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Writing Challenge: Papa Says -About Me

BethAt uni we were asked to compose a few paragraphs and then edit it down to make a few sentences which then became our personal statement, well this weeks writing challenge is all about reducing needless text when writing so all of that came flooding back. It suggested taking an old post and heavily editing one paragraph to see what you are left with; so…I went as old as I could…back to the start…my about me page https://comfortablynumb7.wordpress.com/about/

Original:

‘So this is my blog, firstly explaining the back story (which by the way I have done in separate posts, as trying to condense over a years worth of stuff into one was never going to happen…so for part 1 click here) and how these revelations came to light, but mainly as a place for me to express myself, a place to grieve the loss of our past, to document the trials we are sure to go through and to hopefully discover that we aren’t alone in this.’

TaaDaa:

 ‘I blog to grieve our past, express our present and discover our future’

I think that pretty much says it all don’t you? 😉

xBx

 
 

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Just thought I’d let you know…

Pile of old books.

Pile of old books. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve missed you!… I have spent this evening attempting to catch up on my reader…PROPERLY. This means actually taking the time to read more than on post on each blog I have clicked, liking  them, commenting and ENJOYING them!

I have missed this so much lately and I feel good to have gotten through a few blogs tonight….still a long way to go. I have given up trying to read everyone’s and settled for clicking through my ‘blogs I follow’ list looking at one at a time rather than rushing through them.

One thing I have noticed is how some blogs I follow only post maybe once every other month…never reply to comments…or just bore the living shit out of me lol…I mean this in the nicest way possible but some I read and think why on earth did I follow you? (I’m sure people think the same when they come across my blog lol) I have nothing in common with you, we never interact…was it at a time when I felt guilty for NOT following back? Some just clog up my reader with too many posts meaning I often miss out on the ones I enjoy reading….

What are your opinions on ‘unfollowing’? is there an etiquette? Do you unfollow blogs? I remember reading a post about someone who had just lost a follower and they couldn’t understand why the ‘unfollowee’ didn’t just ignore their posts in the reader… but I get it. I don’t want to have to ignore them THAT feels ruder (is that a word?) than unfollowing…

Back to the ones I enjoy…

Like I said I have taken my time this evening catching up (apologies to the LOADS that’s I haven’t got to tonight) but I thought I could mention the ones I have visited…

http://behindthemaskofabuse.com/2013/06/08/surviving-the-tests/ Zoë has been through some shit lately, She’s had some incredible guest posts which actually bought me to tears and some really informative stuff about boundaries… I learnt a lot tonight…so thank you. you are amazingly strong, you’re inspirational and you deserve so much good stuff its unreal! There is ALWAYS hope and I am so proud of you!

http://beetleypete.wordpress.com/2013/06/05/a-year-on-the-blog/ Pete…He has recently celebrated his one year blogging anniversary – or bloggerversary if you will ….so congrats Pete! He also took a trip in a time machine…:) You are a legend! <— FACT. The blogging world would not be the same without you and I thank you so much for all the support you have given me over the past year. I love your posts – though as you know some topics are not to my taste (or just go over my head) but I rate your passion for it and I always look forward to reading them…keep at it 🙂 (As ever…)

http://wobbleajelly.wordpress.com/2013/06/08/find-out-about-the-habits-of-armadillos/ I learnt about armadillos…need i say more? Really made me smile visiting this blog this evening 🙂

http://theclaymoreandsurcoat.com/my-books/ What a woman! You should be so proud of yourself (though I’m pretty sure you know this and already are 😉 ) For those who don’t know…Olivia is an author…her first novel  ‘Dawning’ will be released this summer (July I believe so not long now!!!) It’s a Historical Romance set in the Scottish Highlands. How cool is that!? I may have to smash my piggy bank and buy it once its out but for now all I can do is help by letting the people that read my posts know about hers! She is fantastic…lots of interesting author-ish posts with reviews and interviews and of course exciting news about her upcoming release 🙂 If you aren’t already familiar with Olivia and her writing…well… go check out her blog!! 😉

http://doggysstyle.wordpress.com/2013/05/28/picture-perfect/ Have you thought about what photo would be used if you were to go missing? I hadn’t…doggys style has… I WISH I had time to read these regularly…like daily because I miss them and they’re always such a pleasure to read so thank you for staying hilarious -even in my absence 😉 – I’m glad I could come and visit tonight

I am off to bed now and looking forward to catching up with some more of you tomorrow

Night blogging world

xBx

 
16 Comments

Posted by on June 8, 2013 in Under construction

 

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Crystal: Bartender and Thomas

My character post on the MisAdventures of Vanilla 🙂

The MisAdventures of Vanilla

‘AGAIN!’ the drunk, overweight businessman demanded as he leaned across the bar and stuffed a few notes down my top.

‘Larry honey I think you’ve had enough…want me to call you a cab?’

He swayed sleepily, raised his eyebrows and tried his best to keep his eyes from rolling.  ‘Look Crystal,’ he slurred and waved some more bills in my face; ‘If THIS wont get me just one more drink….what exactly WILL it get me? You do that stuff don’t you? Going that extra mile…customer satisfaction and all that…?’

I flushed and tried not to stiffen but even Larry – as drunk as he was- noticed my change in demeanor.  A smirk crossed his lips and he slowly nodded,  ‘Oh, so you do, eh?’ he leaned towards me once more, the sickly sweet smell of Jack Daniels and cigarettes clouding the air and sticking in my lungs.

‘I’ll call you…

View original post 550 more words

 
2 Comments

Posted by on June 2, 2013 in Guest Post, Reblogs

 

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Kisses goodbye

My latest Post in the Community Storyboard xBx

 
1 Comment

Posted by on May 30, 2013 in Guest Post, Reblogs

 

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Writing Challenge: Metamorphosis: Old faithful

In response to this weeks weekly writing challenge – posted here

Thunder of Bangkhuntian

Thunder of Bangkhuntian (Photo credit: Nickplus)

A crash of thunder shocked me back to life and I slowly lifted my head off the ground, fighting the weight of my cold wet hair. Oh no not again! Where am I this time?? I thought. Why is it that a blazing row always happens to fall the same night as a full moon? Does my change in mood go hand in hand with my physical transformation? I should have checked the bloody calendar before speaking my mind and storming out into an equally stormy night.

Legs trembling beneath me i struggled to my feet, shaking the excess water from my coat in some last ditch attempt to dry myself before embarking on the journey home. The cool, damp ground squelched as i padded home, soothing my bare, aching feet; my mind wandering with every step…how long had I been gone for? How far had I travelled…? How will I get back into the house…if i ever find it that is.

Instinct told me to go left…I trusted it to lead me home and I was right to do so; I recognised the area, my heart began racing with excitement and before I knew it my legs were doing the same. Pounding the ground hard and fast, determined not to waste any more time away from him tonight; desperate to get home to him and reconcile.

Panting heavily i reached the door to our home ‘Baby!?’ I yelled, my voice low and gruff….’baby its me open up…you there?’ I cried out but no one came, crumpling I curled into a ball on the doorstep and whimpered. ‘Bethy?‘ he called, swinging the door open and peering out into the darkness around me. I saw his face, streaked with the pain from our heated words earlier that night and I witnessed the glimmer of hope in finding me back home vanish. I could see the twinge of pain and disappointment hit him in his gut as he hung his head; eyes closed. My heart ached and I reached towards him, desperate to comfort him and tell him we would be OK. His eyes opened, wider still when he saw me at his feet.

Bending down he cautiously offered his hand, ‘Hey girl’ he soothed; ‘What are you doing out here?’ I placed my chin in his hand, letting him know it was ok, I wouldn’t harm him. Nuzzling my cheek against the warmth of his palm I closed my eyes, drinking in the moment, happy to be back home. He sat with me on the doorstep, me leaning into his thighs and him stroking my hair. For a long while we stayed silent, just thinking, just existing together. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for the words I said, for leaving on such bad terms… I wanted to explain that I couldn’t stay with someone who wasn’t prepared to let me in…to love me. To tell him that I needed to be loved, I deserved to be loved…but that regardless of his feelings for me I would always love him, wherever I ended up.

‘I messed up girl’ he said softly, twiddling the lengths of hair and stroking the side of my neck ‘she’s gone because I messed up…I AM messed up; I have hurt her, she thinks I don’t love her…I told her I didn’t know if I COULD love her…if I could ever love anyone…ever feel anything…’ he dropped his head into his hands. ‘I don’t deserve her…I’m a monster…I don’t deserve to live….’

‘Don’t you dare say that!’ I growled, moving to my feet and baring my teeth. I backed away, my blood pumping, pulse racing ‘Don’t you DARE!’ I barked. ‘Its true’ he said, ignoring my sudden rage ‘She deserves so much more than what I can give her, I’ve fucked everything up my whole life…I’m nothing…I’m worthless…what’s the point…?’

‘NO!’ I lunged at him, digging into the sleeve of his sweater. ‘Whoaaa’ he jumped up, tearing the sleeve in the process. ‘Ok Ok I’ll stop…I’m sorry…jeez! Beth would have done exactly the same if she heard me talking like that’ he smiled to himself at the thought. ‘But come on’ he continued, returning to his seat ‘how could I NOT love her? She completes me, she brings out the best in me…she’s the only one that makes me happy…as happy as I CAN be anyway. I cant imagine being without her, I don’t WANT to be without her.’ I sat down beside him once more, willing him to keep going; he did ‘I mean I miss her the minute she’s out of my arms; my gut hurts when we are apart…that has to be love…doesn’t it?’

He sighed and shook his head, gripping me harder in an effort to pacify himself as I leaned closer into him to do the same. ‘I’m just shit with this stuff, I wish I could just say how I feel…tell her my thoughts…tell her everything…But I’ve never let anyone in before…I don’t know HOW to. I’m scared she would reject me if I told her everything, I’m scared I would lose the love she has for me…so I do the only thing I know how and push HER away to protect myself; to avoid having to hear her confirm my fears. But…she’s worth it, I want to let HER in…I’m trying…’ his voice cracked ‘but its too late; she’s gone.’

Mans Best Friend

Mans Best Friend (Photo credit: superstrikertwo)

Stunned I watched the tears fall down his cheeks, tearing down the mask he was so used to hiding behind, he’s genuine…he’s…crying! I stood up still looking at him, my feet padding on the ground in enthusiasm, the sound of my nails scratching as i moved. My backside wiggled uncontrollably swinging my heavy blonde tail from side to side as my heart leapt in my chest. I gently placed my paws on his folded arms and brushed the tip of my cold, wet nose against his temple. He lifted his head and looked at me, his green eyes red rimmed. ‘Sorry girl, i didn’t mean to bring you down, I’ve learnt a hard lesson tonight…’

I couldn’t help it, I dragged my tongue across his cheek; ‘Eewwww!’ he laughed ‘What was THAT for??’ My way of telling you its ok, I thought. ‘I’ll be back’ I barked at him and with that I sprinted back to where I had transformed into the faithful golden Labrador that my husband had just bared his soul to; Preparing to change back to my true form and return to listen to him tell me all over again.

xBx

 
 

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Backlogged

I’ve found myself with a backlog again with regards to posts, reading and comments so apologies if I haven’t replied as fast as normal recently… I’m getting on it this eve so… Be patient lol

See you soon
xBx

Meanwhile ….

20130507-043700 PM.jpg

 
11 Comments

Posted by on May 7, 2013 in Under construction

 

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DpChallenge: Manner of speaking: He says tom(A)to, I say tom(AR)to

You say tomato, I say tomatoe

You say tomato, I say tomatoe (Photo credit: dynet)

Being British and married to an American it’s not unusual for us to debate language… In particular the pronunciation of certain words…or just ‘anything with an ‘A’’ as my husband often says.
He says Ass, I say ARse
He says pAss, I say pARss
He says lAst, I say lARst

One that always makes me l(AR)ugh is the way he says hOrrible. He says whore-able so I always make fun of him for that one; I say patronise while he says pate-ronise -like patriot which he always uses as his argument for being right on that one. (I realise from the examples I’ve used it seems like we don’t say many NICE things to each other lol but that’s not the case)

We have fun with it, its not unusual for him to pick up on a word or phrase I’ve said in my accent…and then mimic it…in the worst cockney accent EVER. In fact, when we first met he would frequently say the words ‘guvnor’ and ‘me lord’ in THAT cockney voice – terrible. I mean WHO – apart from Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins- sounds like that?? To get him back I’ll do my best American accent and reply with ‘totally aweeesuuuummm’ or (my favourite) ‘don’t you thiiiink, this is kiiiiiiinnd or ridiculouuuus?’ However my American accent sounds like a reeeally camp Lloyd Grossman (Google him) …the total opposite of my husbands deep Mississippi twang.

Aside from pronunciation and accents…(Not to mention the spelling…but don’t get me started on spelling!!) there’s also the complete replacement of certain words. Pants instead of trousers, trash or garbage instead of rubbishcart instead of trolley…At first it was amusing, endearing and a novelty but after a while you adapt, it merges and it becomes part of your own language. I will often purposely say the american version i.e. are your ‘pants’ (meaning jeans) clean or dirty? -If only to make life easier and to avoid having to clarify which word I mean every time I say something but the whole ‘as in pants pants? or underwear pants?’ conversation still happens because he assumes I’m going to be stubborn and stick to ‘my’ words. *sigh* I may as well say it MY way every time.

Fanny Pack!

Fanny Pack! (Photo credit: jrambow)

There are a few things I flat out refuse to say and vow I will never convert to. I will NEVER call crisps… ‘chips’ (thankfully I don’t eat them often enough to ever warrant me having to ask for them in public) I will NEVER call my bum my ‘fanny’ (eurgh) and I will NEVER call jam ‘jelly’…he feels the same about saying some of ‘his words’ my way…and neither of us call cigarettes ‘fags’ so I think that’s a fair compromise.

I do often forget that he’s American and I’m not…or that I’m British and he’s not… because hearing it everyday becomes the norm. Its only when we confuse each other with alien vocabulary or one of his American friends asks me to say a certain word in ‘my accent’ *rolls eyes* that I’m reminded of the difference…I’m sure one day my accent will fuse into the British/American slur that I have managed to avoid so far and those friends will stop asking…so for now I’m embracing our differences and MY British words in MY British accent…

More tea me-lord?

xBx

 

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Writing Challenge: Mind the gap: The blame game

Does watching violent movies inspire violence in the real world?

comfortably numb

comfortably numb (Photo credit: Will Lion)

If you’re going to blame violence in films or on TV then we may as well jump in and point the finger at the parents while we are at it… I mean these kids are obviously being allowed to watch it by these irresponsible parents so lets blame them… Right? Wrong! Kids will get hold of things if they want them badly enough, I also believe that sheltering them from violence is just as damaging as exposing them to it (on screen) because – as much as we don’t like to admit it- this shit happens in the real world; just watch the news! – or are we blaming reports of world events for messing us up too? Sometimes it’s best to have an idea of what really goes on in the world – even if only to prepare or protect yourself,

I recently read a book about the cases of Fred and Rose West -My husband read it first and I followed suit. He was more disturbed by it than I was and was surprised that I could read it to the end. Why is that? Is it because I’m a monster whom has some sick need to read all the gruesome details for myself? No. Is it because I’ve been subjected to too many horror films or violent films and am now desensitised to this kind of thing? No. Or is it because I’ve got the mindset to be able to differentiate between right and wrong? Because I’ve seen this kind of stuff in films and read about it in newspapers; because I vaguely remember it being shown on the news when it all happened so I kind of had forewarning of what I was about to read whilst my husband went into it without any idea of what to expect.

Blame

Blame (Photo credit: !anaughty!)

Fred and Rose West were both sexually abused as kids, in fact for them it was so “normal” that even in adult life Fred would often have threesomes with his wife and her own father. In turn they sexually abused their children too – along with numerous women whom were then tortured and killed – usually simultaneously. So in this case – if we are playing the blame game- isn’t it their parents fault for starting the “trend”? For making something as horrific as sexual abuse seem “ok” ? Their parents fault, their grandparents… Their great grandparents… ? Someone must have started It… Someone has to be to blame… Right? Why?

How did that pattern start? Was it thanks to someone higher in their family tree watching too many abusive films and thinking it looked like a great idea…probably not. What about the murders? Their parents (obviously) didn’t do that to them so where does that come from? Maybe these abusive parents let them watch murder films… Just like the parents of Jack the Ripper or Lizzie Borden did…Yeah I bet that’s it(!)

Like most children in the 80s I grew up surrounded by cartoons, I watched the coyote repeatedly plant acme bombs and hoist pianos to catch – and ultimately obliterate- the roadrunner to end some long standing vendetta…(or just so he could eat him…maybe I missed the point) but regardless I never considered doing the same (attempted murder) when someone screwed me over…In fact it taught quite the opposite, revenge is draining, it’s more effort than its worth and it doesn’t always make things better. If the coyote had been successful once I think the world would have been disgusted but even then… It’s a cartoon… it was entertaining… It wasn’t real and it isn’t morally right.

express delivery(07-05-15)

express delivery(07-05-15) (Photo credit: jijis)

I watched numerous characters wolf their dinner down in one gulp … Yet I take my time with my meals and I’m not overweight; I watched Tom and Jerry Hit each other with over sized frying pans… Yet I’ve  only ever used one used to cook with. I witnessed happy ending after happy ending in every Disney film out there… We read about Romeo and Juliet at school- and then watched it repeatedly but I didn’t go out and drink poison when my boyfriend left. Yes I could relate to the feeling of sheer desperation and heartbreak but ultimately that film taught me that Leonardo Dicaprio looks like even more of a girl when he cries, arranged marriages aren’t that great and that their version of the royal mail express delivery service is just as unreliable as the one we have today… Shoot the messenger if you will.

I think my childhood viewing/reading/exposure was pretty standard to be honest and I turned out alright…despite the sex, violence, drug abuse and sickly sweet happy endings i witnessed time after time (in films etc) One of my Favourite films growing up was Leon… (a very adult film for a pre teen) But I’m not a hit man OR hanging out with a man 4 times my age… (to be fair he would be dead by now if he were that old.) I played Mario kart and GTA Yet I don’t drive around like a mad woman -ok maybe I do but I’m certainly not picking up hookers, shagging them and then killing them to get my money back despite doing it every time I played…and why not? Because we grow up, the majority of us differentiate between reality and fiction or fantasy. Our parents, our friends, the characters we see on screen tell us right and wrong, they teach us morals…amongst other things. We grow, we learn and we live well rounded lives.

But there are those who don’t.

Call of Duty

Call of Duty (Photo credit: FireFish45)

Did that wife watch one too many horror films before stabbing her physically abusive husband to death? Did that kid play too much Call of Duty before shooting a classmate who bullied him relentlessly day after day? Did that girl watch Romeo and Juliet repeatedly before taking her life after a bad break up? Possibly, but its more likely that other things forced them to snap.

Humans have varying degrees of imagination, we interpret things differently and we make what we will of things; We also have different degrees of sanity, logic…morals or basic common sense…yes I suppose it is plausible for someone to take inspiration from a horror movie; just like its possible to be inspired by a love story… but I also feel that placing blame on someone or something is societies way of living in denial; of finding a reason behind bad things that happen…because it makes us feel better to ‘understand’ it.

Like it or not, many violent films are the result of real life happenings -or at least ‘inspired’ by them…perhaps thats the way we should be looking at it…does real life violence inspire violent movies? Of course it does! Its possible for it to work both ways but for someone to take that negative ‘inspiration’ from a violent film and put it into practice…to hurt another human… the chances are that there is a lot more going on with that person in the first place, a lot more to their story that we dont and probably wont ever fully understand…crazy people will always find something to ‘inspire’ them.

xBx

*Its been a long first half of the week so apologies if this is all over the place*

 
 

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Balancing Act

Balancing Act

Balancing Act (Photo credit: Digitalnative)

I haven’t written as much lately – though you wouldn’t notice as my pre scheduled posts are coming out regularly but as I write this I’m struggling. I’ve had a really draining week but thankfully it’s from being productive (which I’m proud of) rather than bogged down with emotional baggage.

I’ve got an interview Monday, I’ve been applying for jobs, maintaining a house (and marriage) and trying to catch up on the blogging world.

I’ve got thousands of posts ideas flying around my head yet I can’t did the time or energy to sit down and let it flow…

Well… I throw my hands up, I apologise but I simply can’t go back through all the posts I’ve missed over the past few days. I’ve tried and succeeded to a point but it’s getting a little overwhelming lol and it’s silly but I feel bad for missing posts (this is why one of my RCC goals for next week is to get my blog life sorted 😉 )

SO if I’ve missed any amazing news or there’s something going on which you know I’d like to see please link me and I’ll read through them…Otherwise I’ll be reading through as and when I get a chance and in the mean time I’m gonna pour myself a well deserved drink and get my blogging head back on 🙂

I realise I dont need to apologise or explain myself but its out of character for meso just in case anyone was taking it personally…now you know

*Sigh* I feel so much better now lol

Wish my luck on my quest for blogging balance 😉

xBx

 
 

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Weekly Writing Challenge: Person, Place, Thing

 

Café

Café (Photo credit: leandro_marco)

Parking outside the dilapidated building  in the middle of nowhere I was a little apprehensive; but the thought of anything warm to eat and a well needed toilet break managed to override my worries. A tacky red and white sign shrieked as the wind aggressively battered it against the wall. Once inside the combination of heavy, dated curtains; mismatched seats and 70s kaleidoscopic carpet instantly told me what kind of experience I was about to have. On my table, bunches of sticky menus were stuffed into their wooden holders; threatening to topple over from the excess weight. A metal cutlery pot held an odd number of utensils -and half an old crayon- and the staff, well they looked like the combined spawn of the entire cast of the League of Gentlemen.

From the surprised expressions and the sudden buzz of activity, I could tell they didn’t get many new customers, in fact, considering the location I assumed they didn’t have much regular custom at all. But the sight of an elderly woman seated alone by the window proved me wrong. Her hair was white and wispy, like a delicate puff of smoke; the delicate frame of her glasses rested on the tip of her tiny nose and her clouded green eyes seemed to hold cherished memories of the years that had had passed. With her crêpe hands planted firmly on the table she slowly eased herself up, trembling as she rose. Once steadied she huffed to herself in relief before curving her thin lips into a triumphant smile. She edged out awkwardly from her seat revealing her brown pleated skirt, secured just under her bust and a pair of thick tan tights which were beginning to bunch at the ankles. As she passed me she gave a nod to a member of staff who rushed to open the door for her, they loudly wished her well and with that she was gone.

Mildly refreshed I tucked a crisp note under my saucer, grabbed the strap of my bag and gulped down the last dregs of coffee; I was about to leave when something caught my eye. Bunched on the floor beneath the elderly woman’s seat was her thick knitted cardigan. I picked it up, releasing a cloud of grandma-esque perfume and the oversized plastic buttons clacked against each other as I fumbled to hold it the right way up. It was heavier than I had expected and I wondered how her frail frame didn’t crack under the weight. Noting the lack of staff I draped it over the back of her chair and headed for the door.

 
 

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