To be Reading Again…

This is going to be a short one…
I can’t stop reading. It’s been YEARS since I really enjoyed sitting down and delving into the wonderful world of fiction, and it seems I can’t stop.
Books I’ve read in the last 3 or so weeks:
Proxy – Alex London
Red Queen – Victoria Aveyard
Guardian – Alex London
Half Bad – Sally Green
What Waits in the Woods – Can’t remember…

And tomorrow I get Half Wild, the sequel to Half Bad! It’s by far my favorite of the 5 books so far, but only by a tad. I loved 4 of these for so many reasons it’s hard to pick a favorite.

I don’t know why I’m suddenly back to reading after all these years, but I’m not going to question it.
I love it.
Now let’s all cross our fingers that I finish my next novel soon (I mean one I’m writing) so maybe one day I’ll be an author on some blogger’s list 🙂


A Book You Won’t Want to Miss: Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard

I haven’t actually read a book cover to cover for three years. Well, I should say “hadn’t.” That was until Proxy by Alex London, but I’ll get to that in a second.

I was at the mall, in the book store I’d been to a thousand times where I’d purchases hundreds of dollars worth in books I knew I’d never read. They just don’t interest me the way they used to, but I still looked around (half-heartedly) and stumbled upon a book called Red Queen. It had an intriguing cover so I decided to read the synopsis.

Another government take-over, I thought about halfway through the summary on the inside cover. It’s definitely what I enjoy reading, but really? Can we give it a rest? 

There was something different though. Maybe it was just the “synopsis writer’s” ability, or maybe it was fate or magic or whatever, but I got vibes off of this book. Vibes I hadn’t gotten since I was a child. A PRINCESS taking over the government? A hint of the supernatural? I had to read it with no idea why.

My boyfriend bitched at me for making him buy me another book when I had so many unread purchases laying around the house, so after promising him I’d read it, he bought it. When we got home, I read Proxy (one of those unread purchases) and LOVED it. I pre-ordered the sequel, which coincidentally was only a few days away from its release date. Until then, I could read Red Queen.

2 days later…


Victoria (I’m not going to call this woman by her last name. Let’s keep it real. She certainly does!) is by far one of the most impressive teen writers I’ve experience. You might be thinking, well, this guy hasn’t read in years… so… Bitch, I used to be an avid reader. From Stephen King to Stieg Larsson to Wendy Corsi Staub to J.K. Rowling, even to younger age-range authors like Christopher Pike and R.L. Stine. I know my books.

Victoria Aveyard has a way with words, a way with characters, settings, feelings, ALL OF IT. I didn’t read Red Queen. I EXPERIENCED Red Queen!

You know how teen novels have a way of building things up, then giving you a climax of ten pages that made the book seem mildly worth it and wildly mediocre? Kinda like The Hunger Games… I love it, but let’s get real. We ALL needed more. Meet Victoria. She will give you 60 pages of unrelenting climax, all the while keeping her writing style constant and unwavering.

You know how dystopian novels have a way of making the government out to be super evil and all powerful? A government incapable of being penetrated, then suddenly the main character penetrates them in a millisecond with no problems whatsoever after clearly making them seem impenetrable? Kinda like The Hunger Games…You know how it goes… Meet VICTORIA! She will give you characters who work within their limits, and when they don’t… THEY GET CAUGHT! THANK YOU.

The only con I have about this book (that’s worth specifying) is the price tag. While $18 is not near as expensive as other books I love (Harry Potter for example) it is still something readers are cautious about. How many times have we paid decent money for a book and ended up hating it? A thousand times. But don’t worry. That $18 is worth $50 in the world of books. You will not regret your purchase. You will wait by the computer for the next book to be announced and then you will WANT to pay extra to get it before it’s released. This book is amazing. Read it. NOW.

Victoria. Retweet this. Or your 10/10 stars goes to a 9/10. Maybe.


How to answer those age-old questions straight guy’s ask about why you are a lesbian.

Everybody needs to read this because for some reason people can’t quite wrap their head around the term “homosexual.”


Okay so every lesbian-correction- most lesbians have had a run in with a straight guy who can not grasp the fact that we do not want their penis in us. Yes we have a hole designed for something to go into but by no means does that mean we want YOUR penis to enter. So here I have complied some responses to said questions that I’ve found online or made up myself, some  are serious thought provoking answers, and some with a little more sarcasm. Hope you enjoy!

Guy: So why are you attracted to girls?

Me: The same reasons you are attracted to girls… seriously though if I have to explain what makes a woman attracted I’m honestly starting to question YOUR sexuality at this point.

you date girls

Guy: So what one of you is the guy?

Me: This is by far the dumbest question I’ve encountered. I like women, she…

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I’ll Be There… To Fuck You Over.

I’m going to try and keep this short. I’m having a discussion with someone on Twitter and it came to people fucking each other over. Here’s a direct quote from yours truly: “I don’t mind getting close to people. It’s just a matter of not caring when people fuck you over. It’s an inevitable part of life. People will do it without even realizing they are.”

It’s the truth. You can’t fully trust someone… Anyone. People are going to hurt you even when they’re not trying. Don’t be mad at them… You’ve probably done it too. We all have expectations in life… When it comes to friends or family you expect certain things while not realizing that they are probably expecting things as well–things that aren’t always going to mesh well with your things. So when they “fuck you over” don’t be mad. Just understand that they may not have been doing it on purpose. Maybe things just didn’t mesh. And if they did you wrong on purpose then that’s another lesson you need to learn sooner rather than later.

People are going to fuck you over. Sometimes it’s an accident. Sometimes it’s on purpose. You’ve done it. I’VE done it. We’ve all done it and if you don’t think you have, you probably need to analyze yourself a little better.

If you hold onto this anger, you will just be angry. Let it go. Realize that we all do wrong. We all make mistakes. Sometimes things aren’t meant to be.

But no matter what, you can be happy. It just takes some work.

BDSM: Sometimes Fantasies Should Stay Fantasies…

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 12.52.26 PMThere’s a new music video that’s about to be out–one you won’t want to miss. It’s simple. It’s dark. It’s sexy, and it’s nasty without getting anything other than a PG-13 rating. Well… if it was rated. It’s mine.

I’ve been working on the music video for SACRIFICE (listen to the demo here: for a few weeks now and I’m proud to say it’s almost finished! The release date has yet to be set, but it will be soon. I mean before-school-is-out soon! I’m more excited than you can believe, but before you start to get crazy ideas about what the video is actually about, I wanted to say something about it.

First let me say this: playing with lighting has most definitely become my favorite part of filmmaking. You know that feeling you get when something amazing has happened, or when you have accomplished something great, or when that person you like just announced that they like you back? THAT’S how I felt tonight when I saw my shots. The lighting was… orgasmic. It was a dream.


Video Synopsis: I’m normal… But I have some fantasies… Don’t we all? I lie down on the couch, messing around with my phone, thinking about meeting up with someone I met online. I open up my computer to check them out a bit more before deciding… what the hell? What do I have to lose? “I’m on my way,” I text. BAM, out the door in such a hurry I almost forget my keys. Before leaving I contemplate what I’m doing for a moment while sitting in my car. No time for thinking–it’s time to act. I start the car and leave.

In the dark I’m bound and gagged, treated like a slave… like an animal. It’s terrifying. It’s amazing. It’s the most heightened sexual experience of my life…

I begin to change. I’m beaten, broken down. Used. Humiliated. Is this what I want? No… But I deserve it. I’m a disgusting pig whore and I need to be treated as such.

I struggle, I try to get away, but there’s no use. I am no longer my own. I am an object. I belong to someone else.

The transformation comes to a close and I completely lose my sense of self. I am no longer a person. I no longer have thoughts or feelings of my own. All I need to do is please my master.

And then I wake up on the couch where I’d fallen asleep. It was all a dream. Thank God, I think… Because sometimes… Sacrifice - Screenshotfantasies should stay fantasies…

So that’s it. That’s the music video in word form. Well, aside from the lyrics… but a song tel
ls much more of a story than just the lyrics… And if you add a video… Well, you’ve got yourself a novel idea.

Thanks for reading 🙂

Suicide: A Five Year-Old’s First Encounter with Reality

I remember the night I found out my step-mother killed herself. We were sitting in the bedroom (my mother, older brother, Tyler, and I) on one of the twin beds that conveniently stacked into bunk-beds. I believe I was five years old. Tyler must have been seven or eight. Wesley, our younger brother, wasn’t present. It wasn’t really any of his concern, and even if it had been, he couldn’t have been two years old at the time and would have understood the situation less than I did.

I don’t actually remember Suzanne. Sometimes I think I do, but they’re probably just those “memories” you accidentally make up to fill in those annoying gaps. I do know that at the time I held her in such high-esteem. She was so nice. And blonde. And pretty. But now when I look at her pictures she looks like she must have been a miserable drug addict… I don’t know if she was, but being that she was married to my father, I probably hit the nail right on the head. Married to my father… barely. I think he said they were married for thirteen days before she shot herself in the head. On his birthday. After he was allegedly passed out drunk in bed. Allegedly.

Anyway, we were sitting on the bed and Mum spoke to us real calm and kind.

“I’ve got to tell you something about Suzanne,” she said.

I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking, but I’m sure I was excited. I may not remember her face from anything more than her pictures, but I do remember how I felt about her. Maybe I thought she was going to come for a visit. Maybe I though I was going to get two moms instead of two moms and two dads. I don’t know…

“Sometimes people don’t get to stay here on Earth as long as we want them to,” she said. I’m sure Tyler knew what was coming next while I cluelessly wondered what she was talking about.

“Sometimes God needs them in Heaven to be an angel.”

Just so you know, I have no idea if this is how the conversation actually went down. It’s a vague memory obviously. I was five. But my memory of angel wings and clouds is strong.

“Well why can’t she be on Earth and be in Heaven?” I asked.

“Well because now she’s a spirit—like the Holy Ghost.”

The Holy Ghost… I always thought of him as Casper except with a bunch of holes. At that age you don’t have any grasp on spirituality. It’s all just fun and games.

Even Suzanne’s death was a fun thing for me to think about at the time. She was an angel now. How exciting, right? She got wings like they do in the movies and she would get to fly around and maybe even she would drop by my window one night to tell me hello.

Oh, she did. A lot. But it wasn’t to say hello. It was to scare the living hell out of me… but I’ll get into that later.
So this conversation came and went in our little trailer house in the middle of the mountains. Or was it the desert? Kind of both, I guess…

I remember seeing how sad people seemed to be. I didn’t understand why. It was a happy thing, right? Dad cried all the time. I think we saw him on the weekends… Mum just kind of looked at us with concern. People seemed to be walking on egg shells as if it would keep their emotions in check… I guess? It was a confusing time for me.
I was riding in the truck with Tyler and Dad later. It was a green truck, and even though I was small, the truck seemed tiny. I suppose it must have been.

“Dad, when Suzanne shot herself did the blood spurt out of her head like a water fountain?” I asked. How I knew she died of a gunshot wound to the head, I have no idea. Who the hell tells a five-year-old something like that? I understand children need to live in the real world, but the morbid details don’t seem necessary to me at such a young age. It’s something I wondered about a lot. Did it spurt out like a water fountain? It seemed like it would be the right way for someone’s head to bleed.

“Yes it did,” he said as he wiped a tear from his cheek. He seemed so mad at me for asking and I didn’t understand why. I know now he was just trying to get me to shut up. “Yes” was the answer I wanted to hear, so “yes” was the answer he gave.
And it worked. I just sat in the backseat staring out the window imagining what it was like, wondering if maybe Suzanne shot herself in the back of that very truck and watched her reflection in the window and saw the blood spray like a fountain.

On another occasion I was once again in the back of a truck—this time it was my mum and step-father’s big white truck. I hated that truck. It was so bumpy and we weren’t allowed to have food or drinks in it. Dumb.

“Mom, does Suzanne have wings like an angel?” I asked her.

“I’m not sure, Chance.”

“Why not? Angels in movies have wings.”

“Well I don’t know if she’s an angel.”

“But why? Aren’t all dead people angels?” I was so confused. She said God needed her to be in Heaven to be an angel and now she was saying she wasn’t sure? Plus, she didn’t know if angels had wings or not. What a disappointing answer. Moms were supposed to know everything. Maybe she was just not telling me the whole truth.

“I’m just not sure if she’s an angel or not. Only God knows that.”

“But why don’t you know if she’s an angel? Shouldn’t she be an angel? Why wouldn’t she be an angel?” I remember driving everyone crazy with my constant questions. People don’t like questions. Because people don’t ever have answers for the difficult ones and difficult questions are inevitable when dealing with someone who asks a lot of questions.

“Because she killed herself, Chance. People who kill themselves might not get to be angels.”

“Oh… Well is she still in Heaven?”

“I don’t know if she gets to go to Heaven either,” she answered. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Well, where will she go if she doesn’t go to Heaven?”

“She might go to Hell. But I doubt that. God forgives people for their mistakes.”

This was the first time I’d ever heard of Hell. It didn’t sound like a good place. People used that as a bad word which meant that it was surely a bad place to go. I didn’t want Suzanne to go to Hell. Finding out that it was a possibility had me distraught. Maybe there was something I could do to keep her from going to hell… It was a fleeting thought.

After that I remember the day that it hit me. Suzanne was not going to be in my life anymore. She was gone. Forever. Tyler and I were at Mum’s beauty school. If I remember correctly, it was two pale pink trailers placed next to each other. At the time, it was one of the coolest places I’d ever seen. I’m sure if I went back there today I would think of it as trash. But children don’t see social, political or economic class. They just see things. People. Everything is so neutral and equal. That is a beautiful thought. But no beautiful thoughts were being thought that day.

I sat outside on the bench by the backdoor with Tyler and Mum and cried with them while she held us. I cried so much for what seemed like forever. I just couldn’t believe that she was gone. How did that even work? How does someone just “be gone?” It came as such a shock to me to find out that the world worked in such cruel ways. That God worked in such cruel ways. Things were supposed to be happy. As long as we picked up our toys and ate our dinner and listened to Mum and Charlie and Dad and Suzanne everything was supposed to be good.

You know how they say a child’s brain development in the first five years is the most important? I’m assuming that five is also when their personality begins to bloom. I mean, I know that toddlers have personalities, but children seem to really start comprehending reality at age five.

This was the first reality I comprehended. People die. They will never come back. And people do that to themselves. People shoot themselves in the head and blood spurts out of them like a waterfall. Why? Because they’re sad on Earth and they want to be angels. But they won’t be angels because they’re going to Hell.

Being Normal

Normal is such an odd word, isn’t it? When I think of what normal must be I imagine the perfect amount of everything. The perfect amount of happy, the perfect amount of sad, the perfect amount of mad. Perfect hair with a perfect face. A perfect body with perfect skin. Because that’s what we’re taught normal is, right? Basically it’s perfection without being too perfect. When I compare myself now to who I want to be I think I imagine my future self as being normal. Being wealthy, but looking comfortable. A cabin in the mountains where it doesn’t get too hot or too cold, where I can feel secluded, but only have to drive fifteen minutes to get into town. Two children and a garden. Perfect. Normal. Except in a pretty place instead of the suburbs.

Then I realize I’m already normal. It may not be your normal and it may not be The Normal, but it is normal. It’s normal for me to feel things a lot more than I think most people do. When I’m mad, I’m furious. When I’m happy, I’m ecstatic. When I’m sad, I’m depressed. When I’m content, I’m bored. When I’m afraid, I’m terrified. Paranoid. When I dislike, I hate. When I love, I smother… Sometimes shove. It’s a blessing and a curse, but most days I think it’s more of a curse. I’ve been this way since before I can even remember.

Call it what you want. I’ve been told I’m bipolar, obsessive compulsive, narcissistic—the list goes on. Some of these suggestions were even made by doctors. (I call them suggestions because the term diagnosis means nothing to me in a day and age where undereducated doctors are taught to lie and prescribe drugs that are worse than the illnesses they’re meant to treat.) I don’t think I am any of those things. I think I’m a person with a brain that doesn’t work like every brain out there just like your brain doesn’t work like every brain out there. Because what is normal? Normal is whatever you are, whatever you’ve been and whatever you will become. And if you don’t feel normal because maybe what you want to be isn’t what you are, there is only one thing you can do. Stop being what you are and become what you want to be. If you really want it, it’s probably what you were meant to be all along. Just remember there is a difference between changing yourself because you don’t like who you are and changing yourself so you can be the best version of who you are.

That’s what I tell myself to help me sleep at night.