Give me strength…

Someone asked me this morning – Sunday – early – what I really wanted out of life. You have to arrive on my doorstop and need to know this now? Really? Before my third cup of coffee? Yes, apparently so. No, it doesn’t matter who it was other than they were insane and seemingly felt they had to prove some point to me when I really just wanted to do some writing. And to be honest I can live without points being proved to me but apparently there is some lesson I have to learn…oh hard…and on a Sunday? When I’m busy? So I said the usual things – I want an endless supply of money, chocolate and for you to nick off.

-Typically flippant answers from you Amarinda.
-Well, how about you leave me alone so I can get a couple of K done? (K = 1000 words in writer speak)

This is apparently not a serious answer either. It’s pretty bloody serious to me. And world peace, the end to starvation and man’s inhumanity to man are not acceptable answers either. Give me strength.

-Why are you here again?
-Because you like me.
-Maybe I just felt sorry for you – like some stray dog
-Whatever you choose to believe, Amarinda.

I choose to believe a great deal and I don’t want to be dealing with annoying people in my own time. I turned the question back on my interrogator.

-What do you want out of life?
-I want you to answer the question
-Ah, a man of simple, if not delusional means
-Yes – so answer the question and quit stalling.
-What does it matter?
-It matters

Well crap…I don’t like being put on the spot when it comes to deep and meaningful things. Why do people have to do that? I like to keep things to myself. Sure, I have a blog and people read it and my books - and you can glean from my scribblings the general direction my mind is headed in but you don’t need to know everything about me as I don’t need to know everything about you.

-So?
-What?
-God you’re perverse Amarinda
-And?
-You’re annoying
-Thank you, I try.

The thing is I think we need to keep some things a mystery. What do you think? Do your nearest and dearest know everything about you? Or are you open to sharing all with virtually complete strangers like Mr X who lob in on your doorstep asking questions? Did I answer his question? Nope - because I don’t want to. Will he ask again? Probably. Will he be frustrated again? Most likely. Will I annoy him? Undoubtedly. Will he bugger off and leave me alone? Definitely.


-So, I suppose you’ll be immersed in writing today
-Yep
-And you’ll probably write about this on your blog
-I wasn’t going to but now I will and hopefully you'll get the hint.
-I want to see you again, Amarinda
-Wasn’t this time enough?

Yes, why indeed would he bother? I have no idea. I’m not looking for a relationship so it’s a waste of his time. I am very clear on that .You should let people know where they stand. I’m too jaded and cynical and I like the sloppy status quo I find myself in. And, as for what I want out of life? That changes on a daily basis.

Just for you…..

….. author Cindy Spencer Pape gave in to my badgering and sent me an excerpt from her hot, brand new release – Teach Me (The Hierophant) – it’s a Torrid Tarot novel out now through Ellora’s Cave…click on the cover to buy

Teach Me – Blurb

The Hierophant generally appears in life in the form of a teacher or mentor. He’s wise but can be stubborn to the point of disaster, especially if his beliefs are called into question. Galen Forsythe believes the traditions and tenets of academia to be an almost sacred trust. So when he is hopelessly attracted to a brilliant young graduate student, he fights against it for three long years. Lydia has been in love with Galen, her Hierophant, from day one. When she’s targeted by an ancient demon determined to escape its prison, Galen has to learn to let go of logic and tradition and trust in the power of love to save her.

Teach Me- Excerpt

Galen ran his hand through the silky strands of her hair, carefully disentangling the now useless rubber band that had bound it into a tail.

A ponytail. Oh, gods, she was so young. Young enough to be his daughter! What the hell had he just done?

“You’re thinking too much.” Her voice was still soft and sweet but the wry humor he’d been so drawn to in class was back, even though her eyes were still closed.

“Lydia—I—this…” He had no earthly idea what to say.

“Don’t. Please don’t ruin this.” Her voice cracked.

Not the tears again. He could handle anything but those. If she cried again, he’d end up taking her home and locking her up in his house where no one else would ever have the chance to hurt her again. And he couldn’t, just couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

He pulled her to her feet, to stand in the vee between his legs, then he hugged her close to his chest.

“Nothing could ruin this. What just happened will always be one of the most beautiful memories of my life.”

“But?” He could tell by her sigh that she knew what was coming next and was as resigned to it as he was.

“But you know as well as I do that it can never happen again.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder. “I understand.”

“Just so you know…” He had to fight past the lump in his throat to get the rest of the words out. “What I told you about—helping you find a job, an apartment—none of that had anything at all to do with this.”

“I know that.” Her voice hitched but she soldiered on. “And for the record, if I had thought that, even for a second, then it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Okay then.” He patted her back and dropped his hands so she could step away. Neither of them made any attempt at eye contact as they righted their clothing and Lydia combed her fingers through her hair.

“Right.” She nodded her head and squared her shoulders before picking her exam paper up off his desk. She unzipped her backpack and shoved it inside. “I’ll have this in your mailbox by tomorrow morning, if that’s all right.”

Hell, like it mattered. With one word she could destroy his entire career. Not that he thought she would. “Fine.”

She turned to go, pausing with her hand on the door. “Can I say one more thing, Professor?”

He tried to laugh but the sound was shaky and hoarse. “Go ahead. But I think I’d feel a whole lot better if you called me Galen while you said it.”

Her laugh didn’t sound any too steady either. “Fair enough. Galen then. I just wanted you to know that what just happened—it wasn’t out of the blue. I’m twenty-nine, not seventeen. Old enough to know what I’m doing. I’ve been wanting you for a very long time. So—thank you.”

Anny is racing turtles for profit on www.annycook.blogspot.com/ and Kelly is painting beards on cement gnomes on www.kkirch.blogspot.com/. Also the March issue of www.emuse-zine.com/index.html is now out. What is it? You don’t know? Rush over there now and take a squiz.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?