darkened alley.
“I have money in my wallet. Just take it and let me go.”
“Quiet!” he threw her against a brick wall while turning her to face him, the gun’s barrel now pressed against her throat. His movements were no longer hasty but his breathing became harder as his free hand touched the exposed skin below the hem of her shirt, inching higher.
“You don’t want to do this.” She warned.
“I said QUIET!” He backhanded her across the face. A groan of pain that followed but it wasn’t from her, but him. She moved so fast he never saw it coming. Enieda’s left hand was securely locked on the pressure point of her attacker’s wrist, while she kneed him squarely in the nuts. He fell to his knees, his arm still in her grasp. Bending down, Eneida picked up the discarded gun.
“I told you didn’t want to do this.” She pressed it against her attacker’s hand and listened to him beg. “I told you to take my money and go, but you didn’t listen.” She pulled the trigger and shot right through his hand.
He roared in pain and she lifted the ski mask over his face. His cries producing tears that streaked across his grime covered face. She picked up his other hand and imprinted the barrel of the gun on it. His wounded hand held close to his body, her would be attacker mumbling his pleas.
“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Enieda egged on.
“P-Please don’t.” he stammered, looking up at her.
“Sorry, but I can’t let you live.” With that she aimed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.
My Grandmother (R.I.P) was one of those kinds of women. While my mother won't admit it, she is too :) Growing up I have always gravitated toward women who are strong in mind, body and spirit. So to you all who have loved me, nutured me, and shaped me into the woman I have become, THIS is for YOU!
The Name of This Story is called Kissing Koi Fish...
Japan, date unknown, time unknown…
There is usually a beauty attached to death. A macabre kind of beauty, but a kind of beauty nonetheless. But there was no beauty in this. No honor in this.
Hiroko Katsura struggled against the bonds of braided rope as the as the iron was burned into his flesh; his screams absorbed by the cement walls. The hanging flood light above him was the only light in the room. Seated beneath it, he was surrounded by darkness.
“Lift him up.” The voice of his tormentor echoed in Japanese. There were at least two others in the room carrying out their leaders orders. Strong hands pulled at the back his hair, forcing him to look up. Smoke from a cigar preceded the man that came into view.
“Where is the girl, old man?”
They were searching for his Kiyoko-san. His young, vibrant, Kiyoko-san.
His silence was met with a backhanded slap.
“This can all be over when you tell me what I want to know. You will have your freedom.”
The only freedom Hiroko sought was to pass on into the spirit world. He knew he wouldn’t get out of this alive. The vision he’d had months ago revealed to him that much. Just like the vision he’d had 8 years ago that had led him to the girl, this man desperately wanted. Just like the vision that had told him when and how to send her away almost 3 years ago.
“Even a sheet of paper has two sides,” He rasped out in broken Japanese. His head was thrown forward forcefully as hard eyes stared down at him. Uncharacteristically he laughed. His left eye swollen shut, he could still make out the expression of confusion on his executioners face.
“Waste him.”
A butcher knife glinted in against the light and his head was yanked back again.
“What you seek, will be your downfall.”
Because the last vision Hiroko had before his timely capture, was the one of Kiyoko-san avenging his death.
Norfolk Virginia, present day
Cutting across the back alley was not a short cut Eneida took most nights. But tonight someone was following her. She spotted him when she exited the bar at the end of shift. And at after one in the morning she didn't need too many guesses on why a masked man would be following anyone.
Pulling her shawl tighter, Eneida quickened her pace. But it wasn’t quick enough when the distinct barrel of a gun was shoved against her back halted her in her tracks.
“Keep quiet and I’ll let you live.” A gloved hand grabbed tight hold of her arm and marched her farther into the darkened alley.
“I have money in my wallet. Just take it and let me go.”
“Quiet!” he threw her against a brick wall while turning her to face him, the gun’s barrel now pressed against her throat. His movements were no longer hasty but his breathing became harder as his free hand touched the exposed skin below the hem of her shirt, inching higher.
“You don’t want to do this.” She warned.
“I said QUIET!” He backhanded her across the face. A groan of pain that followed but it wasn’t from her, but him. She moved so fast he never saw it coming. Enieda’s left hand was securely locked on the pressure point of her attacker’s wrist, while she kneed him squarely in the nuts. He fell to his knees, his arm still in her grasp. Bending down, Eneida picked up the discarded gun.
“I told you didn’t want to do this.” She pressed it against her attacker’s hand and listened to him beg. “I told you to take my money and go, but you didn’t listen.” She pulled the trigger and shot right through his hand.
He roared in pain and she lifted the ski mask over his face. His cries producing tears that streaked across his grime covered face. She picked up his other hand and imprinted the barrel of the gun on it. His wounded hand held close to his body, her would be attacker mumbling his pleas.
“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Enieda egged on.
“P-Please don’t.” he stammered, looking up at her.
“Sorry, but I can’t let you live.” With that she aimed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.
Fallen: Tale of The Dark God Review
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0044R8ZCK/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img
This month I had the pleasure of reading Fallen: Tale of the Dark God by Violette Dubrinsky. As a lover of quality writing that makes sense, has an enjoyable story line, and is scortching hot, I have to say Ms. Dubrinsky's work definitely fit the bill. The Paranormal element was just the icing on the cake :)
Thanatos, was THE MAN! Period. Case closed. End of Story! He was everything you expected a Dark God to be and then some. Even when he is cursed to earth by Aphrodite, he is still a magnanomous specimen of man. Simone was as endearing as a heroine can be. In the end, they made a nice match. The build up was believable, the sex climatic, and the end result satisfying. I am looking forward to more of Ms. Dubrinsky's work. She's definitely won herself a fan!
This month I had the pleasure of reading Fallen: Tale of the Dark God by Violette Dubrinsky. As a lover of quality writing that makes sense, has an enjoyable story line, and is scortching hot, I have to say Ms. Dubrinsky's work definitely fit the bill. The Paranormal element was just the icing on the cake :)
Thanatos, was THE MAN! Period. Case closed. End of Story! He was everything you expected a Dark God to be and then some. Even when he is cursed to earth by Aphrodite, he is still a magnanomous specimen of man. Simone was as endearing as a heroine can be. In the end, they made a nice match. The build up was believable, the sex climatic, and the end result satisfying. I am looking forward to more of Ms. Dubrinsky's work. She's definitely won herself a fan!
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