How perceptive...

Ute from Germany won the contest. The prize is on its way. Once again thanks to all those that entered.

Someone told me today that I do not have a romantic bone in my body. Really? How would they know if they don’t know me? Their belief was founded on the perception that I am too direct in speech and manner. Uh huh….this blog is about perceptions…

“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception” --Aldous Huxley

What do you really know about the people around you? The people you see or speak to or email everyday? How much is based on gut feeling or past knowledge? Do you make judgments using your perceptions of what you think may be or is or do you rely on cold, hard facts? Some thoughts on perceptions…

If you have been reading Regina Carlsyle's blog of late then you know lots have been said about the perceptions that some writing associations have about e-book writers not being 'real' writers. It's all bollocks of course but what is this perception based on? Are words any less real because some one can read them on a screen instead of on paper? And what happens when the e-book goes into print as most do. Does the writer become ‘real’ then when a book has inked pages? Or are these perceptions of categorizing writers as being real or not real based on fear or envy that e-book writers are prospering and it's the old tall poppy syndrome of cutting people down?

Recently, a friend and I had words via email. It wasn’t pleasant but that happens. We called each other some unpleasant things. We have never met. We know each other through words. So how right are we in out perceptions of each other? Makes me wonder…

Ages ago on the blog I mentioned my good friend Katie loathed me on sight because when I came to sit in the next desk beside her at Promptel she thought I was a certain type of person – a suck up - because I came from another area of Promptel. She soon learned I was not. I remind her of that constantly. She tells me my evil side wasn’t showing when I first met her…ah perceptions. Maybe I hid the dark side for a reason…maybe I perceived she was a goody two shoes…

There was a case a couple of years ago where an Aboriginal woman collapsed on a bench. Everyone assumed she was drunk. She wasn’t. She had had a stroke and could not speak to ask for help. People's perceptions were she was indigenous and probably had been drinking so it was better to steer clear of her. How sad a society we have become when are perceptions endanger another person’s life.

I recently saw a TV program - early morning - anyway it was about perceptions about gay couples kissing in public. A great number of people perceived it to be 'wrong' - purely because it was the same sex…apparently kissing in public was perceived as okay but not if you were of the same sex. It surprised me because I thought we had come further than that but clearly people’s moral upbringing prevented them from perceiving two consenting adults of the same sex as acceptable.

I have a perception of myself that I cannot shake. It's built on past knowledge and experience. I used to be very overweight. I'm not now but I can't shake the fact and I still perceive myself as overweight. I have the same high level of self esteem as I did when I was overweight but I see myself as overweight because I have been conditioned to do so. Weird but that's how we educate ourselves isn’t it? Past experience…

We are always going to have perceptions of course - you have to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes to really know them don’t you? I am going to attempt to try less to think and more to listen before I jump in and judge by my perceptions. Will that work? Who knows.

Oh, and do I have a romantic bone in my body? Depends who you are and what you mean to me. I don’t romance just any bloke. I'm picky and that’s no perception.

If I make a fool of myself, who cares? I'm not frightened by anyone's perception of me.” –Angelina Jolie

Knock Three Times – released July 18 from Ellora’s Cave is based on perceptions…that only just occurred to me today…yes, forehead slap…

In a case of mistaken identity, Montgomery French thinks security expert Ballantyne Teague is the local bad boy. He turns her boring life upside down and she likes it.

Ballantyne has every intention of confessing the truth to Montie when the time is right. He has two objectives. The first is to make Montie fall hopelessly in love with him. The second is to catch the real burglar Montie thinks he is.

But Ballantyne is not the only one caught up in Montie’s life. Her ex-boyfriend has a secret that will shock her and a real bad boy lusts after her.

“I need you, chère.” Ballantyne lifted her up onto the pool table and moved in between her open legs.
“Um, I don’t sleep around.” Sex on a pool table? That wasn’t exactly sleeping around now was it? The inside of her thighs was so wet she was dripping at the thought of a complete stranger taking her on the table that still had two down payments to be made on it.
“I bet you haven’t had sex in months.” Ballantyne held her face in her hands. “You must be aching, chère.”
Montie gulped at the sexy tenderness of his tone. It was like he actually cared that she needed the physical contact to make her feel better.
“Yes.” Why lie? The man was not stupid he would be able to see the raw need in her eyes. Montie had a feeling it matched what she saw in his eyes.
“Do you want me?”
“Um…” Montie licked her lips in thought. This man was a rule breaker, an outlaw in society. He was a bad boy who made no apologies for it and yet it thrilled her to the core that he wanted her. What did that actually say about her as a person? That she had loose morals or that she was free spirited? Whatever. Surely every woman ought to have a bad boy at least once in their lives? What would one mad moment of sex hurt her? “Do you have condom?” Wild stranger sex was one thing. Safety was another.
“A smart man’s always prepared.” Ballantyne reached into his back trouser pocket, pullet out his wallet and a couple of condoms. “You just have to say no and I’ll walk away, chère.” He shoved the wallet back into his pants. He held the condoms in the open palm of his hand waited for her answer.
“No,” Montie responded in a hoarse whisper, not meaning it, as her eyes locked on his.
“Liar,” Ballantyne answered with a grin as he pushed a wisp of hair from her face with his free hand. “Try again.”
She was fooling no one. Montie wanted him.
“Um, yes I want you but what about…”
“The guy downstairs? He does not want you but I do.” He placed the condoms on the edge of the table and reached out for her once more.
“But what if he comes upstairs and sees us?” Even as she said the words, a strange thrill shot through Montie’s body. Good, boring Montie does the bad guy on the pool table while good, staid Adam is downstairs probably reading a book.

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