On Wordy Wednesday

So many people have been doing 'Wordless Wednesday' that I felt the need to be a little bit different. 


Today's random word of the day comes from the Urban Dictionary:


EMAIL:


Once an efficient and fast method of communication and message transferring; now a way of harassing internet users with spam, credit card/insurance offers, porn links, and "Increase your penis size by five inches" advertisements. 




Hope you enjoyed the first installment of Wordy Wednesday. :) 

On Touch Base Tuesday

I feel like this a lot...

I'll admit it...

I've been a bad little author this month.

Class began the end of August and I've been brain seepage deep in American Literature (oh the joys of Puritan writing--and don't get me started on Columbus' letters).

It hasn't left a whole lot of time for my creative muse to flex her muscles in the fictional worlds I've created. In fact, she's been flexing those muscles in the form of essays and research papers-- I have to write another research paper this week...and I'm not sure what I'm doing it on yet.

Oops.

Even though I haven't sat down and worked on any of my WIP, I've been running them through my brain every few hours, and I've done various kinds of brainstorming--generally while I'm supposed to be absorbing some bone dry literary 'work of art'.

There are approximately two more chapters until the end of the first book in my YA series, and then I need to do a few more revisions on my still untitled contemporary short story.

On top of that there are several other stories simmering in my head--just waiting their turn in the queue.

I've missed working, and look forward to getting back to it in a few weeks.

After my final.

I hope you have a wonderful Tuesday.

What are your goals for the week?

Updates?

R.S.

On Things You Don't Know About Me

This isn't a usual blog, but then, what's really 'usual' for me? Huh?

I thought maybe my fellow readers would enjoy knowing some various information about me. What are some things not everyone knows about you?

Desert + Water = Happiness

1. I'm a Scorpio.
2. Halloween is the only 'holiday' I enjoy.
3. I'm right handed.
4. I have an Android phone with a touch screen.
5. I hate touch screens.
6. I don't watch Family Guy, the Simpsons, Modern Family, or any other 30 minute sitcoms. 
7. I love crime dramas--my DVR is filled with them.
8. The first concert I ever went to was Silver Chair. I was in ninth grade.
9. My first pet was an Australian Sheep dog named, Rah Rah. I was four.
10. I'm allergic to coffee.
11. I love Big Train Chai.
12. I went to art school.
13. I used to do photography for a living.
14. I'm an English Major with a Minor in Criminal Justice.
15. I hate shaving. So I get waxed instead.
16. I never used to believe in online dating--and then I met my hetero life mate online. 
17. I used to be a daddy's girl.
18. My Marine is my hero.
19. When I was in my early twenties I could drink 10+ shots of straight liquor, and not black out.
20. I no longer drink liquor.
21. I enjoy a glass, and on occasion, a bottle of wine.
22. I don't like pizza.
23. I love McD's chicken nuggets.
24. I've got one friend I've known since I was in first grade.  
25. I'm a natural redhead.
26. I love tattoos on men.
27. I have eight tattoos.
28. I wanted to be a homicide detective.
29. My first foray back into writing was through Fan Fiction.
30. I wrote Fan Fiction for Janet Evanovich's Plum Series.
31. I have more than six stories being plotted in my brain at all times.
32. I love the desert, but I miss the ocean.
33. I'm the youngest child of my parents.
34. I love high heels, but I don't wear them much anymore.
35. I've had chronic lower back problems since the birth of my daughter.
36. I do P90X to help strengthen my lower back.
37. When I was younger I played clarinet, bass clarinet, and the drums.
38. I also sang in choir.
39. Now I only sing in the shower or the car.
40. I'm married to my best friend--though I have to remind myself of that fact once in awhile. 

On September 11: With Guest Post From the Corpsman

September 11 Memorial

Ten years.


A decade.


3650 days.


A million memories.


Two wars.


Thousands of lives lost.


Millions of lives changed.




Today marks the ten year anniversary of one of our Country's greatest tragedies. 


What are you doing to remember it?


Are you:


Sitting around drinking a beer?


Working?


Sleeping off a night of partying, or preparing to party?


Are you living today like it is any other day?


Take a few moments, a few seconds, a breath-- and remember all that has been lost because of this day.

If you see a service member-- Police, EMT, Fire Fighter, Marine, Navy, Army, Air Force-- thank them for all they have done-- and remember they lost friends, family, and co-workers as well.


Remember that nothing is free in America.


Not even our Freedom.


It all comes at a price.


What price are you willing to pay?

R.S.


Below is a guest post from my dear friend, the Corpsman. Take a moment to read his memories of that fateful day in 2001--and the years that have followed. You can follow him on twitter.

The Day that Changed my Life

2,606

87

60

125

59

40

5,029

2,606

I was doing what any recently graduated 17 year-old does on a Tuesday off.  Sleeping in.  I was supposed to go over to a friend’s house and watch anime while her mom and dad did business in town.  I remember my mom coming in and turning on the TV in my room.  She says “Two planes just flew into the World Trade Center in New York and another one into the Pentagon.”  I remember watching those first images I had seen and thinking to myself that this was a movie.  There was no way that this could happen in our country.  Seems that I was naïve as the rest of the country.

I remember that morning clearly.  I watched as the towers fell.  And then the reports of Flight 93 crashing in that field in Pennsylvania, as the result of the courageous passengers taking the cockpit.  Todd Beamer, who I assume led the revolt, was overheard by an operator over a cell phone, “Are you guys ready?  Let’s roll.”  I only wish that I would be able to do the same thing in that situation.  He and all on the rest on Flight 93 are real heroes in my book.

I spent the rest of the day at my friend’s house, keeping our plans.  We both agreed that we needed to do something to take our minds off the bad day.  We had heard and seen enough pain, and we enjoyed each other’s company.

I already knew that I was going into the military.  This day gave me a tangible reason to go.  This was the first time in my life that I was so sure of something.  And even knowing where it would lead, I was not afraid.  I wanted the bastards to pay for what they did.  These feelings have waned over time, but I am still committed to the service of my country, and to my fellow service members, the same as I was when I signed my name on that line.  My life in the military has been nothing but serving others, and I find that a fitting tribute to any man courageous enough to lay down his life for something he believes in.

I’ve deployed four times since joining the military.  Once on a hospital ship at the beginning of the invasion in Iraq.  One to the coast of Somalia to hunt pirates.  One to the Philippines to assist in the hunt for Al-Qaeda in Asia, and the last was to Iraq, to train and ready the Iraqi Army to defend their country.  I’ve made some good friends along the way, as I have also lost some great ones.  Some say it comes from the job.  Peace comes from knowing that they died doing something they believed in.

The almost spontaneous response of patriotism in this country after that day was overwhelming.  But it was sad.  Why does it take an event of this magnitude for someone to be patriotic?  You should be honored and grateful to fly the nations flag every day of the year, not just after a tragedy.  Now, I understand that being a patriot isn’t just about flying the flag, but it’s about support.  People say they don’t support the wars.  However, that’s all people cried for the days following the events on September 11^th.  It just shows me that the average American doesn’t have the resolve or determination to see something through to the end.

Everyone knew that this was going to be a different type of war.  I’ve been there, and I can say that the cause is just.  What greater mission than to give another country the means to fight for what they believe in?  After all, if we don’t enable them to do so, who’s to say that someone else, someone more villainous and evil will fill that power void.  We need to see it through to the end, whatever the price.  If we end it prematurely, then what is the price paid by all those who have given their lives worth.  In my opinion, it would all be in vain.

Even though it seems so long ago, the day is as fresh in my mind as when it happened.  I will never forget.

2,606 – Deaths in the World Trade Center

87 – Passengers of American Airlines Flight 11, which at 0846 crashed into the North Tower

60 – Passengers of United Airlines Flight 175, which at 0903 crashed into the South Tower

125 – Deaths in the Pentagon

59 – Passengers of American Airlines Flight 77, which at 0937 crashed into the western side of the Pentagon

40 – Passengers of United Flight 93, which crashed into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania at 1003

5,029 – Coalition forces that have died in Iraq

2,606 – Coalition forces that have died in Afghanistan

I remember today, and every day.  Have you forgotten?  What will you do to honor them?

n  Doc Seven Echo, “The Corpsman”

On the Salem Witch Trials

In the American Lit class I'm currently taking, we had to go to the University of Virginia's Electronic Library's files on the Salem Witch Trials and read through the files. After choosing a case we were supposed to discuss how the legal documents reflected Puritan Ideology. 

This had to be done in 280-350 words. 

I've added some of my own editorializing to the version posted here. 

Of course. 

Case: Sarah Bibber

In Salem, Massachusetts in 1692 those accused of witchcraft were screwed from the first accusation.  There was zero hope for them. The Puritans didn't need actual evidence to try and convict their peers--they simply needed to claim they'd 'seen' or 'heard' the accused do something un-Puritan, and they were convicted.

Reading over the few transcripts there are from Sarah Bibber's 'trial' --a term used loosely when discussing the witch trials, I noticed many of them followed the same accusations. Almost word for word.

"Shee would call him, very bad names, And would have strange fitts when she was crost, and a woman of an unruly turbulent spirit." (John Porter and Lydia Porter vs. Sarah Bibber)

"Very much given to speak bad words and would call her husband bad names & was a woman of a very turbulent unruly spirit." (Jospeh Fowler vs. Sarah Bibber)

"I did observe her to be a woman of an unruly turbulent spirit, And would often
fall into strange fitts: when anything crost her humor." (Richard Walker vs. Sarah Bibber)

Let me just say this. 

It's a damn good thing I wasn't alive during Puritan Massachusetts. I'd have been the first one tried and convicted. 

The trial documents reflect on two known traits of the Puritan way of life. A belief that a woman was supposed to be demure and quiet (no turbulent, unruly spirits allowed there), and the requirement that women honor their husbands (Oh, yeah, that's me. Let me get right on that bandwagon)-- I've really never read much about Puritan wives calling their husbands 'bad names', without them being tied in some way to the witch trials of Salem.

I bet dear Sarah felt great, and was more than justified in calling her DFH bad names, and those other old Puritan biddies who turned her in for it were probably just jealous. You know they were probably thinking the same thing.

In Puritan Massachusetts, God-- and the people who either thought they were worthy enough to speak for him-- was law. The Bible put in black and white the ways the world was supposed to be, and anyone not falling into line with the 'Good Book' was sinning and sinners needed to be punished.

The Puritans just preferred to drown them, burn them, or crush them with rocks.  

In my young adult novel I actually did research on the Salem Witch Trials specifically for their acts of torture-- I mean execution. The crazy dude who inflicts pain on people really enjoyed their ideas as well as those from the Spanish Inquisition.  

Isn't it truly amazing how many people were tortured and killed in history--all in the name of "God"? 

R.S.

Works Cited:  The Salem witchcraft papers, Volume 1 : verbatim transcripts of the legal documents of the Salem witchcraft outbreak of 1692 / edited by Paul Boyer and Stephen Nissenbaum.
Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library

  

On Like Mother Like Daughter

Recently while on the way to pick up the Niece, the Munchkin and I came to a stop sign and prepared to make a right hand turn.

Two women, each about 400 pounds and neither standing taller than 5'2 took their rights as pedestrians for granted and mosseyed across my vehicles path at a leisurely pace-- in fact, I'm pretty sure I saw a snail speed past them.

My daughter looked at them, then glanced at me before looking back to them and saying, "haven't you ever heard of sidewalks, people?"

I swear, I don't know where she gets it from.

Really.

On Being Strong

Some days I don't feel strong.

I feel weak, like a stiff breeze will knock me over.

This isn't a physical weakness, though compared to the Marine there's no doubt my body is weak in comparison.
It's a mental and emotional weakness, and it surprises me when others don't see it in me. When they think I'm stronger than I see myself.

By no means am I a D.I.D. -- a damsel in distress, but I see myself differently than those who rely on me.

The Marine sees me as strong and capable of running the house, caring for our daughter, getting through college with a high gpa, and making sure our life runs smoothly whether he is home or in some random 'stan country.

The Munchkin sees me as strong because I fix her broken toys, read her stories, make the upset tummy monsters go away, and love her no matter what.

The Niece sees me as strong because I respect her, live my life relatively happily in my skin, and don't fall especially prey to the guilt guns our family often mans with shockingly good aim.

My friends say I'm strong, but really what do they see?

Everyone who knows and loves me believes I'm strong, but what they see is usually just a mask.

Yes, I can survive by myself, provide for myself and my daughter. I'm comfortable alone, and don't need approval.

I make it through months without seeing the Marine, and life continues, but sometimes when the world gets too dark, responsibilities weigh me down, and I'm scraping the bottom of my emotional barrel...

It would be nice if there was someone there to hold out their arms, offer a shoulder, or just say, "It's okay to cry. I won't think you're weak. Sometimes it takes strength to let go."

Because, I seem to keep forgetting that.


R.S.