In Dreams... The Solitary Road: The Solitary Road Blog welcomes Morgan Braith Of I...

In Dreams... The Solitary Road: The Solitary Road Blog welcomes Morgan Braith Of I...: The Solitary Road Blog welcomes Morgan Braith       I'd like to welcome Morgan Braith today to the Solitary Road Blog. Morgan come...

The 131 Preview Review: I'm BAACCKK!! The Return of The 131 Preview Review...

The 131 Preview Review: I'm BAACCKK!! The Return of The 131 Preview Review...: THE 131 Preview Review Returns!!! So It's been quite some time since y'all have heard a peep out of me. May if I reckon my date...

Lady Amber's Reviews: Blog Tour & Giveaway: Centuries of Blood: Becoming...

Lady Amber's Reviews: Blog Tour & Giveaway: Centuries of Blood: Becoming...: Title: Centuries of Blood Author: S.I. Hayes Genre: Historical Paranormal Romance Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours Blurb: Th...

#ThrowbackThursday An Opinionated Artist Runs Her Mouth @shannonihayes 1st published Nov.2012

An Opinionated Artist Runs Her Mouth

       

        So once again I find myself in the wee hours of the morning doing anything to avoid working on my WIP. I know, I know I should be tearing up the pages and getting my ass in gear, but I just have the feeling that I need to get this one, like so many others out of me.​
       I was chatting up with a fellow author and our conversation fell into our opinions about writing, novel lengths, means of expression, all the argumentative shit. (Who knew I could be so deep!) Fortunately we agree pretty much across the spectrum. And here I was thinking that my Co-author and I were the only ones. I came to realize that the opinions we had while not popular are not a singularity.​
     As writers we are all, each and every one of us, whether published privately, independently, or still banging our heads against the target on the wall, Artists.​

7-9-11 What the numbers say... #SaturdayStunner #Faith #LackingPeopleSkills #Numerology

My Numerical Fuck Up....

so I was kinda bored and did one of those numerology charts. I know my numbers had them done a while back. LONG BACK. But every so often I wonder what the gurus are saying about them so I check... They're getting more accurate... *sigh* It figures... 

             7

                             9

                                         11

One of those days #Fuckitol #BiPolarRollercoster

I should be in the hospital. I know it. My mother is predictably suggesting it without saying it. I've been a super bitch for a while now. My meds are off, I'll figure it out. I always do. But what if I can't? What if that's the whole point. I'm not going to be over all of this. EVER.

Being Bi Polar doesn't go away.

One moment I'm happy and energetic and the next my body feels like it's falling apart. Everything hurts and I don't give  a flying fuck about anything that isn't about me. That last part is mostly true most of the time. Actually, scratch that all of the time.

I can't help it if I am my favorite subject. It's not my fault if what I hear from someone can be reasoned by me to be something that I can talk about with experience. I'm sorry for not being able to make you happy. I'm miserable so what do you expect?

There's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, there's just us chasing it on a wing And a prayer. Sure its supposed to be about the adventure.... It's supposed to be about the journey not the destination. But I'm so sick of being on this endless road to nowhere ...

32 years old, four books published. I should be ecstatic about it. A book in the second round of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest.... all GOOD things.... so why then do I wanna crawl into a deep dark ditch and pull the earth in in top?

My Dad is dying. Realistically he's been dead for 11 years, he just hasn't had the sense to actually lay down and die. The man was once my world and the epitome of what I thought men should be like. TALL, STRONG, HANDSOME. KIND, LOVING, someone who provides without smothering.  My Dad was a great man. Worked 16 hours a day, and still would pack up the car on a Saturday morning to go out to Vermont for Maple Syrup, just to have pancakes on Sunday morning.

Now... He's here, but his quality of life is moot at his own choice. He Chooses not to get out of bed. Chooses not to shower, shave, leave his room. That's a good enough reason to be angry, depressed, or just down right ready to snap.

Then there's the rest of my home life. Those who know me know the crazy that is home. If we have cash, it's awesome. But once the money dwindles.... The claws come out and it's scream and bitch time. I give and get in return don't get me wrong. My Cunty nature is well inherited, and my Mother is the master. I say this with all the love and affection I have. Which contrary to  Most Popular Belief is quite a lot. I can call her whatever I want, cuz she's mine. But I'll knock your fucking teeth in if you say it your self.

Oh I'm not having a pity party. I'm not wired that way. I don't give a shit if people get it. That's the gist of things. I've been taking a bottle of Fuckitol each day just to get through. To push every day. I had someone recently say that we appreciate things more if we have to work for them. That those that have things handed to them don't appreciate. Well it would be nice to have the chance to see it from the Have's side for a change.

 I'm going away in May. 9 days of nothing but good friends, new places and DRINKS!! Lots of them. Nothing is going to stop that. It's all paid for. I'VE FUCKING EARNED IT!!!

As excited about that as I am I'm still not nearly as excited as I Should be. I have a friend that I let ramble on, so that I don't have to think about my own shit. I'm thankful for that. I like the distraction. I need the distraction.

Up down turn around pick a bale of cotton.... Oh my Lordy pick a bale a day... Yes Ma'm I'll do as you say....

This is how I feel about my world today.... Guess I'll go and bake a cake that I won't get to eat.
 

#WriterWednesday Excerpt from Upcoming Novel Centuries of Blood: Becoming With Cover Reveal!!

Cover Reveal and Spot light For 

Centuries Of Blood: Becoming 

By S.I.Hayes

 Three men, a single heart. What's a girl to do? Especially when one of them

has fangs...

 16th Century England. A land at war. It's people fighting, dying for a king who
chases skirts and takes heads on a whim. It is a time of reformation, of love,

lust, betrayal and secrets. Catharine Morrigan Cecil is but sixteen years old as

the tale unfolds, but her soul screams to be free of Glastonbury. Named for a

child lost, she is chained to a life she doesn't want. Promised to a man whose

ways foretell an unhappy life while still in love with another who will not fight

for her.  

Left rejected, in a reach for freedom she runs. Finding a mysterious town with
an even more mysterious stranger. Alexandarious (Darious) is young, strong,

and Immortal. A Blood Devourer. Knowing his nature, Catharine Morrigan

dares to give him her heart. She has pierced him through and through, but his
people are waring and her safety is in peril. He wants and needs the beautiful

woman "Morrigan" is becoming. But his heart knows better. She deserves a full

life, one he can not give her. 

The marriage bed awaits her as the Ottoman War zone calls him. The pair

must separate to save the people to whom they are bound. While Darious fights for his Lord and Lady, Morrigan must fight for her survival at the hands of the

man she calls husband. 

Can they beat the odds, find each other once more and prove that love truly is
Eternal?

In a sick and Ranty mood....

        

I CAN'T HAVE OVER THE COUNTER!!!!!!!!!

Therefore I shall WHINE!!! 

Since you know I don't have any actual wine.... Or cheese for that matter... 

Moving on...

Things that soothe...?? WTF are those??

        So I'm sitting in my Therapist's office yesterday and we're laughing and talking like we usually do. I'm telling him about a customer that I dealt with that gave me a glimpse into what it must be like to deal with me when I'm hyper-manic, the woman was excessively talkative, fidgety and very VERY energetic. Kind of like I used to be. I had to actually tell ask this woman to take a moment to stop, and breathe.  

       I remember times like that, the funny thing is that my therapist laughed and asked me why I thought it was that I don't act like that in his office. I had to think about it a bit, and as I looked around his office it occurred to me that I'm comfortable there. His walls are adorned with paintings and drawings that appeal to him, but also to me. There's a bookcase full of books I'd like to or already have read, and on top of that bookcase is the entire toy collection of minions from Despicable Me 2, which I love!! It speaks volumes to his personality. Giving me a bit of insight in to who this man helping me with my issues is, an idea that he's human and flawed like everyone else.  He calls me out on my bullshit, my sometimes cunty behavior and helps me to enforce the better  parts of me. I think that in a different world he and I would certainly be very good friends. 

        That says a lot about me, I think. It takes me time to get comfortable with people. I'm not reclusive or introverted by nature, however. Although my circumstances and behavior over the last few years may scream differently. I used to be the life of a party, now I'm more of a wallflower, until you get me talking about something I want to talk about. 

         Anyway, I told him that I wasn't totally sure why I'm better in his office than when I'm in the real world where just about everyone who speaks pisses me off, that something about him just calms me down. Not that I'm all quiet and somber. Far from it, we laugh, joke around, I'm animated and feel safe to be so. Safe... maybe that's the whole point. I'm emotionally safe in that office, where as anywhere else I feel stunted, suffocated by other people and their bullshit. I know that perhaps that's cruel to say but I don't really give a damn about what's wrong in other peoples lives. I try to be helpful. Try to give good advice when the situation calls for it, but I don't really care if a person doesn't follow that advice. Scratch that. I do care, my advice is very often quite sound. But if you don't do what I suggested, don't at least give it a shot and them come back to me with the same shit... NOW I don't fucking care because you were too lazy or stupid or scared to even try, so why the fuck am I going to waste my time AGAIN?? 

        I'm not. 

        See this is why I don't have many people in my life who I call friends. I'm quite sure that even some of those I do call as such pretty much only stay around because I'm good for their situations. Which is fine. I'm OKAY With THAT. Really. Let's face it all relationships are formed on some basic need that has to be satiated. Family, friends, lovers, co-workers. Every relationship is symbiotic, all are to an extent parasitic. All have needs which must be fed. Some healthy, some not.

          What's my point? Do I have one. Probably. My Therapist asked me to to a bit of homework. He wan't me to find something for each of my senses which is soothing to me. So That would be Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, and Hearing...

              So let's see, I have some of it figured out, but the things which soothe me I often do not have access to. Like for sight. When I was younger and not so readily medicated I lived in Milford CT, there is this duck pond right behind city hall with a waterfall and a huge grouping of rocks that will give you access to it. I used to go there anytime shit got too real. I could sit there for hours. It was my happy safe place. It covered everything but taste. Of course I could fix taste with a run over to the local 7-11 grabbing a spicy chicken parm sandwich and a Peach Snapple, or nachos with chili and cheese with the afore mentioned Snapple.  *Snicker. That was along time ago. Since moving out of Milford I've yet to find anyplace that can serve this soothing function. Which is probably a really good reason for a lot of my dysfunction.

Now? Sight doesn't have an outlet. Music is always a good sound... Taste, well I can recreate most foods, but really I like celery and peanut butter... Smell? There's nothing like warm clean clothes or Dragon's Blood Essential oil or incense. Hands down Touch is covered by my fur babies. 

Aren't they gorgeous?? 

I don't as a general rule like to be touched by people. I'm not touchy feely. No it's not because of some long ago abuse, or dislike for pleasure. I like that kind of touching. It's just that we're not a close proximity breed in my house. 

Human touch can lie, the body lies, chemicals are released during human interaction that can make even the sanest of people go bonkers. Where as the touch of an animal, well let's face it, it's honest. Either you can or you can't and when they've had enough of you they walk away and come back later if they're in the mood.. People should be more like that.

ANYHOW!! That's my five... But what of the Sixth?? Not that other worldy EPS type shit.

              I mean the Soul. That is the sixth sense for me.  I think that the soul is something that must be soothed as well. 

               For me? The writing is a means of soothing my soul. It helps calm my mind, calm my body.  It takes an effort, a conscious decision to stop what I am doing to sit and make peace with time and actually let my mind wander and flow. Whether it's raging or miscalculating what I'm doing or rambling on without end. My Soul is soothed by the touch of fingers stroking the keys, the clickity clak of the keyboard, seeing those worlds develop in words on my screen as I smoke my Wild Horse Cigar with my cup of Dunkin' near by. And the final moment when I open the pages of my freshly printed beauty... Well seems I've got it all here after all... FML.