itsjoysworld.net

If you thought my previous posts were sporadic, and non-linear in reason, I am about to blow your fucking mind. I was already in the middle of a major panic ( I will not bore you with the details. I have already dragged one person in it, and actually thrust a book on her Kindle in order for her to help me research. Love You, Appreciate You.)

Now, during this melt down I was graciously thought of for a Blog Hop by the lovely Jane Bled. While writing my answers, all of which make me sound like an disorganized moron, I got stuck on how to answer question 2.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I refuse to tell you how long I stared at this question. I would write, and delete it all, only to repeat the process. I couldn’t, and honestly still can not think of a good way to answer this question, but I am going to attempt to provide you with my own convoluted explanation. This may not make sense as I start the explanation, I am hoping at the end of this long winded explanation it will in fact have a point (this blog does not guarantee that a point will be made on any of its posts)

My answer . . .

It doesn’t. It’s not.

I am going to take you back to a literature class I had in college. We had to read the book, White Noise. Of course with any class after reading a book, a paper was assigned. Now, as you probably can tell I don’t do things the normal way. While other students were writing about the main plot points, and all other things that would make a normal paper, I decided to pull out the minute details of the story, and write about that.

I don’t remember the paper verbatim, but I started if off with my explanation on how I think things are invented. (If you are still with me, email me, and I will send you a gold star, you deserve it.) I feel that most things (not all) but most, are invented out of necessity brought on by a life experience.

A couple examples.

A person pouring something, and making a horrible mess . . . This task would go a lot easier with a funnel, and I can only assume the funnel was invented, because someone in a situation like this wanted to make their life easier.

A girlfriend assuming that her boyfriend is in some other girls house cheating on her, most likely invented the cell phone. It would make her stake out a lot easier, if she was able to call him, while sitting outside his house in her car, and watch him run out of the house. (Where the fuck are you going with this, Joy? Just wait, there is a point somewhere)

These people are not the only ones going through this type of situation. It may have some aspects that are different, but in the end they would also benefit from the invention of the funnel, or cell phone, or anything else that would make life easier if it was around. It comes down to who is going to make it. Who will take the time to actually turn an idea into reality (or which prototype works best.)

But at some point, enough people in the same situation, are going to create something to assist them, and others.

Are you getting a tiny semblance of the point? Maybe, no. Let me ramble on.

I called this the white noise effect. It is the idea that people all around the world experience the same situations. it is buzzing around in the background, and not really paid attention to, but there none the less connecting everyone with similar life situations.

Stubbing your toe, and jumping the pain away,

no toothbrush, so brushing your teeth with your finger (if I remember correctly, this happened in the book)

not being able to find an object,

or I could go even further . . . Love, Hate, Fear, Disappointment.

I pictures these common occurrences to be in a big bucket. Not everyone is going to get the same combination of situations. but they are all common experiences that most throughout the world can relate to. (This is why I feel that T.V. sitcoms are so popular, they take a common situation, and exaggerate it allowing people to connect with the characters.)

Now, branching off of that idea, I also feel people gravitate toward certain things. This is why you can find a shirt in five different colors. It is the same shirt just a different color, and people will pick which color fits them best.

This is how I look at genre’s of books.

My book is a romance, there are a fuck load of romance books out there.

They all pick out of this bucket of situations. . . misunderstanding, jealousy, fear, drama . . .  so on, and so on.

I picked out of this bucket using things that I have experienced to create Breaking Faith. Although it is a romance, but it is written in my color. I am hoping that some people out there will try my book on, and maybe it won’t clash with their hair color so they buy it, and maybe even (GASP, probably not but a girl can dream) like it. I have had a lot of doubt about this book, and the newest one is the most harsh. At this moment the fate of Breaking Faith is up in the air, and most definitely will not be released in October. I am  normally not this flaky, but for this one, it is in my best interest to take a step back and look at my options.

So, I guess to answer question number two of this Blog Hop . . .

The reason why my Rock’n’Roll romance is different from the others in my genre, is because it is written in my color.

(As much as I would like to say I was, I was not drinking while writing this post.)

I struggled with the title to this post. Every fucking time I rant, people come back and correct me, and the end result is me looking like a jackass. There are people out there that get off on correcting peoples rants. I picture them as vultures circling around the internet looking for road kill rants to devour. They will see this post, and wonder what does Joy carrion taste like?

Because I don’t rant often (my self-esteem will not allow it) Joy rants are like a delicacy, and I am currently picturing three people in particular that are putting on their bibs, and sharpening their knives ready to dive in. I decided to add rant to my title, so that way, I will have at least three readers. (BOOM)

So, awhile ago one of my writer friends (I will not name her, because I don’t know if she wants to be associated with me . . . Don’t worry, I get it, I don’t want to be associated with me either) wrote a Twitter post (not verbatim) about how she is sick of people following her, and then immediately shoving their books, Facebook pages, store for dog hats etc… down her throat. They don’t even give her foreplay before shoving it in not even worrying if she is wet (damn that was over 144 characters)

I laughed at the way she went about expressing her frustrations, but wholeheartedly agreed. It is annoying, and wearisome to have an advertisement thrust in your face as soon as you connect with a person. I get that there are different standards on the internet, than the real world.

I am hoping these people do not conduct themselves in this manner at let’s say . . . the grocery store. I have yet to come across someone in person that is like,

Hi I’m Asshole, will you please go over here and click that you like my book 

(I took liberties on the name.)

I feel people need to step back, and start thinking about conducting themselves online as they would in a real life situation.

( Yes, I can hear the wings flapping, getting ready to descend, and start picking this apart. I see you lurking about, but hold on let me finish.)

I understand that the internet allows you some form of ambiguity if you decide to use it. It also allows you to reinvent yourself completely, if you wish.

I feel there are two extremes people hover around.

The dark and mysterious person that refuses to reveal anything personal at all. (These people draw others in, because people want to know more about the mystery. They crave it, and therefore follow this dark mass around hoping to find some shred of personal information. The mysterious bad boy/girl of the internet)

Then, there is the other extreme, where a person explains where they are at all times. An open book. . .

@pleasecomestalkme is checking in at the morgue (I took liberties with the name again.)

There is nothing wrong with either, except if you are telling people where you are at all times, you might be inviting a serial killer to stab your ass. (Someone else’s observation, not mine.) The open book concept draws people in because people feel like they know you, and connect with you on a certain level.

I myself try to find a happy medium of the two. I have certain things that I keep secret for the protection of myself, but my past is an open book. I have no problem telling you what corner I was on this day. ten years ago.

Ok, back on topic. Around the same time that this twitter post was made, about having the decency of buying someone a drink before shoving their Uhm… book down a persons throat, another tweet was posted by another friend.   She posted a plea for people to stop hitting on her, and that they needed to stop mistaking Twitter for Match.com. This tweet was priceless, and I actually went so far as to make a meme with that saying on it.

Honestly, in a roundabout way this is the same problem. Most people do not go up to someone in the grocery store, and say,

Hey I think you are hot, here is a picture of my dick (is it sad that I can see this scenario happening,  more than the buy my book one?)

Creepy men stop it.

If you feel the need to hit on someone on the internet, at least get to know them first before sending the dick pic, that is burning a hole in your phone. (side note if your dick is burning, you need antibiotics)

Don’t just thrust your penis picture into the face of an unsuspecting woman, give her some foreplay first (or just don’t do it…your call) I will give you advice right now, most women find witty banter more of a turn on, than that damn burning dick pic. Try to conduct yourself with some decency, you too women.

I won’t even start on the women tonight.

I really feel bad for the decent men out there. All these thrusting dick pic’s has made women overly cautious of the male gender. Banning a poor unsuspecting man, before he can even strike up a conversation. I couldn’t tell you how many posts I have read on Facebook, about women (mostly authors) stating that they were no longer accepting friend requests from men.

Dear men sending dick pics,

You are hurting your gender. Please, for the sake of the decent men out there, please desist the phallic harassment. There are men out there, that have some form of art they have created, and they want to get it out there. (by art I am not referring to you dick pic’s with a diamond necklace hanging off of it) You are a detriment to their success, and I am sure they would kick you in the phone gallery, if they knew what you are doing to their business.

I am mainly friends with writers, and readers on social media, and most of them are women. Someone made the observation that the writing world is predominately women.  Women read, women write (it is another form of talking for us) With this mentality you would assume that women are the gender you want to connect with to get your work seen. With all these dick pic’s, and request to see our boob’s, it is creating a road block, or should I say cock block, for the male author.

I am worried that society is going to deteriorate, and the new form of finding a partner online will be . . . DICK, AND TIT PIC’S (Yeah, I totally made that website up.) I could actually see it coming into fruition. (Shake my head)

I feel like I need to give some unsolicited advice to the dick pic men of the world wide web.

I get it, you see a woman who has posted a picture that gets your little man picture worthy. Let me warn you, that selfie they posted, probably took at least 20 times to perfect. Selfies are hard work. Of course we are trying to put our best face forward (well except for me. My freaking picture is one I took in my tiny unorganized bathroom, with the plunger in the background. I honestly thought that this would deter men from sending me dick pics. It didn’t. I have a file on my computer of them. Don’t ask why I keep them, because I have no idea. I figure they are like dental records, and well I need material for my new website.)

These selfies are just pictures. They do not tell you who this person is.

Let me tell you who the person you are sending a dick pic to is. (Are you ready?)

They are a human. Human’s are genetically annoying, and imperfect. We have quirks, and weird shit that we do on a daily basis. Some chew with their mouth’s full, some talk baby talk, some say supposebly (cringe) Don’t you feel you owe it to yourself to get to know this person? Because most likely you aren’t going to like them (not always, but most of the time.) This is your most prized appendage, do some research, before snapping a pic of you thunder stick. ( I also find it funny, that you are trying to show off something, that in reality you are looking for a dark wet place to hide it. It is like a perverted hide and seek.)

Yeah, totally veered off there.   Sorry. I bet some of you are wondering what it is like to drive with me. Does she veer off into other lanes, and then swerve back? Find that shit out before adding to my file of dic pic’s. Research, research, research . . .

Yeah, not sure about this post. I will leave you with this…

(Why I say selfies are hard work: You look in the mirror, think ok I am picture worthy, and snap the thing. You look at your phone, and then back at the mirror. One of them is lying. One of them says that you are hot, the other is urging you to dial 911 because you just had a mini stroke. You take it again, and again, and again. Then finally you get one that somewhat matches the mirror, and send it off to social media.)

Alright vultures you may now descend, and please don’t forget your carrion. Thank you for flying Air Joy.

While I was driving around today, Halestorm came on the radio. Anyone who knows me, even just a little, knows that I love music. I am always singing, and blasting music around me. (I am in no way a good singer, but I don’t really care)

Halestorm, right now is my favorite band. It takes a lot to get me to change something to my favorite, and I can’t see Lzzy being knocked out anytime soon. 

Hearing Halestorm on the radio, on my ringtone, or just on my playlist, makes me happy.  

I got to see Halestorm at the Wiltern last year.  In fact, that is when my bathroom selfie that I plaster all around was taken. That night was almost a year ago, and it was the greatest night ever. 

I don’t know if you know this, but I really don’t have a lot of friends. ( I actually wrote a post, about why I love all of my internet friends. It made me sound really pathetic, so it is stuck in my drafts. Maybe one day, I will post it, because I love you internet friends.) All of the people I go anywhere with, are clients, or my family.

Now, in that select few, none of them like the same music I do. My dilemma, who was going to go with me?

I called in the one person that is always there for me. Yes, I called my mom. I took my mom to a rock show, and it fucking rocked. 

(I made sure we were there hours, before we needed to be.)

While we were waiting in line, I look over, and Lzzy and Joe walk by to go into the venue. My mind stopped. I helplessly watched them walk by, forgetting how to use my damn tongue. Nobody else noticed them, there I was in all my mute glory pointing uselessly at them. My mom having no idea what I was dragging her into, had no idea why her daughter was standing slack jaw with her finger pointing at two random people. 

When I got my wits back, they had disappeared. 😦

I started doing the patent Joy happy dance. (Yes, it is a real thing.) Now that my brain was back I excitedly started telling my mom. She was laughing at me as I explained,and I am pretty sure she patted me on the head to placate me.

The people in front of us turned around, and I started making friends. It was a dad with his three kid, and it turns out this awesome dad, was a DJ. I can’t remember where, and he was telling us that he interviewed Lzzy, and Arejay, and was going to go do the meet and greet. He had a son, that was around 16, and it was his birthday. The DJ dad told Lzzy, and she said that she would give him a hug when they did the meet and greet. (this is another reason I love Halestorm)

I was telling the kid how freaking lucky he was, as he turned bright red. The bright red kid asked if they were going to be able to go straight into the venue, or if they would have to get back in line. The dad told him that it depended on the rules of the venue, and sometimes you have to go to the end of the line. I like any person with morals told them that if they had to go back outside after the meet and greet, their spots in front of us were saved.

It was sad how shocked he looked. He said he would try and get something signed for me. They left, and I didn’t think anything of it. I just saw it as a nice gesture. They came back, and I moved down so they could get back in line. They were telling us about the meeting, and DJ dad fucking handed me a picture of the band and all of them had signed it. He even told them that they had a super fan out side named Joy. Halestorm has freaking heard of me, people. 

I was flying.

So, we get inside, and after my mom yelled at the security guard checking her purse because he smushed her Tums. (true story) I go to the restroom, the Joy happy dance may have also been a cross of the peepee dance. 

I get in line to get into the stage area, and there is my freaking mom at the guardrails. She is waiving at me, yelling “Is this ok, Sissy?”

I yell back “Fuck yeah”

Now my enthusiasm catches the lady in front of me. She turns around, and says

“This show is going to fucking rock” and puts out her hand for a high five.

I agree with her statement and high five her back.

She then puffs her chest out, to get a chest bump ( I know you think I am cool, I am not. I had to pep talk myself into performing this move. It sounded something like,

you are at a rock concert, you can fucking chest bump someone, get on that shit

 So, I do.

How do I explain what happened next . . .

Ok, do you remember those bracelets, that are straight and you slap them on your wrist, and they would wrap around?

Yeah, that happened. She held me tight, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. She then releases me, and happily skips through the crowd. 

When I reach my mom. She is leaning against the guardrail laughing. She looks at me, and asks

“Are you pregnant, am I going to be a grandma?” 

That’s my mom.

So the opening act comes on, and whatever.

Then they come onstage, and . . . Fuck they are awesome. 

My mom like most moms thinks that I am pretty. She cracks me up, and I can’t tell her that she is wrong, because well . . .I am not a teenager anymore. She keeps telling me that Joe the guitar player was staring at my boobs. I tried to explain to her that the lights make it nearly impossible to see anything at the crowd. She would not hear it.

All night it was “Sissy, he is staring at your boobs.” 

“No, mom he is not.”

It didn’t help my cause when he flicks a guitar pick, and it bounces off of my boob. You know moms, with their I told you so look, yeah totally got that look. 

No, I didn’t catch it, or the second one that bounced off the same spot.

Yeah, my mom was all over that. 

So, Arejay the drummer takes off his shirt, and my mom tells me 

“If I was twenty years younger.” It was my turn to lean on the guardrail laughing.

I got her back with “I am” 

(I need to tell you. Arejay, is happily with love with his fiance Jessie Covet’s.)

Arejay goes down the crowd, and gives everyone high fives. I have to admit that when I touched Arejay, I went total thirteen year old fan girl. Screaming, jumping the whole fucking thing, and I am not ashamed. 

I look over at my mom, and tell her that I high fived Arejay, and she tells me she did too. My mom is awesome. 

That night was fucking amazing, and I had to write about it.  \m/ \m/ 

Today I uttered three words that rocked my world. I don’t think this is going to be an interesting or fun post (I urge you to actually stop reading here.) This is more of a rambling of twaddle, or claptrap (my two new favorite words. I love words that sound nasty but aren’t. Arrector Pili is my favorite) Am I the only person that has words like this? I hope not. . .

What was I saying? Oh, yeah three words. I did actually say these out loud today, to my most mysterious friend I will call them MysteryS. I also have this obsession of giving people nicknames. It is so bad that I don’t have a real name in my contacts on my phone. I also give all of my clients nicknames. Some of them make no sense except to me, but I know people, I see them naked (some of my nicknames you would only understand if you saw my clients naked.)

Wait where was I? Oh, yeah three world rocking words. Deep breath,

I miss writing.

What were you expecting me to say? So I was rambling to MysteryS, and at one point I say

I miss writing 

I actually stopped, and let that statement hit me. Let me tell you it shook me to the core. I understand that editing, and marketing is very important. I am sure most of you are thinking that if I edited this post, I would catch all the grammatical errors, but well . . . screw you ( I just stuck my tongue out at the computer screen, because I am a grown up)

I miss my characters. I miss getting into a story, and seeing what will happen next, as it organically flows through my fingers.

In 2012 I found this website that once a month would do these writing prompts, and you had to finish the story in 500 words or less. I freaking loved the hell out of that site. I was never able to keep it under 500 words, because well I talk and write a lot. That is not the point, it was so much fun. The website started charging to see the prompts, so I stopped doing them.

I forgot all about this until last night.

I went into my dinosaur of a computer, and found the stories that I did finish, when I was able to get the prompts. They aren’t the best stories I have created, but they were my start. Reading them put a smile on my face. You could tell I was enjoying it. It was new to me, and just allowing my mind to create something was mind blowing.Those stupid little prompts made I realized how much I enjoyed writing, and also reading the other’s posts, I got to see how many different ways a story could go. Mine just like everyone else’s were unique, and it was eye opening.

People commented on some of my stories that they liked my take on the prompt.  That made me think about actually writing the story that was running around in my head. Like I said I forgot all about these until last night. I stayed up way to late getting them off of my dinosaur, and onto my laptop.

I know the editing, revamping, and marketing parts are also important. I will give them the respect that they deserve to receive in the writing process, but the writing is my absolute favorite part, and I can not wait to get back to that section.

Yeah, so this post sucked. SORRY. . .

I wrote more to this post, and erased it. It was how one client received the nickname Mr. Pretty Penis. It didn’t really go with this so I erased it. Who knows maybe I will write it another time.

I really hope nobody actually read this whole thing. It was just something I have been thinking about since I said those three words today, and wanted to get them off my chest.

I went to the fair on Sunday, and got a lot of sun. My poor shoulders are now in the process of shedding. I will admit it,and I am not ashamed, I love the fair. I almost ended up with a bunny, and a pygmy goat but JM talked me out of it (total party pooper) So there I was bunny,and goatless waking up and down this row of fried yummy goodness. I was torn on what I wanted to stop my heart. I have a bad time making choices, and everything looked sooooo good. I would get in line for one thing, notice the thing next to it,and get out of line to get into the next line. Poor JM, had to follow me while I lined hopped all the way down the alley. 

When we were walking down the midway, one of the carny’s doing the games yelled out “Hey, Batman.” of course I looked up, because…well I’m Batman. JM started laughing at me, and then pointed down at my tank top I was wearing that had Batman on it. I told him it had nothing to do with my shirt, and everything to do with the fact that he knows my true Batman identity. 

There was a rodeo going on, and even though I grew up in the country I have never been to one. How did you like it, Joy? You ask. Well I will never be able to date a cowboy. I was actually cheering for the baby cows to get away, and after getting some serious stink eye, JM finally lead me away, before they horse tied me…well, maybe  never mind. 

JM also tried to convince me to bungee-jump (JM is also known as the instigator) He almost had me talked into it, but then I pictured it and my imagination got the best of me. I couldn’t help but think of my boobs popping out of my bra, and my nipples lodging into my nostrils. It was a very vivid picture. When I explained this to JM, and I caught up to him while he walked swiftly away from me mumbling to the sky that he had to get stuck with me. We both decided that bungee-jumping probably wasn’t the best thing for me.

Now I know you are wondering what I ended up clogging my arteries with. I got a very phallus looking corndog, yep I went with the classic.  I was telling my client about this, and of course he had to go pervert man, and asks me if I put mayonnaise on my corndog (insert eye roll) I said that no I did not put mayonnaise on my corndog, and I didn’t really trust carny mayonnaise. He was still on is pervert kick, and was thinking about mayo in a very different way. He asked me what carny mayonnaise would taste like, and I answered what I thought carny mayonnaise would taste like (bad decisions, and crystal meth) Sounds right to me. 

So, next time you are at the fair and pass the big plastic jug of carny mayonnaise take a deep breath, and smell the bad decisions, and crystal meth aroma. 

Sorry this was a very random post, but I am still not thinking correctly from all the fried food, because you have to know I also got a funnel cake.

BAM

Sorry, it has been so long since I have posted, but Breaking Faith has been consuming my time. I am tentatively announcing a October release date. The cover should be done the end of this month, beginning of September.  So, be ready for a cover release party.

So, the other day I was massaging one of my clients, and listening to Pandora when the Beatles song, Yesterday came on. (Stupidly, you can start shaking your heads now) I asked if it was the Boy’s to Men song. Mind you my client is a encyclopedia of  music information, and corrected me quickly. Now normally, I am more of the classic rock, or rock persuasion so why I even knew that Boy’s to Men sang this song is beyond me. I was the weird little girl singing Pink Floyd, while my other class mates were listening to. . . honestly I don’t know, maybe Boy’s to Men, lol.

Anyway’s, I was telling my client that I am really bad at lyric’s in songs, and get corrected all the time by JM. Mostly because I sing songs at the top of my lungs, for all to hear. I have had this affliction for as long as I can remember, and JM finds it hilarious. Now of course I am going to give you examples, because I think my lyrics make more sense than some of the real ones.

New Orlean’s….. this one is JM’s favorite, and I still have a hard time with the real lyrics Who are you?  by The  Who.

I know it makes no sense, I always thought it was a song from the tourist bureau of New Orleans…

New Orlean’s oh oh New Orlean’s oh oh…Let me tell you about New Orlean’s …I really wanna go to New Orlean’s

Honestly I could sing the whole song, with my lyrics

After he stopped laughing at this one, I decided why not tell him my other famous mishearings…..

Cannonball….. Yes, I understand the name of the song is Panama, but I didn’t know that at the time and will still sing Cannonball when it comes on.

Red Hot Love….I laughed out loud when JM corrected me, and told me that it was Radar Love, and asked him if he was talking about the dude from M.A.S.H. I hate that show, my dad used to watch it all the time, and I absolutely hated it. My client told me that Radar Love makes sense if I listened to the lyrics, which I guess are about some dude who wants to go to heaven and get his dead girlfriend, who committed suicide. (I am not a good person…needed to warn you now) I told him she probably committed suicide, because she had to watch M.A.S.H reruns. My poor client didn’t even know how to respond to that one.

He put in one about in Purple Haze, excuse me while I kiss this guy. LOL

I countered back with Hold me closer Tony Danza.

Also

When I went to see Bon Jovi, I felt like a moron when I was the only one singing Shot through the heart, with a burning flame.  Oop’s

Oohhh, and I forgot Sophie Hawkins sings this song As I lay me down.. in the background she says One eyed gato. My friend used to scream at me that she was not singing about a half blind spanish cat, but I think it sounds better than whatever she thought it was.

I know I have more, and I will add to them when I think of some.

If you have any that you sing wrong, please feel free to comment, and make me feel better.

I recently had a conversation with a client, that has been on my mind ever since, and so I decided to post about it. I apologize this will be a lot of rambling, but you should be used to that by now.

While I was massaging him, we were talking about my book, and I was explaining how I love, love. I actually get upset when celebrities break-up. I want to see people in love and have it stick.  One of my favorite things to talk about in the massage room is how my client met their significant other.

During this conversation, he said.

“Do you know what I miss? I miss the beginning of a relationship.”

I answered right away, that I knew exactly what he was talking about. It is not that he wanted to cheat on his wife, but just missed the initial stage of love. I started to ramble, and explained to him that is one of the reasons why I write romance.

Everyone knows that feeling when you first meet someone that you instantly connect with. (or I at least I hope everyone has, and it doesn’t have to be someone that is good for you because I have been there also) Your heart beats a little faster, and your stomach flutters when you know you are going to talk to them.

Then there is the first kiss. (spoiler alert. Faith and Killian “Kill” do not kiss until the end of the second book.) The first kiss is one of my absolute favorite things. The anticipation when they lean in to connect their lips to yours. The seconds right before you make contact, when you are wondering what type of kiss you are about to receive.

Is he going to be gentle? a sweeping of the lips.

Is he going to be hard? The physical emotion so strong it manifests through the kiss itself

where will his hands go? gripping your hair, your shoulders, your waist, your…….

I have been told that I invest too much into the thought of the first kiss, but hey, I am me and you get what you get. Because I have such an investment for the first kiss, I made Faith and Kill wait until it was just right. I have had a couple people read the book, and they said they wanted them to kiss immediately but when I finally have them kiss my readers understand. The anticipation allows you to wonder just what is going to happen, and when it finally becomes a reality it is never what you expected. Sometimes it is awful, or uncomfortable, or the sparks that you thought you felt disappears, so to me that makes the anticipation moments before the actual act the best part.

My client and I had a very in depth conversation, on this subject. He couldn’t believe that I was such a romantic, because of my perverted sense of humor. I explained that I hide the romantic part of me, because it is also the sensitive part that can be shattered when love doesn’t conquer all. It did make me happy that I wasn’t the only one that loves the feeling of the initial love.

I am not saying that being in a commented relationship is a bad thing, because it isn’t. I also know there are people talking to their computer screens right now either saying “you have to work at keeping that feeling” or “I still have that feeling, with my significant other.” I get it, and good for you but that ability to keep the love going has to be from how strong the feelings were from the beginning. Maybe they were so strong, that you are able to recall it, almost like a muscle memory, allowing the endorphin’s to rush through your body giving you that giddy first love feeling.

I told you this would be rambling. I don’t expect anyone to actually read this whole thing. Lol

I just wanted to explain why I made Kill and Faith wait so long for their first kiss. I feel very strongly about it, and I have to say that when they finally do kiss, in my mind, it is perfect.

Ok I am going to end this now, if anyone is still reading.