I wanna drop kick art students

Undeclared by Jen Frederick
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

This is my first foray into the "new adult" (NA) genre. I find it ... a little dull in terms of pacing; it has a lot of introspection but the character development is really slow. The female protagonist made me want to shake her on occasion, but that's probably because of some cultural thing. We don't dither that way in college here; we just jump in our course and just wade through 'em, come hell or high water.

The guy was interesting in that he served in the Marines before going to college. I was hoping for more development on his front as he had a great deal of things happen in his life that would shape him beyond the good-looking MMA champ-to-be who is breezing through college. Perhaps there's more about him in the second book, but I'm not sure if I want to spend my time there.

There's a great deal of partying, not enough school work at college here to make me feel that the situation is real. Perhaps that's because I was a science student; maybe the arty farty types have more jolly time in college. I don't know. But over all, even if I did read this in college, I'd probably drop it thinking that people sure don't think much about people my age.



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A dreadful man, all intemperate appetites and no decorum to speak of.

A Lady Awakened by Cecilia Grant
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Happiness is ... finding more books by a wonderfully enjoyable author at the rental book store.

Ms. Grant's debut heralded all the delicious things one can expect from her books: sensuality married with subtle humour and period-specific banter that truly enhances the characters' growth over the story arc.

She is excellent at writing characters who tread the fine line of acceptability or even jumped across it with glee. I also love that her characters are of the gentry and not nobility, with different sets of challenges to overcome and expectations of role in society.

She has a way of exploring her characters' inner landscapes to flesh them out with wit and thought. In this book, she pitted a conniving widow against a ne'er do well wastrel. I love how they transformed each other, by learning about one another so thoroughly, before they actually identified the affection and esteem each held for the other as love.


Some of my favourite passages:

Whose idea of good design was this? Why those awkward angles, and what could be the necessity for all that hair? If one believed, as the Bible and the Greek myths had it, that man had been created first and woman after, then one must conclude there had been some dramatic improvement in the process following that amateurish first attempt.

Oh how her disdain has changed over the course of the book.

"And are you my king?" Her eyes, in the mirror, stayed trained to his.

He shook his head. "Stablehand." She didn't resist as he brought her knee up; draped her leg over the chair's arm. "Great strapping stablehand who's caught the queen's eye and been summoned to service her in her chambers."

Role play can be so hot.

Mellifluous and thoroughly enjoyable.

Male protagonist: 4/5 stars
Female protagonist: 4/5 stars
Storyline: 4/5 stars
Pacing: 4/5 stars
Fun Factor: 4/5 stars
Repeat Reading Factor: 4/5 stars


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Eating crap

Diet is d-i-e with a t

Your body is a temple; worship it. So you take good care of what goes into it.

Paleo diet.

Atkins diet.

Gluten free.

Dairy free.

Vegan.

Organic.

The list goes on.

All this is because we believe that we are what we eat. Garbage in, garbage out. Right?

Well, consider yourself lucky that you are not part of the African aquatic and terrestrial ecosystem that are dependent upon tonnes of hippo faeces for a nutritious diet.

Invisible fine print

Deep in the hearts of sleep deprived parents of young children, babies and toddlers is Samuel L Jackson reading this.



Parents who are at wits end to feed their kids anything (forget nutritious stuff that are actually good for them), will nod along to this ...



Things they don't tell you when you are told to go forth and multiply.

I want a perfect soul

When I first heard this on the radio, my first thought was: YES.



This song is my personal anthem; it resonates with my psyche, illuminates the darkest corners of my soul, voices the dreams I left unsaid. It has been many years, but my Pavlovian response to the opening chord remains the same.

This version by Scott Bradlee and co may not have the same shadowy depths but it's still delicious and hits the gut with a punch.



Happy Monday, y'all.

Coulrophobic no more

I've always found clowns creepy. No, I never saw or read It. I just don't like the idea of people whose faces are disguised from me; it rouses such violent impulses in me. Heck, I'd decap Ronald McDonald given the opp.

But this video goes a long way to make me look at grease-painted jesters with a little more equanimity.





But I still doubt I'd date one.

Autophagy*

Picture by alizzzz is stolen from here. 

I taste like clouds.

The scissor didn't hurt as much as I'd thought. Its point slipped through the fibre of my skin delicately, elegantly. The blades snipped through me almost by its own volition, its jaws opening and closing with unexpected gentleness, separating the threads tenderly.

I taste like clouds.

I look down as the scissors progressed from the base of my belly, moving up and up, all the way to my throat. The blades stopped. My skin separated beneath the pressure of the incision.

I taste like clouds.

Almost immediately my stuffings fell out, like eager children after the bell rang, tumbling out the door that had confined them. My stuffings billowed out like exuberant clouds racing through the sky of a sunny afternoon. It fell out between my paw-feet, pillowy soft. I could feel the pressure within me ease. My knee gave way and I slumped against the wall.

I taste like clouds.

My paw-hand trembled as I scooped up what once gave me form and dimension. It seemed wrong to leave it wasted on the floor. I didn't know what to expect. It was soft and springy, the darker pink contrasted beautifully with the pale shell of my skin.

I taste like clouds.

I squeezed my hand-paw. I thought I'd feel a tug within, but nothing. My stuffing regained its former fluff, with a faint trace of the shape of my palm. The slight breeze from the fan made it quiver. I didn't notice as more spilled out of me, decorating the floor with whimsy.

I taste like clouds.

My stuffing crossed my lips. It was like a blissful sacrament of tenderness and joy. The sweetness was indescribable. It rested on my tongue for an eternity, before my jaws moved slowly, my teeth grinding my stuffing industriously, thoughtfully.

I taste like clouds.

The adults always tell you not to play with scissors, but they don't know what I know now: the scissors were a liberator. I am now free of the weight of my form and function.

I can just be.

I am.

Free.

*Title is taken from the biology term that describes "eating one's self". Cross-posted on writing blog and Facebook.