Forking Irrational

Lots of folks have irrational fears. I have a few myself. Jewelry, car washes (I have been making strides against this one, however), mascots, and things with holes in them (not as severe as most who share this fear, thankfully).

But what about irrational anger? Or hatred? I mean, at some point in life, I’m sure almost everyone is guilty of being irrationally angry about some scenario or comment or interaction, or someone feels irrational, inexplicable hatred toward some being or item.

Me? I have an irrational hatred toward forks. Three-pronged forks, to be exact.

Three prongs simply are not enough. I must have four prongs on my forks. I’m not so anal about it that I specifically request four-pronged forks when I go to restaurants, but if it is within my power to procure a fork with four prongs as opposed to one with three, I will do so.

If I could eliminate three-pronged forks from the universe, I absolutely would, no question. I do not care about any potential detriment to etiquette their extinction would cause, three-pronged forks are an abomination and deserve to be destroyed.

Where did this irrational hatred come from? No clue. But the sight of three-pronged forks fills me with intense, fiery hatred. They are the most inferior members of the fork family, of that I will never be dissuaded. In fact, they might even be the lowliest of all utensils… or perhaps that is reserved for the spork.

And, since it’s not causing harm to anyone, I have more or less accepted the fact that, although this particular hatred is 100% forking irrational, there’s nothing wrong with it, and so I shall continue my fork hating ways undeterred.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

 

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Book News!

My YA novel, I’m With You, is officially available on the Nook, and it’s only $1.99!

Here is the LINK to the Barnes&Noble website. Give it a read, and leave a review to help an indie author out.

book coverSynopsis: When fifteen-year-old Ciarán Morrigan eavesdrops on a conversation between his father and two mysterious strangers, his life–and the life of his little sister, Remiel–is changed forever. After their father makes a startling decision, the Morrigan siblings are forced to flee the only life they’ve ever known and embark on a dangerous adventure across the nation of Empirya. With the help of a disinherited vagabond, a cynical violinist, a fire-juggler with a fierce temper, an aspiring mechanic, and a cheerful librarian, Ciarán and Remiel must fight to escape those who have been hired to hunt them. But will Remiel’s dark secret prevent the Morrigan children from finding a place they can truly call home?

It’s also still available in ebook format on Amazon, and is still available for paperback on both Amazon and Barnes&Noble for $9.99.

Sick of It

Now that Oscar season is over, and I’ve returned to my regular style of posting, I had big plans for this Friday blog post. I was going to do something eloquent, compelling, perhaps a story about life or loss, or a pearl of wisdom from my (admittedly shallow) pool of life experience…

But no, that will not happen today. And do you want to know why?

Because I am sick.

And not sick as in the slang term for “cool,” like people used to toss out in the 90’s. Sick as in ill, complete with head-pounding, sneezing, coughing, and a runny nose. Woke up with a sore throat on Tuesday, and hoped – no, prayed to all the deities I don’t believe in – that it was just an allergy-related side-effect due to the crazy weather that’s beleaguered my neck of the woods for the past couple of weeks. Seriously, not too long ago it was 70 degrees, and then two days later, we got four inches of snow, which promptly all melted the following day and caused minor flooding. So my allergies have been a bit of a tizzy.

Alas, it was not meant to be. Tuesday was mostly fine, to the point where I hoped I could just brush it off as a tickle, but Wednesday, in spite of my best efforts to fend it off, I was sniffling and sneezing and suffering from a massive headache by the end of my work shift. It was undeniable, at that point.

I’ve got a cold.

I suppose when some people come down with a cold, as oft happens at the junction between seasons or due to other outside factors, they use it as an excuse to curl up in bed and wallow in their warm blankets surrounded by piles of crinkled tissues, sipping soup and stewing in misery, binging a new or favorite series on Netflix.

Not I – I do not feel miserable when I get sick. No, I get pissed.

I think, in general, that I have a pretty strong immune system. I mean, I eat fruit every day – that’s supposed to help, right? And that’s no easy feat, since I’m allergic to pineapple and recently discovered a mild sensitivity to citrus. I work out at least 5 days a week, sometimes more, though my arms still have the muscle-strength of a pool noodle. I endeavor to get enough sleep, in spite of my cat’s best efforts to foil those efforts. I wash my hands at a near obsessive rate and avoid germs whenever possible, and keep away from folks I know have a contagious illness until they are cleared by a trained physician. So when my health fails, and I am struck down by the snot demons, my rage-meter hits a solid ten.

It’s worse when I can attribute the illness to a specific cause, because then, I have somewhere to direct my rage. One time, in college, one of my coworkers – who was sick – was using our communal computer to do homework. I used it shortly after, assuming that most sick people have the common decency to disinfect the surfaces/items they use when they know someone else will also be using it, but APPARENTLY, SOME PEOPLE ARE IRREDEEMABLE HEATHENS WITH HORRENDOUS MANNERS WHO ENJOY SPREADING THE PLAGUE WITHOUT ANY THOUGHT OF THE REPERCUSSIONS.

But I digress… this time, there is no certain target for the brunt of my fury. I’m pretty sure it was either the wonky weather or the fact that at least half of my coworkers have been sick over the last month, not to mention the fact that I work with the public and so many people don’t cover their mouths when they cough/sneeze, so, though I valiantly staved colds off for the majority of winter, my formidable immune system has at last failed me.

So I’ve been enraged for about two days now. I’ve tried not to let it hinder me – I went to the gym today, did some grocery shopping, and managed some chores – but I have indulged a bit, and have spent the past few hours watching reruns of 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown in bed. But I also have a method for combating illness, which has worked quite well for me in the past. And in order to fight the germs, certain supplies are needed…

1.) Water. Hydration is important at all times, but especially when you can only breathe out of your mouth.

2.) Orange Juice. Or other fruit juice, probably. But the good stuff, not stuff like Sunny D. If you have issues with citric acid, there are low acid brands, and make sure to use a straw. The straw is vital.

3.) Comfy clothes. I’m uncomfortably warm at the moment, but sweating it out helps. Fleece-lined leggings and bulky sweatshirts are my go-to.

4.) Tissues. And splurge on the ones with aloe. Your nose will thank you.

5.) Meds. Depends on what works for you/symptoms and MAKE SURE TO READ THE DIRECTIONS. I’m a quil person, myself. Both Day and Ny.

6.) Heating pad. For aches and pains.

7.) Soup. I get won-ton soup for the Chinese food joint at my local grocery store, and I swear it has medicinal properties. It’s become a go-to for other members of my family, now, that’s how well it works.

8.) Sleep. As much as possible.

9.) Hand sanitizer/disinfectant wipes. I try and wipe down/clean surfaces and items that I use when I am ill and know someone else will be touching it. Because that is what DECENT PEOPLE DO. THEY DON’T TOUCH THINGS WITH THEIR SICK HANDS AND ALLOW THEIR GERMS TO SPREAD WITHOUT ATTEMPTED PREVENTION.

10.) Ice Cream. This one is optional, but after spending an entire day taking care of myself and being steamed over the state of my health, some Tonight Dough is necessary. It does help soothe a sore throat, as well.

Following this method, I have at times been able to conquer a cold before it truly has time to manifest in full glory. A few years back, I realized a cold was brewing, so I stocked up on meds, OJ, and soup, partook in all three in acceptable doses throughout the day, and then swaddled myself in several blankets and warm clothes and slept for 12 hours. Pretty sure I sweated the cold out over the course of the night, because I felt fine the next day. I’ve never been able to replicate such speedy results, but following these guidelines, I am usually able to defeat illnesses within a couple of days, so my life can then resume as normal.

Thankfully today (It’s Thursday March 8th as I write this) I didn’t have to work, so I have consumed 2 quarts of magical won-ton soup, two large glasses of OJ, some meds, a whole ton of water, and I’m wrapped up in my GoT hoodie and comfy leggings and relaxing. So let’s hope this cold is quashed by tomorrow, or when I venture out into the world, some folks are bound to face my wrath…

Blue Screen

Thought I’d share a poem I wrote several years ago for an English assignment when my old desktop computer (which I still have and still works) was constantly blue screening, much to my frustration. 

 

Blue Screen

Go away, blue screen.
With your white words
that no one with average intelligence understands.
I’m trying to do my homework.
And you wipe it all away, blue screen.
With one ‘whirr.’
My hard work disappears.
How dare you.
I forgot to save.
And you shut my computer down.
Before I’ve finished.
EVERY TIME.
And now you’re staring at me.
In all your blue glory.
Making me run my computer in safe mode.
You’ve taken over.
A digital dictator in cobalt blue.
Has a virus made you come, blue screen?
I’m fairly sure I ran a protection program
to make you happy and safe, always
Very well…I’ll do it again.


What’s that? Nothing’s wrong?
Then why are you here, blue screen?
Seriously, this is due tomorrow.
And that is due next week.
I can’t even listen to music
if you keep popping up, blue screen!
I have a s,fjaldgj,smfnbsjhg: error?
Is that even English?
I have erased all of my possibly dangerous files.
And deleted many programs, just for you.
And yet you remain,
taunting me with your blueness,
and incoherent white-lettered babble.
Oh, blue screen…
Can you not see that you are unwanted?
I AM TRYING TO DO MY HOMEWORK.
Seriously.
Go away.
OR I WILL THROW MY COMPUTER INTO THE STREET.
And you will never glow blue again.
Don’t think I won’t do it.



It’s been a while, blue screen.
You haven’t shut down my computer yet today.
It’s been a nice reprieve
from your teal tyranny.
Have you decided to be nice?
I find that difficult to believe.
You’ve never been nice before.
I will wait.
….

And yet, you still don’t come.
Hurrah!
Perhaps now I will accomplish something!
All of my homework will be done!
Without constantly pressing ‘restart!’
Without my anguished cries of ‘Why?!’
Without that annoying blue screen popping up
at the most inconvenient of tim –





Curse you, blue screen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m hosting an Amazon giveaway for kindle copies of my YA novel, I’m With You. 20 copies are up for grabs, and the giveaway ends February 9th, 2018. No cost or special requirement to enter, you just have to be over 18 and live in the US! I hope to run an international one soon.

If you’d like to enter for a chance to win, here is the LINK! (Amazon)

What’s in a Name?

Nicknames are a curious thing. Monikers earned due to a specific event, a casual simplification of a name, or a specific trait. Though I’m mostly referred to by my actual given name, I’ve had a few nicknames over the years, and while some have lingered, others have faded away – for the better, in some cases.

Briefly, in my later years of elementary school, I was called “Alf.” It’s a shortening of my first name and the first initial of my last name. It’s also the name of a furry extraterrestrial sitcom character from the 80’s, to whom I like to think I bear no resemblance. This one didn’t last very long, though – only a year or so, if that.

After an accident during a track meet when I was fifteen, I was plagued by a recurring injury that resulted in the disastrous end to my athletic career, a few stints with crutches, and reconstructive knee surgery. Due to my less than stellar walking ability for those months, a handful of friends dubbed me “Gimpy.” Other variations of this name were used, but “Gimpy” was the most frequent, and that stuck from sophomore year of high school through senior year, long after my limping stopped. Fortunately, I have since shed it, and no one has referred to me this way . Looking back, though the nickname was imposed upon me with a measure of friendly affection, it’s actually pretty offensive, so I’m glad I don’t look over my shoulder at a shout of “Gimpy!” anymore.

In college, a friend gave me the nickname “Allenson.” The impetus of this one is foggy, but I think it had something to do with Vikings? I’m not entirely sure of the circumstances, but I do remember it was hilarious.

I actually used to detest being called “Allie.” I used to think it was too “girly” sounding for me since I was a huge tomboy growing up, so whenever folks called me “Allie” in an effort to be nice or spark a rapport, they were met with my wrath. It’s a variant of my actual name, but none of my family ever called me Allie in my early years. However, when I got to kindergarten there was another little girl with the same first name, and she ended up with the shortened moniker while I got to keep the long version, a distinction which lasted through the entirety of high school. Now, I do not mind being called “Allie” as an adult – I wouldn’t have chosen it as my pseudonym, otherwise. Most people in my life don’t call me Allie anyway, except for the few folks who only know me for my writing – it’s actually made it somewhat easier to separate my personal/business life. As a writer, I also give a lot of my characters nicknames – either due to their actions, or traits, or because I can’t be bothered to type their full name out all the time.

People closest to me (family, close friends) commonly refer to me as “Al.” It’s the kind of nickname that sounds wrong when it comes from the lips of an acquaintance, or from someone I’m not very familiar with. If I go out and meet someone who proceeds to call me “Al” without prompting, or without knowing much about it, it grates on me – in a “You have not earned the right to refer to me as such” type of way. I’m not sure why that is, or why I’m so particular about it – perhaps because “Al” is the most personal nickname I’ve ever had. It’s an “If you don’t know me, don’t call me that” nickname.

Nicknames can be adored, abhorred, earned, given, or inherent – and some carry a unique origin story with them. What’s your unique nickname story?

 

Pancakes

For a very long time – like, half of my life – I hated pancakes.

I refused to eat them, even at the annual pancake dinner fundraiser held at my church. The very thought of them – and their fluffy, syrupy goodness – made me feel nauseous. Same goes for waffles and any other similar breakfast foods. I straight-up hated them and wouldn’t touch them with a four-pronged fork. Because those are the only legitimate forks, by the way. Don’t come at me with that three-pronged fork nonsense. Four-prong all the way.

Truth be told, I’m not sure where my pancake hatred began, or what the impetus was. I just know that up until a few years ago, the word “pancake” equated to “EW,” in my brain, so I always skipped over them on diner menus and whenever they were offered up as a breakfast option at a sleepover or something.

Then, one fateful day when I was in my late teens, I somehow ended up at an IHOP. And, of course, you can’t not order pancakes at IHOP. It’s the International House of Pancakes, for crying out loud. I mean, it’s not like it’s the NHOP, or National House of Pancakes. It is a force not restricted by national borders – you cannot forsake the cake at an IHOP, end of story.

So I ordered the most generic pancakes available on the menu and figured I could just slather them with syrup, suck it up, and suffer through it. But when they arrived at the table, an odd thing happened. My nose twitched, enticed by the sweet scent of maple. And my mouth began to water, instead of my mind blaring, “EW” over and over again like a siren. My stomach growled, too.

So, I took a hesitant bite. Then another, and another. And wouldn’t you know it?

As it turns out, I kind of like pancakes.

Now, I order them for breakfast all the time! I prefer the oat-bran variety, though, because I am secretly an old woman concerned about my digestive system. But I never would have known this if I hadn’t given pancakes a second chance. Inspired by my quick turnaround in opinion when it comes to pancakes, I have also tried to see if my opinion has changed on other foods, but alas, I still hate watermelon (all melons, actually), pears, squash, pretzels, and animal crackers, among others. But I have made an effort to give the things I once dismissed a fair chance to prove me wrong.

So, what’s the moral of this pancake-based tale, you might ask? Is it to always give those you have spurned a second chance?

In a way, yes. Pancakes deserved a shot at redemption in my eyes, to prove their worth to me. I granted them that chance, and they effectively reshaped my opinion, to the point where they are now one of my favorite breakfast foods.

However, people don’t always deserve a second chance. That would be ridiculous. It’s a case-by-case basis when it comes to human beings – sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Some people deserve a chance to right a wrong or mend a bridge or whatever. You’re not obligated to give people a second chance if you don’t want to, though. Because people aren’t pancakes.

Always, always give pancakes a second chance.

~~~~~~
If you’re in need of a new read, or need something to spend your holiday money on, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Paperback is also $9.99 on BN.com.

Expectations vs. Reality

Last week, I went into Star Wars: The Last Jedi knowing nothing save for the scenes included in the two trailers. Sure, after three viewings of The Force Awakens in 2015 I had concocted some theories about what was going to happen in the next installments. Though I’ve never been an active member of the fandom (as in, I don’t participate in any discussions online, but I am a big-time lurker on forums and such) I had a general knowledge of some of the more intense fan theories, and had a few ideas of my own rattling around about Rey’s parents, Supreme Leader Snoke’s true identity, what the return of Luke Skywalker would entail, and all the other questions that have been plaguing both die-hard and casual fans for the last couple of years.

Though some of my theories were wrong, a couple were confirmed, and some remain unanswered, I genuinely loved The Last Jedi. I had a couple of quibbles with it as far as the plot goes (no spoilers) but all in all, I felt that it was a strong film with excellent performances and some moments and scenes that I consider the best to ever feature in a SW film.  So, when I broke my social media ban and discovered that a vocal part of the fandom had major issues with the film (to the point of making a petition to have it struck from the canon, apparently) I was surprised. I mean, last I checked, the RT score for the critics was hovering in the low 90’s, but the audience score is in the 50’s, even lower than all, or most, of the prequels. Reading through the litany of complaints and the diatribes about all the things that “went wrong” with the film, I do see and understand how folks didn’t like it. Obviously not everyone is going to love a film – I know folks who didn’t like TFA, either, so I’m not trying to invalidate those who genuinely didn’t like TLJ. But with such a polarizing reaction to a film with such a passionate, dedicated fan base (for the better and the worse) behind it, It leads me to wonder; how much do our expectations of something color our opinion of it once we experience the reality? Does over-hype and rampant speculation lead to lukewarm reception?

I mean, I may not actively participate in the SW fandom, and my experience with the media outside of the films (novels, comics, the EU stuff, etc) is limited, but I am invested in it nonetheless. But there are folks out there (not a criticism, btw – I admire people with this level of dedication so long as it doesn’t interfere with life) who spend a lot of time to crafting theories or speculating about what is to happen next in a galaxy far, far away. So obviously, these die-hard fans might have crafted some theories or grown attached to ideas about TLJ and the new characters and plots in the SW universe that Rian Johnson and the creative crew behind the film have effectively taken a lightsaber to.  But just because it isn’t what fans expected, does that necessarily mean it’s “bad?” Or is it just a jarring contrast between expectations and reality that sours the experience for some fans? And while that perspective is valid – and people levying criticism at the film are justified – I think it’s important to separate folks who simply didn’t like the film from people who claim TLJ is “bad” because it didn’t go the way they thought it would.

Game of Thrones is another prominent fandom that suffers from this expectations versus reality mentality, and it makes me dread the reaction to season 8, which is pretty much guaranteed to debut before GRRM releases the final book. Fans of both the show and the books have grown so invested in the character journeys and the overall story and for years have come up with countless theories about “Azor Ahai” and who will marry who and who the “valonqar” is that I cannot fathom an ending that will satisfy everyone. There will be backlash, no matter what, because folks are attached to certain pieces of speculation that, if proven false, might affect the way viewers will perceive the ending. I think there are so many theories that if none of them turn out to be true (as unlikely as that is, a good number of them are going to turn out to be nonsense) a certain strain of fan will be incredibly disappointed. But it’s the nature of the fandom beast.  I know how I want the story to end, and which pieces I want to fall into place, but even if it doesn’t go the way I’ve theorized it would, that doesn’t mean I’m going to write it off as “bad.”

The closest I’ve come to this mentality this year was when Justice League came out a couple of months ago. After the resounding success of Wonder Woman, I was all in for JL, expecting the DCEU to finally turn itself around and prove that it can produce a well-balanced, engrossing ensemble film… which didn’t exactly happen. I did make the mistake of looking at the RT score beforehand, which dampened my excitement. I still enjoyed it, and it had some compelling strengths, but my expectations definitely weren’t met; and yes, that’s disappointing. That’s not the easiest thing to stomach, as a fan who is attached to the characters and the lore. But there’s nothing else to do but accept it, appreciate the good parts, and continue to have optimism for the future.

Honestly, the more popular something becomes, the more passionate and dedicated the fanbase is, and the more disappointed fans are bound to be with the outcome of the next installment, whether it be a book or film or episode. It’s the double-edged sword of popularity and fandoms, and the intrinsic nature of the idea that “you can’t please everyone.” But “different” doesn’t have to mean a “let down,” and “unexpected” shouldn’t automatically equate with “disappointment.” Unless it’s the finale of How I Met Your Mother, because that was straight up garbage and I literally can’t even watch reruns anymore without the shadow of that disaster looming overhead.

That’s why I’m more grateful than ever that I went into The Last Jedi with virtually no expectations and no idea what to expect, because I had no preconceived notions or outside opinions of the film to color my experience while watching. I may have had some theories kicking around in my head, but I was not so attached to any particular outcome or potential theory confirmation that I was disappointed when the reality strayed from how I’d imagined it would go. I have hopes for the future of the franchise and Episode IX, a spark that will not be snuffed out, but I don’t let my hopes get so high that they will inevitably come crashing to the ground and shatter when the outcome is unexpected.

This is my last post of the year; we’ll kick off January with a new Manga Monday!

~~~~~~
If you’re in need of a new read, or need something to spend your holiday money on, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Paperback is also $9.99 on BN.com.