To stupid to live...

So, I was looking for an image to put on a book cover. Yes, I’m still self-publishing. Yes, it is worthwhile to do otherwise I wouldn’t be doing it. Anyway, I was looking on Fotalia, which had a spak out the other day which had me having a spak out at it but that’s another story, when I came across these images after I put in the search terms of female and assassin. 

 Of course I got all these images of big boobed assassin-like women pouting and stroking guns. Freudian much? But I also got what I call the too stupid to live group. Seriously? Who would use these? Holding a gun to their heads? The blonde 1970’s throwback chick with the bucket on her head looking like she’s constipated? Or the one doing the splits and holding onto a gun? How do you run away fast from the splits? Credibility factor? None.  

Maybe they’re artistic. Maybe I can’t see some deep existential meaning in them. I dunno…  

Assassin in waiting...

I read this quote when I got up this morning and it reminded me of when I was younger and people used to question why I was so quiet and what was wrong or they would make fun of it. At the time, I didn’t feel the need to explain it to these people because they didn’t know me and their opinions were irrelevant to me. I’m still quiet today. I call in my assassin it waiting mode.

Never assume that a quiet person is shy or deficient in some way just because they don’t fit into what you think is normal and acceptable in your mind. You may not be so ‘normal’ yourself. As for a quiet person having a loud mind?  I would deafen you with my thoughts.

Judgements – by all means make them but expect that you’re going to be wrong.  

The assassin...

I was at the gym doing some boxing. That means I put on my boxing gloves, smack bags around and sweat a lot. There is this man I see quite a bit. I’ll be honest. He’s not someone I’d want to come across in a dark alley as my super power of being mouthy wouldn’t save me. He walks in a restrained, if-you-look-sideways-at-me-I’ll-kill-you kind of way. He boxes with bare knuckles and kick boxes bare footed. He slams the bags so hard that I can almost hear them crying in terror. In essence, he’s a scary dude. I tend to believe he’s an assassin.

I had never heard him speak until yesterday. I was punching stuff and he walked in. He looked at me. I smiled in that please-don’t-kill-me-way-I-have-a-new-sofa-arriving-tomorrow-kind-of-way. And then he spoke. It was low and contained, as you’d expect from an assassin – and British – very, very British and quite wry. I did a double take. It was not what I expected. Oh yeah, he’s an assassin all right.