Happy Birthday, Rhianna

I have been thinking about the "Rhianna/Chris Brown" incident a lot. I didn't have my computer when it happened but I sure wanted to discuss it. Today, a photo has popped up on the Internet of her after she was beaten. It is disturbing so look at your own risk. I'm not putting it here so you'll have to search for it.

I'm disgusted by this whole incident. I love Rhianna but even if I didn't, I would still be disgusted. I really liked Chris Brown, too. He is attractive and talented and so young. I don't understand this kinda behavior. Maybe I am very naive, I admit that, but how can you inflict that much pain on someone you claim to love? How can this happen?

I think that he should be punished. It was easy for him to pay the $50,000 in bail (or whatever the amount was) and we all know how (some) people treat celebs. I'm thinking OJ Simpson, helllllooooo! We all know how that abusive relationship ended for Nicole Brown. I am not saying that Chris Brown is the same as OJ Simpson, but maybe I am. Abuse starts somewhere, right? Where do people like this draw the line?

I am a firm, firm, firm believer in abuse awareness. I believe that boys need to be taught from an early age that it is NOT OKAY to hit a woman. It's not okay for a woman to hit a man either. Girls need to be taught about self-worth early on, even though it doesn't always help. I was always loved and cared for and appreciated and I still allowed someone to mistreat me. I was not beaten but I was severely mistreated. I want to help promote awareness for this. I don't want anyone to suffer in silence.

I don't know all the answers. I don't know why some men do this and I certainly don't know why women allow it. I spent a long, long time trying to figure out why I allowed someone to treat me badly and I cannot say that I found a good enough answer. I was deeply ashamed of myself. I didn't want my parents or friends to know and I didn't know why I stayed. I felt sorry for him and I always had an excuse.

I hope that Rhianna finds strength. I hope that she can be an inspiration and that she will bounce back from this. I hope that Chris Brown gets the serious help that he needs and is treated like every abuser should. Beating up a person like that is a big deal. It's not funny, it's not okay and it should not be overlooked.

Happy 21st Birthday, Rhianna!

Labels: Celebs, My story, personal

The Urge

I write. A lot. I always have. Pen to paper, that's always been my thing. I've always been crazy about a fresh notebook, a brand new pack of lined notebook paper- I always have a ton. And I'm a big sucker for pretty personalized stationary. I love my name(s), my initials, and monogram.

I've kept a diary/journal (is there a difference) for as long as I can remember. I have memories of writing silly songs at the kitchen table while waiting for my mom to get off the phone. I know I was very young. I taught myself how to read and write early, 4, maybe. I can remember vividly the first time I read by myself. My parents were amazed and I was so proud.

This was one of the many wonderful gifts my mom gave to my brother and me; books and words. She read to us while we were still in her womb. She read to us each night before bed. She joined book clubs so that we had many, many books in our home always. We were always encouraged to read and both of us, well, all three of us, still are avid readers.

I am the writer. I write letters. Yes, still. I write to both of Luke's grandmothers in Georgia. I wrote long letters to my Paw Paw Harry when he was alive. I write letters to Luke, to my mom, to everyone. I do have my own fancy embossed stationary that I just love. It's ivory and plain and elegant and heavy. I also have some fun stationary, too.

I get the urge to write. All. The. Time. It's happening more and more. I'm on unfamiliar ground with the feeling of the my thoughts being poured out onto a screen instead of my familiar handwriting on the paper in front of me. It took awhile for the release to be there, to be found in the typing of the keys instead of the holding of the pen. I have my personal journal that I write in and that will never change. It's like therapy. For me, when something has happened such as a fight with a friend or Luke or whatever, writing my feelings about it in the journal helps me sort out my feelings. Sometimes I see the situation differently. Most times I realize that it's not at all as bad as it seemed or I can better see a resolution.

Now that I have "the story" going, I have had to abandon the pen and put my new found computer skills to use. I am only learning how to do all of this now. I didn't take computer classes in high school. I was sick a lot (A LOT) and missed school a lot (A LOT) so, I was making up the classes I needed instead of electives. Funny how I still managed to go through the dreaded P.E. and the fabulous drama, though, hmmmmm. Anyway, I couldn't even type like a normal person. I hen pecked like the best of them. I learned where to put my hands ("home row keys") in middle school and that was about it. Now, I'm doing much better. I'm certainly not hen pecking anymore.

I am finding myself reaching for my laptop as an addict would reach for her pipe. I need the fix. It's something I NEED to do. I must write. The stories tell themselves to me and I wonder if real writers feel this way. Did Scout haunt Harper Lee? Was Scarlett keeping Margaret Mitchell company while she did her everyday tasks? Did these characters call to their creators and fight to have their stories told or am I schizophrenic?

They say the signs start in early to mid-twenties, right? I'm just saying

Labels: My story, personal, writing

OH WOW!

Look what I found over at one of my favorite places. And this is how Booklist describes it:

In this entertaining novel set in Washington, D.C., three very different women are brought together by a shared passion: shoes. They meet once a week to trade Manolos and Maglis, but soon they rely on each other for much more. Lorna, a debt-ridden waitress, founded the group to curb her destructive shopping sprees. Helene, a senator's trophy wife, attends to escape her loveless marriage and the banality of high-society life. Sandra, an overweight phone-sex operator, hopes the group can help cure her agoraphobia. They're joined by Joss, a young nanny, who doesn't care about shoes but needs a place to avoid her demanding boss. The four women become fast friends, trusted advisers, and eventually business partners. Readers will root for these four plucky women. Like the designer shoes that pepper its pages, this book is pleasing and stylish. This frothy confection is sure to fly off the shelves this summer. Aleksandra KostovskiCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

I bought it. I can't wait to read it! I'm just so mad because, HELLO, I should've written that book. I am working on a story. I refused to use the "B" word. It's working title is "My Lucky Seven". It's a story about a young (18) girl who grows up in a small southern town. She is the daughter of a prominent doctor and a very hoity toity mom. She's always a good girl, goes to good schools, does the right thing and all that until her Senior year Spring Break. She stays home to help her dad in his office and ends up having an affair with the hot young (married) doctor who is there to fill in for one of the other docs. She ends up pregnant, the hot doc runs off, and she keeps the baby. Her parents are horrified by her pregnancy and don't know what to do with her. She is on new ground too because, she's always done what they've told her and while she's not a total rebel, she is realizing that she has her own ideas.

I'm not stuck on her age. Maybe she's in college? I don't know the whole story either. The title comes from the name of the baby. The title character is named Natalie Carrington. That's not set in stone... She names her baby boy, Seven. There's a little thing, a reason but, I don't wanna say.

I'm thinking of starting the story with when he's put in her arms right after his birth. The beginning is so difficult.

Our eyes met and my stomach dropped. I felt every emotion there is in just a second- elation, fear, sadness, exhaustion, anger, and did I say fear?

Then that just feels too right-in-the-middle-of-the-story. So, I don't know.

So, I want your feedback on all of it. Go ahead and crush my dreams...

P.S. I've decided to put labels on my "diary entries" but they aren't showing up when I publish them on the blog. What's up with that?

Labels: feedback, My story, new books