Crossing Genres

One of the many things I enjoy about being an indie author is that I’m in complete control of what I write. My brain is not wired to think along one track. I hop trains of thought continuously just to explore an idea that has caught my attention. I started with a crime drama of sorts with the short story, Circle of Justice, and then I published my urban fantasy novella, Reaping the Harvest. After those came a collection of creative nonfiction in A Confused Life, based off of posts right here at the Mess. The next book to come out is going to be an erotic novel. Losing Faith is the first in the Rutherford Series and my attempt of steamy romance with sizzling scenes.

And the projects continue from there. Holiday Hindsight a collection of nostalgic essays about those last three months of the year, should be out in September and I am currently working the first draft of Fields of Harvest, the second book in the Warrior of the Way series. I have more fantasy novels simmering on the back burner as well as some murder mysteries, short stories and even more erotica. As I said above, my mind loves to jump around.

Friend Requests and Their Acceptance

Friendship denied...next!

On Twitter, people just follow you if they want and, likewise, you get to follow whoever you want in your Twitter stream. Unless everyone starts blocking everyone else, nothing can really be done about it. Besides, on Twitter that’s really the goal, to gain as many followers as possible to assist in whatever it is you’re wanting to achieve.

Facebook, however, is a completely different ballgame. This social media is not about networking so much as it is about friendships. Thus you don’t just follow people, you have to send Friend Requests and they have to be accepted. You, therefore, with the help that can be found in settings, have some control over who is able to see what you post. I suppose it’s because of that sharing of personal lives that many corporations have guidelines concerning social media and its employees. I’ve never been very big on anyone–government, businesses, Santa Claus–telling me what I can or cannot do on my own time. I also don’t like people telling me who I can or cannot be friends with. I want to make those poor choices on my own.

Why Are You Telling Me?

Some people love to talk and they’re favorite topic is other people. They just can’t wait to give you the dish on everyone they know and most of the time it’s never good. As a matter of fact, the dirtier the dish, the faster they want to pass it around. They’re faster with the news than the Internet. And there will always be people who want to listen. They thrive on hearing the gossip as much as the others relish spreading it.

I try my best not to be either of those people. I may not always be successful at it, but I try very hard. And for several reasons.

I believe that it says something about a person who can’t wait to tell you all about someone else’s crimes. It says they’re angry, bitter people. They don’t feel good about themselves and so they have to make others look bad in an attempt to make themselves look better. It’s a distraction ploy, hoping that if they can point your attention elsewhere, you won’t be looking at them. Little do they know, it rarely works.

He’d Make a Lousy Dog

Riley

As I watch people, I am always amazed at how many would make lousy dogs. Man’s Best Friend would make a better human than these homosapien mongrels and the only trait they have in common is the ability to lick their own asses. They just don’t get it, especially those humans who fail in the parenting or friend departments. These people are worse than felines when it comes to believing they’re gods and the rest of the world is merely there to cater to their whims. They need to be put outside and the recliner given to the dog.

In order to get a better understanding of what I’m talking about, let’s take a peek at just a few of the canine’s personality traits. I’m sure you’ll understand what I am referring to and will soon be dropping some of the parents and friends you know at the nearest animal shelter and picking up a dog.

The Disney Infinity Game

It begins

“To infinity and beyond!” Okay, c’mon, the title had infinity in it. Plus it’s Disney. You know I had to say it. I don’t know if you are familiar with Disney Infinity or even if you are into video games. It’s an elaborate video game based around Disney characters such as the Incredibles, Jack Sparrow, Monsters Inc., and more. I’ve noticed it in the stores a few months ago and finally asked the girls to get it for my birthday. They weren’t surprised that I requested something about Disney. However, they were surprised that it was a video game. I don’t play video games.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I used to play Angry Birds on my phone constantly. Then the 9-year-old asked to play it and tripled my score. I just stared at her. “Big deal. Can you do calculus?”

“Of course not, Robbie. I’m only nine. Can you do it?”

“Well, no, but that’s beside the point.” I then went and sat in my rocking chair.

A Day at Animal Kingdom

It was the 9-year-old’s first visit to Disney’s Animal Kingdom and my second. The reason we were going was because I needed a break from reality for a bit. We had all been going strong for a while and stress was weighing our shoulders down. We needed a time out from life and, like my mom always did when she felt that way, we hopped in the van and headed to Disney.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a spur of the moment event. We had been planning it for a month as if I knew when our breaking point was going to hit. Char had already put in for our Fast Passes and the little one was almost as excited as I was. Of course, no one is ever as excited as I am when we go to Disney.

A Parent with No Regrets

Yesterday was Father’s Day here in the States, a day where children, no matter their age, made calls, sent cards, and gave small gifts as tokens to express their love to the man who raised them. It’s a day for barbecues in the backyard and picnics in the park. On Mother’s Day, the ladies are taken out to dinner, so that someone else gets to pamper them for a change but on Father’s Day, men have to man the grill. That’s okay, however, because we don’t like other people touching our grill. That is our domain.

Besides enjoying being surrounded by our family, Father’s Day is also the day dads look back and do a little soul searching about the job we have done so far in guiding our children through the confusion called Life. I’m sure it’s the same for mothers on their special day, as well. For children, we’re just celebrating the fact that our parents never killed us, even though we probably deserved it.

“You Judge Too Hard”

Stop the nonsense!

“I really don’t like him. He’s an idiot.” To be honest, I probably dropped an f-bomb or two in there.

“That was harsh, don’t you think?” She looked at me with a shocked expression as if I had never said anything like that before.

“He’s rude and arrogant. He’s obnoxious and needs a foot up his ass to teach him how to behave like a real human being. No, I don’t think I was being harsh. I was being honest. I don’t like him being around.”

“You judge people way too hard,” she said.

Changing Taste Buds

Ewww

When I was growing up, one of the rules of the house was that we had to at least try a spoonful of everything that was on the dinner table. The saying that usually followed this was, “You never know when your taste buds are going to change.” I’d look down at the cooked spinach on my plate, which always resembled regurgitated grass, and know beyond a doubt that my taste buds would never change enough for me to eat spinach.

And it hasn’t.

However, it has for other things. Corned Beef Hash is another one of those dishes I dreaded as a child, but enjoy it now that I am older, unlike the spinach that looked like it had already been eaten once. Corn Chowder, Potato Soup, and Great Northern Beans are more examples. Black Eyed Peas–the vegetable, not the musical group–can be added to that list, as well. My stomach churned when I saw them sitting on the table. I knew I was going to go to bed wishing we had ordered pizza, instead, and would definitely be needing a bedtime snack. My taste buds triggered my gag reflex when I was younger as I forced these dishes past my palette. I couldn’t wash the taste away fast enough.

Summer Zones are now in Progress

I don’t know about in your area, but last week was the last day of school around here. The kids came running out of the classrooms, tossing homework papers into the air that they never wanted to see again as visions of three months of freedom filled their heads. It’s on the same level as sugar plums at Christmas. They earned it and are eager to get the fun underway. No arithmetic. No writing. Of course, there will still be reading. However, science and social studies are now put on hold for the next twelve weeks.

Of course, that also means that the school zones can be safely ignored, those twenty or thirty foot sections of road where you have to slow down to 15 miles per hour for the safety of school children. Usually there’s a crossing guard somewhere about helping children get safely across the street and avoid those people that don’t realize there are such things as school zones. To be honest, they are quite easy to forget, even for those of us with school-aged children. We get busy talking to whoever is in the car with us or jamming out to the Fall Out Boy and have to slam on the brakes at the last minute as the School Zone sign comes into view. The crossing guard scowls at us as he waves his heavy STOP sign. We pretend we don’t see him as we inch along.

I Survived My First 5K

The red thing goes in our shoe to track us in case we don't come back

If you joined us a couple of posts back, then you recall that for my birthday weekend the girls signed me up for a 5k run/walk followed by some CPR training. For the inquiring minds out there, we did go and I obviously survived since I am able to write this post. I thought that I’d take this opportunity to share my experience with you as it happened so that you can see how I was tortured by those who claim they love me. What you will find below is a timeline of my punishment and please remember, this is how they made me celebrate my birthday.

Separation Withdrawals

I miss them on Mondays...even the frog

I dread Mondays. Not because of the work week beginning or the weekend ending. Well, not completely anyway. My schedule and career choice makes every day seem like a combination workday and weekend. That’s part of what I love about being a writer. It’s always one adventure after another, even if I never leave my little corner in the backyard.

No, Mondays are hard because I go through separation withdrawals. The girls have surrounded me for three days, their laughter filling the house. I’ve been able to touch them and talk to them whenever I wanted and vice versa. If I get an idea, I can share it right then. If we want to go messing, we hop in the van and simply go. We’re always together and we’re always doing something.