"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta." *Nabokov.
Do you ever wonder how or why people can desire something so much? Like a sickness, something that swells inside of them and takes control. The summer of my 14th year, the summer spent in Montana, I wondered about this a lot. And even though I Knew the character's desire was morally wrong, I couldn't help but desire to have someone desire me. (As an adult I cringe. I have reread the story and see what I didn't see before: Control. Mr. Humbert did NOT love Lolita, he wanted to posses her, and while this may be desirable to a child, to an adult it is a revoltingly frightening thing).
My answer came by way of misunderstanding and naivety. Ah, being a child can skew not only the eyes, but the understanding of those conversations and visions that change us, if not forever, at least for a significant amount of time. In Montana, at least in the summer of 1990, children were allowed to accompany their parents into a Bar. I rather enjoyed my father's and my time at the Bar. We would order nachos and play darts. It was fun. This is when I spotted a group of younger girls. The girls, let me see, I remember them as looking old, twenty-two, twenty-three, but in reality they were only fifteen through seventeen. One was actually staying in the same motel as I was.
Sunday was our only day off, and it was Sunday that I went off by myself to the small laundromat the motel had. As a girl who wanted to be a writer one day, I liked to talk to people, and boy, the girl had a story to tell.
Have you ever talked to a stripper? Outside of a strip club? She was nothing like I thought she would be, in fact, without her make-up and outfits, she looked a lot like my friends, which in a way was both comforting and sad all at once. She ran away from home when she was thirteen. She didn't like her step-father, her mother didn't care about her, and she thought she would do better on her own. She said at first it was easy to find people to help, but as she started "growing-up" the same men that once treated her like a child, started seeing her as a potential mate. (I use all these terms lightly.) At fourteen she met a man that got her a fake ID and talked her into stripping. He sold her on the idea, talked about the money, about becoming independent. She wanted to be independent. And though she talked a big talk to me, I could see, she was far from being independent.
I want to keep this post short, so I will leave you with something she told me, that stuck with me for a long while. "It's okay to hate men because I honestly believe they hate us. How else could they stab themselves into us? How else could they simply get up and walk away after saying they love us? How else could it be that everyone I know, every girl, was molested or raped by a man?"
Now to be fair: She was a stripper, a fifteen-year-old stripper, and though we hear stories of medical students stripping to pay for school, we all know that many of these women have issues about sex and sexuality. But, to the impressionable mind of a fourteen-year old girl, these words imprinted on me and made me see men in a different light. Remember: I was just cheated on by my boyfriend.
Are men evil? No. But we must remember, much like the fictional character being obsessed over his sick relationship, many children can form and lump people together, they need only be pushed in this direction. It was a tragic dance, a recipe with tainted ingredients that shaped my mind over the next few years and turned me from an innocent girl filled with hope and love, to a man hating, man destroying succubus. My mission was to seek out an innocent boy and destroy any light in him.
Okay, I shall talk more about this at another time. And remember: Don't get mad at me, I have, as an adult, sought out many that I have hurt and apologized, and even though this doesn't change my actions, I think it is a good start.
My imagination is clearly on overdrive, almost as if my brain drank some strange rocket-fuel. I have been furiously writing a novella, which we finished in just under a month to meet a deadline, and this has sparked a multitude of strange and downright frightening dreams.
I am going to quickly share last nights terror because it goes along with one of my fundamental moral pillars and it reminded me that I must remain brave, but also smart. As the saying goes: If you are going to be stupid, you better be tough. Sometimes being brave is stupid...which is okay, because life is not Black and White. ;)
Quick summary of the dream: I was walking along the aisles of the local Walmart when I happen upon a child, around the age of ten, who was tied to a rack, her eyelids were duct taped shut, her hands were bound, and she was crying because she had not been fed. I quickly untied her and asked if she was okay (little did I know I should have looked around) Enter three, scarily big, parents. Two women, I assume one was the grandma, and one man. They started yelling at me to mind my business and that this didn't concern me. I bravely, or rather in this situation, stupidly told them it was my business, when someone is hurting someone else I am morally obligated, as a member of this: Our Human Race Family, to protect those who cannot protect themselves. In this moment the Grandma pulled out a sword, I kid you not, that opened into a triple blade thing and slashed it into my body. I fell back, coughed up blood and thought: I'm dying.
I woke up and thought: Note to self, if you happen to find a little girl tied to a pole in the middle of Walmart, don't stand around like an idiot, grab that girl and run.
Why did I share this story? No one ever said doing the right thing was easy, but, dying over it, well, I think that is where things get a little gray. Now obviously if you find someone tied to a rack in the middle of Walmart, there is something seriously f-ed up going on, but life, at least thus far, isn't that straight forward. I have put myself in situations that I am surprised didn't get me killed, but I know I was doing the right thing. Now, this so-called "right-thing" can become very subjective...Think back to SPOILER ALERT: Pay it Forward, when the boy stands up for what he believes and dies in the end....I was left to wonder: Would the world have been a better place if he had not stood up? Maybe. He would after all be able to spread what he was doing...And yet, he would not have been living up to what he was doing if he had stayed silent. This is the catch-22 of life.
What is my point? My point is, we cannot live our lives being afraid, and yet we should also be wise and mindful of what is going on around us. Be Brave. Be Bold. And if you can: do no harm.
All right, my mind is a bit foggy, I am going to sign off. I do hope to have time to get back to the series I started earlier this month. (Ah time, never on my side) Hugs and Kisses to you all. Catch you on the flip side. -- Elicia Clegg
"People are afraid because they make themselves afraid. They are afraid because they subvert every great thing ever discovered, every fine idea ever thought...Every marvelous invention ever conceived. They subvert it, make it crooked and devious...By then it is far too late. Far too late when they finally ask themselves the question: Why? Why? Yes, by then it's too late, everything is too late." *Third from the Sun.
I'll let the quote speak for itself. It moved me, so I thought I would share it with you all.
"Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity."
"Wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows."
Let us strive to fulfill the dream.
"Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth." Abraham Lincoln
What if we could create change in the United States, not by going to war, not by signing petitions, not by voting, and not by old-school protesting?
I have been giving this a lot of thought lately. Why? I get so many petitions in my inbox to sign now that I really think it is a joke. If you are friends with me on Facebook you might have seen a comment where I complained about a petition I received to force, I think Old Navy, to sell size 0 and size XXXL at the same price (Because people are starving, but let's focus on money spent on a shirt). I see protesting, and nothing seems to change, but, as I looked over Martin Luther King Jr.'s life, I saw something that did cause real change, and something that we could all easily do, without fear that we will get hurt. Please see the Bus Boycotthere.
Please leave your feedback on whether or not you think something like this might work.
Please also see Divest Monsanto Stock NOW.
First we take ONE problem at a time. Example: Going off the momentum of ending Federal sharing of, what I believe to be unconstitutional, seized-assets. We, the people, make a clear statement. Restore Amendment IV and End Civil Asset For
"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." Learn More about Civil Asset Forfeiture HERE.
We, the people, make our statement: No more Civil Asset Forfeiture without a Warrant and without conviction. AND, if any asset is lost for valid violent offenders (Murder, rape, etc..where their is a victim) The money must be put into a trust that is used to help victims of violent crime. No money can be kept by state or local entities.
What we do: Simple: No more traffic violations. I know this sounds silly, but traffic violations generate a lot of money for state and local governments. To do this: Every person that agrees makes up 10 postcards, and sends out 10 postcards: 9 to people they know: 1 to a state or local representative. Then, each of the people send out another 10 postcards. Even if only a few comply, with the right Start Date: Enough people will be working together that it might work.
To avoid Traffic violations. Know your route. Know speed traps. Brush up on all the laws, and follow them. Use your blinker. Come to a complete stop. Don't speed, no matter what. Make sure you have a license plate light. Make sure your lights are working. Don't drive your car if it is unregistered or not insured. Don't park illegally. And if you get an unjust ticket, please fight it. Hints to help with that: HERE.
Really, who can argue over this. Follow traffic laws in order to change forfeiture laws. The key to this is getting the word out. And I believe, getting the word out is as simple as mailing out postcards. Making Youtube Videos. Posting on Social Websites. And the best thing is: It is a win-win for the people. (The post card is very important though.) And really: You are simply asking for the government to follow a law, by following the law.
I don't know: Do you think this is a Stupid Idea? Is it worth chasing after? In the end, I am sick of using the old way of doing things: It no longer works. I think it is time that we unite, and focus. We could start by finding out what is the MOST PRESSING ISSUE that needs to be fixed now. (While this will create arguments among the people, I think it could help us focus). Also, please add in any ideas that we could do that would work: No traffic violations or not buying products from big corporate donors. Or a day we don't buy gas. Or a week where no one buys any type of license. Something, anything that will make a big impact without breaking any laws, as this will get more people involved. Something that will Make the Government Remember that it is: We The People, not The people and the government.
What is something you think we Need to Change: But is also something that many can get behind. After we are able to change ONE thing: The others will come easier.
As always, have a beautiful day. And Please, join in the conversation, because I am seriously thinking about this.
Remember: To leave a Comment on this website you simply need to put your name, any name will do, and comment. You do not need to leave your email or website, those are optional. THANKS!!!!
"Courage and perseverance have a magical talisman, before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish into air. These qualities have ever been displayed in their mightiest perfection, as attendants in the retinue of strong passions." John Quincy Adams
I am behind on my deadline for this book, the clock is furiously ticking (I think time is conspiring against me). Well, no worries, it is what it is, so I am going to cheat today and re-Post from a series I did back in 2012: "Good-Day-Bad-Day" as it is relevant to memories and me forming my views of the world. My readership has quadrupled since this time, so it should be new to my newer friends. Cheers!! At the age of 15 in order to get away from the daily crap of being a teenager I would go for long walks. I lived just off Washington Blvd. and for those of you familiar with Ogden you can probably appreciate this: No one really needs to hitchhike in Ogden, there is an ample supply of people driving around looking for people to pick up. Call it the original means of stalking, before the internet social websites were around.
It was a crisp fall afternoon, late 90's. I was following my typical route. I would cut across the end of Riverdale Road around 36th street in Ogden, and walk along Washington until I reached 25th street. I would stop at the city park, walk around, look at the Ten Commandments, stare at the people waiting for the many buses, and finally would make my way up to the Library on Jefferson. I particularly liked the library because it was quiet, and at the time I really needed quiet. (Plus I was writing my first novel. ;) )
So following my same path a man pulled up in this huge car, I can't say I remember what it was, but if you can think of a typical old man car of the time, I am sure you will get an accurate picture. He asked the usual question, "Do you want a ride?" But as usual I heard, "Would you like a ride little girl," followed by a wicked laugh. I must say I was tired this day, and he was old, like 70, so I took the ride.
Mother's everywhere shutter right now....A fifteen year old girl, getting into a car with a trunk large enough to hold a human body...what was she thinking?
I will tell you...I was thinking I am invincible, nothing bad will happen to me. And in this case I was right. The old man was very nice, we drove around and talked...really talked. I am happy to say this time it ended up alright. I made a very good friend who I could share all my secrets. It was very therapeutic...BUT...it set me up to further think I was invisible...and I was not
Arrive to BAD DAY: Two years later, and possible 100's of rides later we come to my 17th year. Now you may ask yourself. Why in the hell doesn't she have a car, I didn't even have a license. I was a full on city bus kid with a monthly pass and all.
I really had met some great people by taking rides, and as of this date only one pervert, who offered me 50.00 to...well use your imagination. The creeper, but this, this was different...and what a fool I was.
For those not familiar with the streets and parks of Ogden. Washington Blvd. is a typical city street, with a few big buildings scattered along a few miles stretch. There is a side road, I believe either it is 20th, but it could be closer to 18th street which turns up toward the mountains. This road has a long pathway which is next to a small river, and has many trees. The path leads to Lorrin Farr Park, but you first have to walk up along the winding path for about 5 city blocks...there is a river on one side, and a large hill on the other, so once you commit to walking up the street you are stuck until you reach the top of the road where a bridge is.
So I am walking from 26th street to my father's store on 17th street and Washington. I am presently on 23rd and Washington when he pulls up.
Even now I can picture his face, see his mannerisms...and I kick myself for being so stupid, I would blame youth, but really I knew better.
He had long blond hair, feathered back, and was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, blue with red flowers. His license plate was from California and he did look truly lost.
"Could you please tell me where Adam's is?" He asked.
I stepped off the curb, leaned down, and from the passenger side answered him, "You only have to turn up, it is about 2 blocks above Washington, which is the street we are on."
"Oh, okay, thank-you," Then he pretends like he is going to pull away.
I turn when he yells out, "Do you want a ride?"
I look down the block, "I am only going straight ahead 6 blocks, I think I can manage."
"It’s no trouble." He insists.
I sigh, I am kind of tired, so I tell myself, and jump in. "Just drive straight 6 blocks."
I settle in, and do what us women too often do, I do not listen to my gut, that is until he takes that ever fateful right hand turn up along the old Lorrin Farr path.
"Um, no you just need to go straight." My heart has already sunk, I know this isn't right, and I fear the worse.
"It’s okay, it’s okay." He says softly.
I begin squirming in my seat, my mind is on overdrive as adrenaline skyrockets my pulse and my stomach aches.
He pulls to the deserted side of the road and pulls behind a large concrete slab, effectively hiding us from the world.
Stupid girl! Stupid, stupid girl! My mind shrieks.
He turns off the car and slides closer to me, "I thought we could get to know each other better."
What to do, what to do...my mother's words come to my head...thank you mother for telling me about your young impetuous youth of hitchhiking.
I do the only thing I can think of.
Though my heart and stomach wanted to stab my brain for the suggestion, my brain was in charge. I lean into him. I smile, and then my hand is placed on his leg and slowly slides upward.
"Not in here, I know a better place, let's get out, it will be nicer by the river."
He gets excited and jumps out of the car and walks around to grab me. We slowly begin walking up next to the river and all the bushes and thick trees. My eyes are desperately searching out for someone, anyone to call out to, and yet there is no one, not a single soul. We walk maybe a few yards, he is anxious and has a death grip on my arm.
"Let's go." He snarls after we have walked too far and starts pulling me toward a large bush.
I spot someone. "Oh no, that is my cousin, oh God, no, no, if he tells my boyfriend."
This causes him to pause for a moment, and a moment is all I need. His hand slightly goes limp and I bolt.
I run, he swirls around and races back toward his car. I still have more than a block to reach the bridge, if I can make it to the bridge I can get to the park and either hide, or hopefully find someone, anyone in the crowd to help me.
I reach the bridge just as he gets to his car and drives toward me. I run faster than I ever have or ever will again across the bridge and hit the park.
Not a soul...not one person,...where in the hell are all the people.
His car rumbles across the bridge. I cut through the park, skinny behind a house, jump over a fence and race down the back half of 17th street until I reach my father's store.
I have never been so happy to see someone as I was to see my father (which is ironic in a way) than in that moment. I literally collapse in his arms and start crying.
Good point: My father, for one moment in his life, sees how someone can fear another...and for a moment, even for the slightest moment in time.
We called the cops, and come to find out I had stepped into the car of a serial rapist. Now one can say this was a good day...I mean I didn't get rapped, I won...but it was a bad day. It created a new fear in me, one that was very hard to reset.
Moral of the story: Don't fear, don't reject life's experiences, but when your gut tells you not to get into the car...Don't get into the damn car, seriously...a ride is not worth it.
Everyone knows my opinion on the present educational system. Okay that is presumptive, maybe you don't. Quick summary: I think it is broken, we no longer create free-thinkers that are willing to go out and create. What they seem to be taught is: How to follow rules and regulations to become a productive worker bee. (I am still trying to wrap my head around the reason that Two Bad Ants
is on the Second and Third grade reading list...And with Common Core they have Close Readings, if you don't know what Close Readings are, watch here
. To sum up: Its a reading, then re-reading, and one more time, that story will be imprinted on their little minds.) With that being said: I believe all education should be Free, but not like this. Not with throwing hundreds of billions of dollars at the broken system. I think Free education should be a collaborative effort, with endless amounts of resources, you know: Kind of like the Library. A place where Scientific Journals can be read on-line, a place where College Level books can be read Free on-line. Now of course this goes against capitalism, as in, why shouldn't Authors make money off books, and why shouldn't book makers, and publishers, and those who build the websites make money? Well, I think that once "education" became a "trade" it started making things too complicated. (Some things should never have been made a profession, like Politicians, that should have a limit) Think about it. Kid's already spend 13 years in school, this should have them at the same level they would be at if they did get a 2-year-degree already, but it's not. Why? Seriously, why? I went to College, and I can tell you, that Associates Degree felt like high school to me.
Why don't we have more things like Khan Academy, surely this is much cheaper for us tax payers than Paying Individual Tuition? And what about the Program that is already in place? The Program that allows kids to graduate from High School with an Associates Degree, why not invest in that? Or maybe allow kid's to finish up High School in Grade 10, and allow them to go to A Trade School?
Look: We have precious few resources. Money isn't money, it's hard working American's that fork over part of their life to pay for the shit the government says we need: Like spying on everyone, and going to one more war. These resources will start to dwindle the more and more "free" shit we do without thinking it through. There are less costly, better ways of educating a person: And throwing money at an already broken system is not going to help. If you want a "Free" Education, you can get it. You can find out every book required at a College or University, and you can buy those books (used online), read them, get online and ask for help with friends and family and support groups....You don't need someone to Teach You, Seriously: You can teach yourself.
The fact is this: Many kid's are sick of school by their Senior Year. They are more than ready to get on with their life, especially after all the testing, and now we are going to shackle them with two more years? We can do better than this. The technology is there. The knowledge is there. Let's stop looking at the past to fix future problems. Money is not the solution. Technology is the solution. Sharing knowledge is the solution.
Okay, that is all. Have a nice day, and tell me how you would fix our system? Please also see:A child, Not a Cog.
A broken heart at the wrong moment in time can change and morph the soul. It was a recipe really, a moment of weakness, a betrayal, and a summer that followed, all were needed to help me choose the dark path and made me someone who strove to play the same game that is played in Dangerous Liaisons. One I got very good at over the years to follow.
Age: 14 Grade: Eighth, end of the year
During my 7th, 8th, and 9th grade years I went to the Roller Ring just about every Tuesday. It was dollar day. One dollar to get in and one dollar to rent skates. Some of my favorite memories are from this time. Kelly never joined me, and that is fine. I liked it there because one could meet new people. Well after my humiliating evening of running out of Mr. X's house, Kelly had convinced me that I should probably practice with someone younger. The goal: Find a boyfriend, and kiss him.
In enters Ben. Many kids that went to the Roller Rink were from another junior high, South. Which was nice, because you could talk to kids without having to worry about your social status in school (ah, we all love the cliques at school, don't we). There was a group of 8th and 9th graders I had started talking to, and thought Ben, who was in 9th grade, was pretty cute. I asked him if he wanted to skate, and things naturally started to progress. Every Tuesday I would look forward to seeing him until he finally asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. Now did I love Ben? Hmm, this is a good question. The memory of my true feelings is tainted, but I at least liked him a lot. I loved listening to him talk, and soon enough I was riding the city bus to see him after school, which would be ending in less than a month. We would talk and talk, and I met his mother, who loved me I might add. But there was a problem. I would always chicken out when he tried to kiss me. (Silly I know). In the end, Ben got use to it, and we became really good friends. Life seemed to be perfect.
School let out, and summer began. This is when I got that call from Kelly. The boy I had introduced her didn't like her, really he didn't want to have anything to do with her. She couldn't take it, she needed me. I was torn. I would be leaving in the next few weeks to Montana so I wanted to spend as much time with Ben, and kiss him, before I left. So I thought, I will just bring Kelly along with me when I go spend the day with Ben....Have you guessed what is about to happen?
Kelly was twitterpated with Ben. He was so sweet, he was so smart, and as she smiled and giggled at every little thing he said, I should have seen it coming. I was clueless, seriously, and even when all the red flags popped up, still nothing. That night she talked about him to me and as the week passed, she talked about him more and more.
The day I was leaving for Montana, Kelly came to see me. She had something to confess. She had sex with Ben. Sex? Sex? They were in 9th grade? What? What? She said she couldn't have me believing that Ben and I were boyfriend-girlfriend while I was away. I called Ben, and he confirmed that it was all true. I was just too much of a child, and he needed a woman. She was 15, I was 14, seriously? Later that week, while I was sitting in the Store in Montana, I told my father about it. His response: "Everyone cheats."
What a crap thing to say.
I was heart broken, not because of Ben, but because of my friend. I felt more betrayed by her. How could she do this to me? She was suppose to be more. I must confess, had the events that followed in Montana not taken place...I may have just shrugged it off, started Ninth Grade fresh and new...but Montana did happen, and I wanted Revenge. Between watching Dangerous Liaisons, reading Lolita, and living in a place that allowed, at least at the time, for underage kids to go to Bars....I was becoming a new woman. (girl really).
My father and I were staying at a hotel, a weekly rental were strippers and military men regularly stayed. And, to my surprise, many of the strippers were only 15 and 16. Oh, my eyes were opened that summer: Opened to a cruel hard world. (One plus side to the summer. There was a military boy, 18, who was staying there for two weeks. I really enjoyed talking to him, he was sweet, and probably help keep a little piece of my soul. That and a Sheriff).
Oh, this is a mess of a post. And as I write it, I realize, I need to take greater care with these memories, slow it down a bit. Tomorrow I will tell you about the stripper who to this day haunts my memories, the military boy, and the Fight with Four Canadians. YES, I said Canadians. AND don't worry: My revenge on Kelly is coming, a revenge I deeply regret.
All right, that is all today. Have a great day! And know this: Not everyone cheats! That is a lie! Yes some do, but to presume that everyone does is well...just silly.
It was strange, thrilling, wonderful, and yet terrifying all at once. I entered into Mr. X's house. I think it was the fear that gives the memory both a fog and crystal clear image in my mind. I can clearly remembering sitting on the floor as he sat on the couch behind me and started massaging my tense shoulders, and yet for the life of me, I can't recall any moment up to that point.
In order to understand my trepidation, we must go back to the year before, and to that dance. Seventh grade, still young, still innocent (in my soul), still full of romance, and hopefully, painfully in love with a Ninth Grade boy in my percussion class. Matt Barton. My junior high had kids from two cities (Gen X was a small population). Riverdale and Washington Terrace. I lived in Riverdale, and had the joy of walking home with a bunch of kids, at least seven of us, one of them was Matt's younger brother. (Lucky me). It started really sweet, I would stare at him in class, he would look up, catch me watching him, and he would smile. After about 6 months of this, he had a friend ask me if I liked him. I giggled, and soon enough we were boyfriend-girlfriend. He even started walking home with us. (I don't think his brother liked that, but it is what it is). So for the last few months, that was our relationship, a few notes here and there (today's kids are missing out, passing notes is funner than texting). Did I kiss this boy, I mean we did "go-out" for 3 months. No, I didn't, I was too afraid. This was the age of sexually transmitted disease and the rise of AIDS. They hounded it in our heads so much that they went so far as to have people come to the school and talk about how their lives were ruined by sex. Sex equaled death in the late 80's, early 90's. So what did I have? It was the last day of school, the last dance, and just like I had always dreamed, Matt came up to me, he didn't ask, he simply swept me up and started dancing with me. My heart melted as I rested my young head against his chest. The song ended, the dance was over, he kissed me on the forehead, and we parted ways.
This memory was seared into my brain, and so when an older man was sitting behind me, rubbing my shoulder's, I thought: Gee this isn't romantic. As the moments progressed, his hands shifted until his fingers danced along my neck, and slowly, gently pulled my face towards his. Our lips drew close, I could feel his warm breath on mine. His arm pulled me closer and closer, and then, like the child I was, I pulled back, jumped up, and ran out of his house.
It took me a good hour to walk home, my dreams shattered, my ego wounded. I walked down to a payphone (any teenagers reading this: A payphone is a phone you would put a quarter in to make a call, they were everywhere back in my day, no cellphones, this was the time when "pagers" were just starting to make it big). I called my friend Kelly, she laughed and laughed and laughed, but agreed to come over that night so we could figure out why I was a frigid frightened little girl.
Now I know I haven't been a bad-girl, yet, but one must put into context the situation by leading up to it, and understanding all the events that shaped and molded us. As eighth grade ended, and the dawning of ninth grade came, I channeled my inner bad-girl, and as any of my past boyfriends will tell you: I was a man eater. We will flash forward to the summer before my ninth grade year, which contained the betrayal, the change, and me channeling my inner Lolita (Which really isn't an accurate picture, as Lolita was 12 and I was 14...but really, do you know of any other story where a child learns to control an adults?)
Monday-Friday: Dangerous Liaisons- - Kelly will show her true colors and I will go from shy little girl to master manipulator.
As always, have a lovely day!
Sorry. I fully intended on posting Memories today, the teacher scandal...but alas I had a Five Hour Meeting with my illustrator for my book that will be presented at the Tuscon Book Festival. As I am attempting to write, edit, and have an illustration for my first Novella, within 1 month, this limits all time. Family first, Exercise second, Writing in book next, that leaves a very, very small window for my website. And though I love all of you who visit me, alas, I am only one. I do however respect you, thus this post. Please come back tomorrow. Sunday is my day off, thus I will for sure (Murphy's Laws probably tell me not to promise this) post the lurid details tomorrow.
Thank you for sticking with me, and thank-you for your interest in the Memories Series. Please, don't give up on me, and I promise, I will have a Book Giveaway for this Novella...Which I assure you, is so totally Awesome!!!! (Then again I am bias) Catch you on the flip side my loyal friends, family, and dare I say "fans" :)