Yup, I'm sick again. This is my sixth round of antibiotics this year. I've counted. And it's only April. Of course, they haven't all been for infections, some have been preventive, but
six nonetheless.
So this is what my day's looked like:
Yup, that's pretty much my day.
So now I'm bored. And I haven't blogged in quite a while. So...here goes:
First off, let's start with my current read.
I've begun reading quite a bit with my Kindle. In fact, I've read so much that I've decided to simply read whatever the rage is. This isn't to say that I'll enjoy it. I'm a self-admitted literary snob (four years of reading legitimate literature will do that to you), but I've been known to indulge in a guilty pleasure every now and then.
When my issue of Entertainment Weekly came in, I was surprised to find that it was a literary edition-one of two editions, actually, the first highlighting The Hunger Games (I finished it; it was not excellent writing, to be certain but it wasn't as bad as the Twilight Series--after all, what could be?) and the second highlighting Fifty Shades of Grey. I didn't read the article. (As an aside, I have read, altogether, one issue of Entertainment Weekly and this wasn't it.) But the inside of the cover said Fifty Shades of Grey is the book "everyone" is buzzing about. Okay, I thought, I'll bite.
A friend shared it with me electronically (she had not read it, either), and I started on it this week.
Whoa. This book should have come with a warning! It's all BMSM! "Mommy porn," they call it. Again, having skipped any recommendation, synopsis, etc. I had no clue what I was getting into. Porn it is. Hard core porn. Literary porn. The kind of porn that would make the editors at Hustler blush.
Ahhh, the word blush. Over and over. And over.
And the phrase "inner goddess." Over and over. And over.
And the "heroine" biting that damned bottom lip. Over and over. And over.
This book isn't just dark writing, twisted writing, it's terrible writing.
I can understand that the subject matter may be the type that creates a stir, but erotic literature isn't new to the scene, and this certainly isn't good writing. I can honestly say I have never read erotic literature before, therefore I don't have a gauge of comparison, so perhaps this is simply more graphic? And that's creating the "buzz"? I'm not sure. What I do know is this: I feel cheated. I can tell you that at the moment I read the phrase "anal fisting" I had to stop and ask myself if this is the direction I intended to go in my literary pursuits. And it isn't, of course.
There must be a slew of sexually unsatisfied Moms out there. Thinking, somehow, that reading porn
must be more acceptable than watching it. I'm not condemning either. But it could at least be
good dark/twisted writing, particularly to have such a following.
("He's about as good for me as cotton candy is nutritious" Oi!)
Once I got about half way through the book, I decided to look up some reviews online and I was surprised to see how many people absolutely love the series. Love it! Surely, there is no way! Maybe I am not gauging it as I should: Wouldn't comparing E L James to Faulkner be the same as comparing Shindler's List to Shindler's Fist? (I admit, I did google that. There is an
epic list of porn parodies, evidently--very funny stuff.) And their goals are entirely different. Which is fine. But if this-Mommy porn-is going to be the new rage, it's going to need a new category created for it, and it's going to need to be tagged as such. Not simply as "fiction."
Speaking of unreliable ratings (I must remember that I am not the average person, and reviews are created for the average person), I almost forewent the movie pictured above (Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close) because it received less-than-stellar ratings on IMB and Rotten Tomatoes. I thought a nap might do me more good. But in watching the first few minutes (and in knowing Sandra Bullock and Tom Hanks (both of whom I regard highly) star in it), I decided to go ahead and watch it through. I am so glad I did! I hadn't heard much about the movie (heck, I don't hear much about any movie--or book, evidently), but it was incredibly moving. I was touched, deeply. I do think it was sad and deep and dark--another post 9/11 drama--and I'm sure my disposition required something more light-hearted, but I enjoyed it and I highly recommend it. Here's
the trailer if you don't want to find yourself in the fifty-shades-position (pardon the pun) I mentioned earlier.
Lemme see what else?
Daddy 2.0 bought me a riding mower and I have now mowed my first lawn. In my first home.[does happy dance] Cutting the yard was quite meditative. We'll see if I feel the same when the temps hit 100+ degrees.
Mom planted flowers...still don't have a garden or flower bed, per say, but I got them free from others' gardens and we needed to get 'em in the ground, so it's a start.
Tommy got a new boat (not brand new, but new to us) and it's ah-mazing. We've been on it half a dozen times already and I am a sun-tanned goddess (thank you, Cherokee complexion) Kiera's already planned her 15th birthday down in/on Moon Lake with a day on the water.
And speaking of kiddo, her braces could be off in as little as a month. Stoked doesn't even begin to cover it. I've begun creating a goodie for her, although I'm not gonna post about it til I give it to her on the off chance that she will read my blog (finally) at the most inopportune time.
I'm bored again.
Now to find something else to do (cleaning this filthy house would be a great start).
And Mom's bringing a pot of her beloved potato soup over. It's nice to be taken care of, even as an adult.
Happy day, y'all. :)