I understand that there are some lonely and bored folks out there, so I invite you to partake in my life. I have lots of activities and fun I'm willing to share with you.
First, someone could offer to do my late-night volunteer shift on Friday. You can have fun scouring the streets for crime. Since you won't get home until 3 in the morning, I will need a different volunteer to take my place at Saturday's Farmerettes' Fun Spiel. Don't worry, you don't need to know how to curl, I'll pay your entry fee, your first game is at 10 am and they'll feed you and give you a prize. If you find you like curling, you could take my place for the last two league games of the season.
I need someone who likes animals to arrange a vet appointment within the next month for annual checkups for my two dogs. Also, if you don't mind, could you take the Pom in for a grooming, please? (I'll pay all bills.)
Someone who likes toddlers could pick my grandson up from Day Care a couple of evenings in the coming weeks. Contact me, and after a criminal check, I'll give you the pertinent info.
Among my writer friends, there must be someone eager to finish my novella. We only need about 5,000 more words to wrap it up. If you don't have your own ideas on how to end it, I do have a rough outline you could work with.
If you're better at blogging than penning novels, could you cook up something short and sweet for Criminal Minds at Work? I'll give you credit.
If you like making people happy, I could do with someone to run my trivia contest. http://www.eileenschuh.com/did-you-know I'd even let you draw the winners and notify them. This would be a joyous, rewarding opportunity and might improve your feeling of self-worth.
For those with secretarily aptitude, could someone book me the best flight to Denver in October? I'm going there to promote my very first published novel, SCHRÖDINGER'S CAT at the Mile High Sci-Fi Convention.
I'll keep my nail and hair appointments, but if you're feeling a bit insane, you could sit in for me during my Psychiatrist's appointment....oh, wait. I better keep that one, but I'm willing to give up my spot next Thursday with the Urologist. I'll just buy another year's supply of Depends until I can get back on the list.
Although I want to keep my trip to Yellowknife at Easter, I could be bribed to release my tickets to the Elk Point Dinner Theater on April Fool's Day. And for a good bottle of white wine, someone could jump on my ATV and muddle through the puddles at the Ashmont Quad Rally the following weekend.
I really need someone to type up the minutes from last night's executive meeting. As a follow up, would you mind playing secretary for me at the General Meeting at the end of April? Also, if you wouldn't mind, could you research the feasibility of changing the name of our society?
If you like parties, please volunteer to cook a gluten-free birthday supper for my middle daughter on the 14th. I'll pay you extra if you clean up afterwards.
I think that about covers things (for now) until the end of April. Thanks, guys.
Eileen Schuh, Canadian writer http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Lancelot's Lady: World's Biggest Book Tour
Welcome to the world's largest virtual book tour in celebration of Cherish D'Angelo's debut romance "Lancelot's Lady."I'm honoured to have Cherish visit Magic of the Muses as one of the115+ stops on her book tour.
After reading the following intriguing glimpse into the lives of Cherish's characters, remember to leave a comment and your email address. We will automatically enter you to win some fabulous prizes!
If you have never read an ebook--this would be a great one with which to start. If you don't have an e-reader, purchase Lancelot's Lady from Amazon and you can download a free Kindle ebook reader application for your computer. (hint: ebooks are generally much cheaper than print books).
Romance Author Cherish D'Angelo Talks About First Impressions
by Cherish D'Angelo
When we meet someone for the very first time, our brain processes first impression information about that person―about their appearance, their manners, their education, their friendliness, their financial status and their social standing. It isn't right or wrong; it's just the way humans are wired. Our minds process what we see and paint the most common sense picture to determine if we are going to like them.
A device in writing that I find always intriguing is "mistaken identity" or "mistaken first impression". Having one character mistake another for someone else or mistake something about them can lead to tension, confusion and even comic relief. In my contemporary romantic suspense Lancelot's Lady, my two lead characters are thrown together by what seems to be a huge mistake, and both of them make judgment calls when they first see each other. Take a peek...
“Hey, lady! What the hell are you doing on my island?”Rhianna held her breath and clamped her eyes shut. She didn’t want to face the man whose voice simmered with fury. She was sure that he would look as ugly as he sounded.
Finally, she raised her head and forced herself to focus on the imposing man before her. She took in paint-splattered jeans that hugged well-formed thighs, a purple t-shirt covered in various spatter colors, muscular arms folded in front of an impressive chest, and thick black hair that curled at the nape of his neck.
The contours of his handsome face were chiseled as only an ethereal sculptor could, with strong lines enhanced by a dimple on his left side, the only side unmarked by streaks of paint. His nose was straight and proud, just bordering on arrogant. But it was his eyes that fascinated her. Framed by thick black lashes, they were the deepest sea-blue she had ever seen, and right at this moment, those eyes were trained on her with sniper precision.
She felt her throat constricting. Whether it was from fear or attraction, she didn’t know. But she did know one thing. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever met.
“I asked you a question!” the man demanded. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
She glared back at him. “My name is Rhianna McLeod. Who are you?”
“I’m no one important.”
Rhianna couldn’t agree more. From the looks of him, he was probably the handyman.
Yeah, Rhianna and her first impressions. All I can say is that they get her into hot water. But she isn't the only one to have a strong first impression. Check out Jonathan's...
Approaching, he surreptitiously studied her. The woman’s creased cotton pants were slightly damp at the hem. The blouse she wore, while feminine, was primly buttoned to the top. And her unmarked suitcase screamed brand new, suggesting this woman either wasn’t well-traveled or worldly, or she was and she bought a new suitcase for every trip.
Rhianna, he recalled.
She had eyes the color of jade, and right now they were flinging daggers at him.
He chuckled. She’s feisty, I’ll give her that.
Now that she was standing, he could see that her head only came as high as his chest, but she was curved in all the right places. She had long, slender legs―the kind he’d like to wrap around him.
Now where the hell did that thought come from?
“Where are you from?” he demanded.
“Miami.”
He let out a huff. “City girl.”
Conflict and sexual tension, with a small dose of humor thrown in, is my recipe for a good romance story, and adding a mistaken identity and mistaken first impressions theme only heats things up more. You know what they say about assumptions.
Lancelot's Lady ~ A Bahamas holiday from dying billionaire JT Lance, a man with a dark secret, leads palliative nurse Rhianna McLeod to Jonathan, a man with his own troubled past, and Rhianna finds herself drawn to the handsome recluse, while unbeknownst to her, someone with a horrific plan is hunting her down.
Lancelot's Lady is available in ebook edition at KoboBooks, Amazon's Kindle Store, Smashwords and other ebook retailers. Help me celebrate by picking up a copy today and "Cherish the romance..."
You can learn more about Lancelot's Lady and Cherish D'Angelo (aka Cheryl Kaye Tardif) at http://www.cherishdangelo.com/ and http://www.cherylktardif.blogspot.com/
Prizes & Giveaways: Follow Cherish from September 27 to October 10 on her Cherish the Romance Virtual Book Tour and win prizes.Leave a comment here, with email address, to be entered into the prize draws. You're guaranteed to receive at least 1 free ebook plus you'll be entered to win a Kobo ereader.
Winners will be announced after October
10th.
Eileen Schuh,Author
Schrödinger’s Cat
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Monday, September 13, 2010
You know you're a crime novelist when...
The top ten traits of a crime novelist:
10. When you don’t answer the phone because you’ve just stepped out of the shower you worry for the rest of the day that the robber who called to ensure no one was at home is going to show up on your doorstep–or in your basement.
9. When you see the flashers of a cop car behind you, you’re pretty sure they are pulling you over to ask for your help in solving a major crime
8. You are certain that at some point in your life you are going to discover human remains and it won’t be in a funeral home or a graveyard
7. You know the number for Crime Stoppers and have to resist calling in tips on what murder investigators ought to be doing. You also want to read them your list of suspects.
6. You think your novel is more exciting and more realistic than that "other author’s" True Crime books.
5. You vehemently deny that you ever wanted a ‘real’ career in law enforcement. And you lock all your doors and are in bed by 10:00 pm–unless you are in the middle of writing an exciting scene. In which case you go to bed two hours before your alarm goes off.
4. You believe you would be a good candidate for the next Commander in Chief of the RCMP and are a bit disappointed when no one calls.
3. You believe that cops are simply engaging in an grand conspiracy of denial when they say real-life policing is not nearly as exciting as it is on TV.
2. The lady crossing the street in a wheelchair looks suspicious to you.
AND...the top trait of a Crime novelist:
You think publishers are rejecting your manuscripts because they are afraid either the police or organized crime will come after them if they print your novels
Eileen Schuh
Author "Schrodinger's Cat"
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
10. When you don’t answer the phone because you’ve just stepped out of the shower you worry for the rest of the day that the robber who called to ensure no one was at home is going to show up on your doorstep–or in your basement.
9. When you see the flashers of a cop car behind you, you’re pretty sure they are pulling you over to ask for your help in solving a major crime
8. You are certain that at some point in your life you are going to discover human remains and it won’t be in a funeral home or a graveyard
7. You know the number for Crime Stoppers and have to resist calling in tips on what murder investigators ought to be doing. You also want to read them your list of suspects.
6. You think your novel is more exciting and more realistic than that "other author’s" True Crime books.
5. You vehemently deny that you ever wanted a ‘real’ career in law enforcement. And you lock all your doors and are in bed by 10:00 pm–unless you are in the middle of writing an exciting scene. In which case you go to bed two hours before your alarm goes off.
4. You believe you would be a good candidate for the next Commander in Chief of the RCMP and are a bit disappointed when no one calls.
3. You believe that cops are simply engaging in an grand conspiracy of denial when they say real-life policing is not nearly as exciting as it is on TV.
2. The lady crossing the street in a wheelchair looks suspicious to you.
AND...the top trait of a Crime novelist:
You think publishers are rejecting your manuscripts because they are afraid either the police or organized crime will come after them if they print your novels
Eileen Schuh
Author "Schrodinger's Cat"
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Watch your language, young lady!
WARNING: Adult content, adult situations, vulgar language, immorality. Full frontal nudity. Reader discretion is advised.
“We got a fuck of a long way to go to make this thing with Allison Montgomery work,” Shrug offered.
“The language!” Kindle half-heartedly scolded. Shrug hoped his boss never gave up trying to reform him. Kindle’s chastising was the only thing reminding Shrug that he’d once been a gentleman and ought to regain that lost stature. Besides--Shrug tilted his head and stared across at Kindle--he didn’t want to have to think up a new way to annoy his boss.
Shrug cleared his throat. “We “have” a fuck of a long way to go to make this thing work.”
“I was referring to your choice of words, not the grammar,” Kindle muttered.
“Oh.” Shrug tapped his toes on the underside of the Sarge’s desk, a habit that he knew irked Kindle. He tapped his toes again. With so little gleeful happening in his life, antagonizing his old school mate was his most pleasant pastime.
The Sergeant sighed in resignation. “What is it you’re trying to tell me?”
*excerpt from “Noraebang”, copyright by Eileen Schuh
When the young adults in my life start ‘f’ing away on Facebook, or otherwise using the vulgar or blasphemous for no particular reason, I’m the first one to hop in with a comment. “Watch your language, Young Lady!” I’ve more than once chastised, “Sonny Boy, time for bed! You’re makin’ yer Granny blush!”
So where does the writer, the reader, the editor, the publisher, the law—draw the line on abusive, vulgar, hateful, profane language? Just how much freedom does the powerful pen possess?
One critic of my adult novel, Noraebang, drew the line—not at the ‘f’ word--but at God Damned and Jesus Christ, as she believed I was coming uncomfortably close to committing an unforgiveable sin by using her God’s name in vain. She suggested I try Mohammed dammit instead.
But just what is “God’s name?” And what is “in vain”? Although “Jesus” may well have been our Saviour’s first name, “Christ” was/is a title, not his surname. Likewise, when Moses complained to the Creator that all the other gods of that era possessed names and identities, God reportedly refused to provide Moses a name, simply saying “I am that I am, or "I-shall-be that I-shall-be." (Exodus 3:14). Leading to the obvious question, is it even possible to use a nameless god’s name in vain? [Ironically, later generations translated His response ‘I am that I am” into the name “Jehovah”]
Is asking God to damn something or someone, using his name in vain? Or is it a recognition of His power? The thought of asking Mars to damn my computer (or, at times, my Pomeranian) gives me shivers—Mars doesn’t have the power to condemn anything or anyone to the eternal flames of hell and I hesitate to insinuate that he does.
Why does one say, Jesus Christ? If the phone rings just as I open the fridge and the butter falls out and splashes across the floor and I slip on it as I reach for the receiver, I believe my “Jesus Christ” is a plea for help--somewhat like Jesus’ cry from the cross: “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Of course, my cry arises from much less dire circumstances, for sure.)
Yes, profanity of all degrees is powerful and emotionally laden. And we tend not respect those who use it. Sometimes I don’t want readers to respect my characters, or rather, my characters don’t want anyone to respect them--only fear them. When Gator, the leader of The Traz Biker Gang calls 13-year-old Katrina a ‘fucking cunt’, he really doesn’t care what writers, readers, or editors feel about that language. And if I were to alter his words to read, “Katrina, you’re just a fricken Pandora’s Box”—Gator becomes someone other than the Gator that I know—perhaps someone more likeable.
I don’t want my drug-dealing, murderous, mad, and brutal bikers to be at all likeable. That’s one of the underlying themes of my Back Tracker series—society’s admiration of, fascination with, love and respect for these gangsters that grind their groins against Harleys, is badly misplaced.
If my bikers were from Quebec, they might clench their teeth and spit out “Tabernacle!” A British gangster might very well mutter, “Bloody, ‘ell!” However, my bikers are from Alberta, land of the rig-pigging, oil-patching, truck-driving, construction-workin’ Red Neck. So my bikers say, “Fuck” and “Jesus Christ” It’s not at all nice, but if we want to hear their stories, we’re going to have to look past their language to glimpse their evil little hearts and tiny vulgar minds.
If Christians feel comfortable reading the Bible stories about Lot offering up his daughters to the angry men outside his door; and about Judas betraying Christ, Peter denying Him, and the mob torturing and crucifying Him, they can likely learn to feel comfortable reading about someone whose main sin is cussing.
My Back Tracker series of novels and the parallel novel, Noraebang, are stories of lost and hurting souls trying to find peace. They are the stories of the abused, the downtrodden, the traumatised. The brutal and the beaten. They speak the language of the street and if we deny these characters their voice, we will never hear their troubled stories of pain and redemption. We will never understand them or their real-life counterparts.
Let’s be careful how we censor and/or censure our writers and characters. Legally, we must not use the power of the pen to incite hatred toward identifiable groups, must not libel, defame, or slander. Must not dramatize the mind and emotions of a pedophile. All these prohibitions are debatable—their results far-reaching—including the prohibition against written child porn. I, along with millions of other victims of child abuse, will never understand the heart, mind, soul, motives, and desires of my abuser because of this censorship. By shrouding the pedophile’s acts, mind, and emotions in silence, we are blinding ourselves--unable to spot the pedophile in our midst, unable to prevent him from inflicting pain. Perhaps this silence increases society’s risk of creating adults prone to pedophilia. It undoubtedly frustrates our attempt to educate the vulnerable and understand the victim.
Likewise, by silencing the stories of those whose language we find offensive, whose actions contravene our perception of morality we may be doing humanity a disservice.
I ask you, is my character’s language, my language? His transgressions, mine? Have I sinned by transcribing the voice of the wicked? Will the reader need redemption for vicariously experiencing the fictional transgressions of a mad man?
Back to Shrug and Sergeant Kindle--it is not only words that we must watch. Although Kindle may say otherwise, grammar is just as important as word choice. Rules of grammar ensure the meaning of our words are clear across many dialects. Don’t find yourself being both misunderstood and rejected because of poor sentence structure, like the manager who was tasked with cutting the company’s expenses to survive the recession. He did all he could, but it boiled down to the fact he had to let one of his staff go. It was a tossup between Mary and Jack—both of who were good workers and neither of which had seniority. He decided that the first one to visit the water cooler the next day would be the one to get axed.
Mary came in first, suffering the effects of party the night before and headed straight to the cooler.
“Mary,” the manager said hesitantly. “I’ve never done this before. But I have to either lay you or Jack off.”
“I’d rather you didn’t lay me,” she said. “I feel like shit this morning.”
Hey, Young Lady, watch your language!
For an upbeat and utterly clean video clip on this topic, check this YouTube link. Thanks to my cousin, Barbara, for bringing it to my attention:
http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DTm0LnZOf_O0%26feature%3Drelated&h=e3642990df0a614aca72d39eb715674e
p.s. for those seeking it, and for me to avoid being sued for advertising something I didn’t offer, or being castigated for "online lying," here it is:
Full Frontal Nudity
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com
“We got a fuck of a long way to go to make this thing with Allison Montgomery work,” Shrug offered.
“The language!” Kindle half-heartedly scolded. Shrug hoped his boss never gave up trying to reform him. Kindle’s chastising was the only thing reminding Shrug that he’d once been a gentleman and ought to regain that lost stature. Besides--Shrug tilted his head and stared across at Kindle--he didn’t want to have to think up a new way to annoy his boss.
Shrug cleared his throat. “We “have” a fuck of a long way to go to make this thing work.”
“I was referring to your choice of words, not the grammar,” Kindle muttered.
“Oh.” Shrug tapped his toes on the underside of the Sarge’s desk, a habit that he knew irked Kindle. He tapped his toes again. With so little gleeful happening in his life, antagonizing his old school mate was his most pleasant pastime.
The Sergeant sighed in resignation. “What is it you’re trying to tell me?”
*excerpt from “Noraebang”, copyright by Eileen Schuh
When the young adults in my life start ‘f’ing away on Facebook, or otherwise using the vulgar or blasphemous for no particular reason, I’m the first one to hop in with a comment. “Watch your language, Young Lady!” I’ve more than once chastised, “Sonny Boy, time for bed! You’re makin’ yer Granny blush!”
So where does the writer, the reader, the editor, the publisher, the law—draw the line on abusive, vulgar, hateful, profane language? Just how much freedom does the powerful pen possess?
One critic of my adult novel, Noraebang, drew the line—not at the ‘f’ word--but at God Damned and Jesus Christ, as she believed I was coming uncomfortably close to committing an unforgiveable sin by using her God’s name in vain. She suggested I try Mohammed dammit instead.
But just what is “God’s name?” And what is “in vain”? Although “Jesus” may well have been our Saviour’s first name, “Christ” was/is a title, not his surname. Likewise, when Moses complained to the Creator that all the other gods of that era possessed names and identities, God reportedly refused to provide Moses a name, simply saying “I am that I am, or "I-shall-be that I-shall-be." (Exodus 3:14). Leading to the obvious question, is it even possible to use a nameless god’s name in vain? [Ironically, later generations translated His response ‘I am that I am” into the name “Jehovah”]
Is asking God to damn something or someone, using his name in vain? Or is it a recognition of His power? The thought of asking Mars to damn my computer (or, at times, my Pomeranian) gives me shivers—Mars doesn’t have the power to condemn anything or anyone to the eternal flames of hell and I hesitate to insinuate that he does.
Why does one say, Jesus Christ? If the phone rings just as I open the fridge and the butter falls out and splashes across the floor and I slip on it as I reach for the receiver, I believe my “Jesus Christ” is a plea for help--somewhat like Jesus’ cry from the cross: “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Of course, my cry arises from much less dire circumstances, for sure.)
Yes, profanity of all degrees is powerful and emotionally laden. And we tend not respect those who use it. Sometimes I don’t want readers to respect my characters, or rather, my characters don’t want anyone to respect them--only fear them. When Gator, the leader of The Traz Biker Gang calls 13-year-old Katrina a ‘fucking cunt’, he really doesn’t care what writers, readers, or editors feel about that language. And if I were to alter his words to read, “Katrina, you’re just a fricken Pandora’s Box”—Gator becomes someone other than the Gator that I know—perhaps someone more likeable.
I don’t want my drug-dealing, murderous, mad, and brutal bikers to be at all likeable. That’s one of the underlying themes of my Back Tracker series—society’s admiration of, fascination with, love and respect for these gangsters that grind their groins against Harleys, is badly misplaced.
If my bikers were from Quebec, they might clench their teeth and spit out “Tabernacle!” A British gangster might very well mutter, “Bloody, ‘ell!” However, my bikers are from Alberta, land of the rig-pigging, oil-patching, truck-driving, construction-workin’ Red Neck. So my bikers say, “Fuck” and “Jesus Christ” It’s not at all nice, but if we want to hear their stories, we’re going to have to look past their language to glimpse their evil little hearts and tiny vulgar minds.
If Christians feel comfortable reading the Bible stories about Lot offering up his daughters to the angry men outside his door; and about Judas betraying Christ, Peter denying Him, and the mob torturing and crucifying Him, they can likely learn to feel comfortable reading about someone whose main sin is cussing.
My Back Tracker series of novels and the parallel novel, Noraebang, are stories of lost and hurting souls trying to find peace. They are the stories of the abused, the downtrodden, the traumatised. The brutal and the beaten. They speak the language of the street and if we deny these characters their voice, we will never hear their troubled stories of pain and redemption. We will never understand them or their real-life counterparts.
Let’s be careful how we censor and/or censure our writers and characters. Legally, we must not use the power of the pen to incite hatred toward identifiable groups, must not libel, defame, or slander. Must not dramatize the mind and emotions of a pedophile. All these prohibitions are debatable—their results far-reaching—including the prohibition against written child porn. I, along with millions of other victims of child abuse, will never understand the heart, mind, soul, motives, and desires of my abuser because of this censorship. By shrouding the pedophile’s acts, mind, and emotions in silence, we are blinding ourselves--unable to spot the pedophile in our midst, unable to prevent him from inflicting pain. Perhaps this silence increases society’s risk of creating adults prone to pedophilia. It undoubtedly frustrates our attempt to educate the vulnerable and understand the victim.
Likewise, by silencing the stories of those whose language we find offensive, whose actions contravene our perception of morality we may be doing humanity a disservice.
I ask you, is my character’s language, my language? His transgressions, mine? Have I sinned by transcribing the voice of the wicked? Will the reader need redemption for vicariously experiencing the fictional transgressions of a mad man?
Back to Shrug and Sergeant Kindle--it is not only words that we must watch. Although Kindle may say otherwise, grammar is just as important as word choice. Rules of grammar ensure the meaning of our words are clear across many dialects. Don’t find yourself being both misunderstood and rejected because of poor sentence structure, like the manager who was tasked with cutting the company’s expenses to survive the recession. He did all he could, but it boiled down to the fact he had to let one of his staff go. It was a tossup between Mary and Jack—both of who were good workers and neither of which had seniority. He decided that the first one to visit the water cooler the next day would be the one to get axed.
Mary came in first, suffering the effects of party the night before and headed straight to the cooler.
“Mary,” the manager said hesitantly. “I’ve never done this before. But I have to either lay you or Jack off.”
“I’d rather you didn’t lay me,” she said. “I feel like shit this morning.”
Hey, Young Lady, watch your language!
For an upbeat and utterly clean video clip on this topic, check this YouTube link. Thanks to my cousin, Barbara, for bringing it to my attention:
http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DTm0LnZOf_O0%26feature%3Drelated&h=e3642990df0a614aca72d39eb715674e
p.s. for those seeking it, and for me to avoid being sued for advertising something I didn’t offer, or being castigated for "online lying," here it is:
Full Frontal Nudity
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Day 36: Suck it up, Princess
I received an email about my last post, suggesting I shouldn't minimize my fight to quit smoking. Although others in the world may be facing greater and more painful challenges, addictions are a very serious issue for individuals and for society.
I have to agree. In fact, the woman who inspired me by working through the grief of losing her grandson to a drunk driver, was quite likely the victim of someone with an addiction--alcohol addiction. Addictions are the evil behind many criminal acts. [They have a prominent role in my crime novels which are previewed on my website: http://www.eileenschuh.com]
I did not intend last week's blog to minimize my addiction, my pain, or my efforts to quit. I believe, though, that I was attributing entirely too many words and exclamation marks to my weeping and moaning. I chose to start smoking and I chose to quit smoking. Lots of people, like the grandmother in my last blog, are hurting through no choice of their own.
So, what I was trying to say to myself was, "Suck it up, Princess!"
Although encouraging people to talk about their pains and problems is touted as a great stress reliever, studies have shown otherwise. During conversations about trauma, people react emotionally and physically as if they were actually experiencing the events. The moral? Sometimes it's best and healthiest to leave things be and move on--think about other things, other people, sunnier times, brighter futures.
To this end, I will briefly inform you--the cravings are much less frequent and less intense. My candy consumption is decreasing. And my husband has announced he is joining me in 'butting out' for keeps.
On a lighter note, I asked for tidbits of humour on Facebook and Twitter and promised I'd post on my blog the joke that made me laugh the most.
Thanks to Shevi Arnold for the following giggle: "Would everyone who believes in telekinesis, please raise my hand."
And, equally humorous, thanks to my cousin, Maureen, for the following laughs:
My face in the mirror isn't wrinkled or drawn.
My house isn't dirty, the cobwebs are gone.
My garden looks lovely and so does my lawn.
I think I might never, put my glasses back on!
A librarian admitted to hospital for surgery got this card from her associates: "If they take anything out make sure they sign for it!"
Funny Definitions:
BEAUTY PARLOR: a place where women curl up and dye
CHICKENS: the only creatures you eat before they are born and after they die.
EGOTIST: Someone who is usually me-deep in conversation.
TOOTHACHE: the pain that drives you to extraction!
Thanks, guys, for making me laugh!
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
I have to agree. In fact, the woman who inspired me by working through the grief of losing her grandson to a drunk driver, was quite likely the victim of someone with an addiction--alcohol addiction. Addictions are the evil behind many criminal acts. [They have a prominent role in my crime novels which are previewed on my website: http://www.eileenschuh.com]
I did not intend last week's blog to minimize my addiction, my pain, or my efforts to quit. I believe, though, that I was attributing entirely too many words and exclamation marks to my weeping and moaning. I chose to start smoking and I chose to quit smoking. Lots of people, like the grandmother in my last blog, are hurting through no choice of their own.
So, what I was trying to say to myself was, "Suck it up, Princess!"
Although encouraging people to talk about their pains and problems is touted as a great stress reliever, studies have shown otherwise. During conversations about trauma, people react emotionally and physically as if they were actually experiencing the events. The moral? Sometimes it's best and healthiest to leave things be and move on--think about other things, other people, sunnier times, brighter futures.
To this end, I will briefly inform you--the cravings are much less frequent and less intense. My candy consumption is decreasing. And my husband has announced he is joining me in 'butting out' for keeps.
On a lighter note, I asked for tidbits of humour on Facebook and Twitter and promised I'd post on my blog the joke that made me laugh the most.
Thanks to Shevi Arnold for the following giggle: "Would everyone who believes in telekinesis, please raise my hand."
And, equally humorous, thanks to my cousin, Maureen, for the following laughs:
My face in the mirror isn't wrinkled or drawn.
My house isn't dirty, the cobwebs are gone.
My garden looks lovely and so does my lawn.
I think I might never, put my glasses back on!
A librarian admitted to hospital for surgery got this card from her associates: "If they take anything out make sure they sign for it!"
Funny Definitions:
BEAUTY PARLOR: a place where women curl up and dye
CHICKENS: the only creatures you eat before they are born and after they die.
EGOTIST: Someone who is usually me-deep in conversation.
TOOTHACHE: the pain that drives you to extraction!
Thanks, guys, for making me laugh!
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Friday, July 17, 2009
I'll give you a giggle
A mad scientist made a clone of himself, but something went terribly wrong in the process. All the clone would do is stand in the upstairs window and shout vulgarities at people passing by. Nothing the scientist did had any effect on the clone’s persistent rude behaviour.
It caused the scientist great embarrassment because the clone looked just like him, and people mistakenly thought it was the scientist giving them the rude gestures. One day, frustrated beyond measure, the scientist pushed the clone out the window.
Seconds later the police arrived and arrested the scientist.
Charged him with making an obscene clone fall. . . .
(Is that a collective groan I hear resonating through cyberspace?)
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com
It caused the scientist great embarrassment because the clone looked just like him, and people mistakenly thought it was the scientist giving them the rude gestures. One day, frustrated beyond measure, the scientist pushed the clone out the window.
Seconds later the police arrived and arrested the scientist.
Charged him with making an obscene clone fall. . . .
(Is that a collective groan I hear resonating through cyberspace?)
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com
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