Call Me A Nerd, But....

I had to share this picture.
Last week in DC, we rode the Metro trains everywhere!
Anyways, in one of our stations, they had these enormous escalators. I mean, bigger than any I've ever seen. The photo nerd in me wanted to take a picture, but I knew my parents would be all "you don't need a picture of an escalator" so I didn't take one. 
But I found one! So, sit here in awe at the enormous escalators.

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Book Review - Frostbite

Rose loves Dimitri, Dimitri might love Tasha, and Mason would die to be with Rose…
It's winter break at St. Vladimir's, but Rose is feeling anything but festive. A massive Strigoi attack has put the school on high alert, and now the Academy's crawling with Guardians—including Rose's hard-hitting mother, Janine Hathaway. And if handto- hand combat with her mom wasn't bad enough, Rose's tutor Dimitri has his eye on someone else, her friend Mason's got a huge crush on her, and Rose keeps getting stuck in Lissa's head while she's making out with her boyfriend, Christian! The Strigoi are closing in, and the Academy's not taking any risks….This year, St. Vlad's annual holiday ski trip is mandatory.
But the glittering winter landscape and the posh Idaho resort only create the illusion of safety. When three friends run away in an offensive move against the deadly Strigoi, Rose must join forces with Christian to rescue them. But heroism rarely comes without a price…
GAH! First off, I love, love, love, LOVE these books.
Richelle Mead has a great way of wring. She's very good and interweaving emotions and action and romance (Dimitri) and AH!
The point is, if you haven't read these books, you should. Like, right now!
I won't ramble on anymore, but the point is, you need to read this book.

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The Story of a Tragedy

With the tragedy of Norway this week, and Amy Winehouse (never been a fan, but still a sad story), I thought I'd talk about finding stories within tragedies.

Back in January, Gabrielle Giffords was hosting a "Congress on Your Corner" session.
Everyone knows why that day wasn't just a normal "Congress on Your Corner" session for Giffords.
What happened to those people is awful, the nine year-old girl, to the Arizona judge. Their families' lives will never be the same.
But, did you ever think of taking a tragedy and making into a story?
I did.
For my creative writing final, remember the story with the girl named Morgan?
Well, Morgan's story is about how she discovers her boyfriend is planning to assassinate good ole' Rick Perry.
Reality is the best source of inspiration, all you have to do is look around.

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New Site!

Well, after some nagging from Evie, I've got some news.

I opened a design service!
Yes, it does cost money, but there are people who are charge a lot more.
Hope so of you consider ordering from me!

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Washington DC

My feet are firmly on the ground. Firmly on the ground. Firmly on the ground.
I won't lie. On the way home yesterday, I cried during take-off. but I didn't last Sunday. Strange, strange, strange indeed. Anyways!
OMG! It was freaking hot there! Here in Texas, we're in the middle of a heat wave, and it followed us to DC, but it was worse there. Friday afternoon, the heat index was 118 in Washington DC. *dies* Darn river.
Anyways, I took a lot of great pictures, enjoy!


Dorthy's red slippers! (Which were silver in the book)

The White House, durr. 

Battle of Gettysburg museum. Part of that wooden fence is real, and part of it's painted. But which part is which? 

Capitol building, I got to go in it!



Cool sign I bought at some Smithsonian. 

Metro Tunnel center. We rode these things so many times. 

What should be the Reflecting Pool. They're doing major construction, so right now, there's just a little puddle, so we called it the Reflecting Puddle. :D

Cool picture of a water fountain at the FDR memorial. (Don't get me started on that one.)

The National Basilica of the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception..... I think that's the name. Basically, it's the national Catholic church, and it was gorgeous.

Mary and the baby Jesus

Mary and some pretty candles, They wanted four dollars for you to light a candle. -_-

Elephant at the National Zoological Park

The gun that killed Lincoln.

Statue of John Wilkes Booth. 

Statue of Mary Surat, the first woman executed in the United States. 

Theater box Lincoln was shot in.

Presidential road signs! 
My feet are firmly on the ground. Firmly on the ground. Firmly on the ground.
I won't lie. On the way home yesterday, I cried during take-off. but I didn't last Sunday. Strange, strange, strange indeed. Anyways!
OMG! It was freaking hot there! Here in Texas, we're in the middle of a heat wave, and it followed us to DC, but it was worse there. Friday afternoon, the heat index was 118 in Washington DC. *dies* Darn river.
Anyways, I took a lot of great pictures, and I've got some great stories to go with them.

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The Very Beginning

Bahah! What a cheezy title, right? Well, I'm coming home today! Wahoo! But, today is a special post. I was inspired by Marisa when she posted the very first chapter of her book, Dancing Through Life. Like, the original draft chapter. Click here to read her post. So, today, I bring y'all the first few chapters of the original version of The Assasin. Get ready for this...


No one really knows what happened that night, only one girl holds brief memories of that horrid night. But only being a baby, she struggles to remember.


“Please don’t do this. It’s a terrible mistake. You don’t have to do this.” Sarah begged as she walked backwards toward the wall in fear. She looked over at the crib and sighed. She knew this was going to be a horrible end for both of them. She had to save Cassie; that was the most important thing.
“Too late, it’s almost over for you.” He said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Any last words, my dear?” She observed the details of what she knew would be her last moment.
“Yes I do.” She declared straightening herself up. “If you kill me with that- that thing,” She pointed to the gun,”You’ll be creating a monster.”
            “What?” Brent asked, slightly amused. He needed to hurry; Melania and triplets were waiting in the car.
            “If you shoot me with that…that thing, she will come back to haunt you. She will kill people; she will be a better assassin than you. She will be the death of you.  You can try to kill her too, but if you shoot me, she will survive, even if you shoot her first, she will be the one to have the last laugh.” Sarah blurted out, not even believing her own crazy words.
            “That’s ridiculous. You know that?” With that he locked the trigger in place, no turning back now.   
            “There’s one last thing you need to know. The baby, she’s not-” Sarah tried to warn him.
            “Oh save it for your grave.” And with that he let the bullet fly. Sarah fell to the ground and died instantly from a head wound. Brent turned to Cassie and pulled the trigger again. He could care less about what Sarah said. He did what he needed to do in order to be with Melania that was what mattered.

Chapter 1

Brent Rossett
January 2007

San DiegoCalifornia. Yesterday marked the beginning of freedom for one man. Brent Rossett was released from jail after spending thirteen plus years there for one charge of murder for the death of his girlfriend, Sarah Marlay, and one charge of attempted murder of his daughter, Cassie Rossett. He was arrested on that night after neighbors reported fighting and gunshots.
Reasons for his release? He managed to gain an agreement with the judge and jury from his trial twelve years ago. In exchange for his freedom, he would have to track, hunt, and kill the famous Assassin. He said “I know exactly who this person is, and I will make it my sole duty to see the Assassin dead in a grave.”
Rossett was very careful to not give any hints of who the Assassin was, or what genders the infamous killer is… a puzzle even criminal investigators struggle with.
When asked how he knows who this criminal person is, he simply laughed and replied “let’s just say I helped make the Assassin the feared murderer who people fear today.” Rossett was not available for any other comments.
So what’s the first thing he will do? He will go home and probably enjoy some time with his wife, Melania Rossett, who he had married before the whole Sarah Marlay ordeal broke. Until the time is right, the Assassin will still be on the go, armed and dangerous. We all are ready and anxious for the death of the Assassin.
From the Associated Press

            “Wonderful.” I placed the paper down and sighed. What the paper didn’t mention was that I got a full year off to enjoy myself to the fullest. I had Melania over in the gym working out and life was good. I was working on a plan, and it included kidnapping the one man the Assassin couldn’t live without. Joe Dreandry: take him away; and her little girl hormones would go all over the place. She’d have to give up.
            “Brent, you do know that you have thirteen years worth of taxes and bills to pay? They’re in the closet for you.” Melania, my wife, sighed.
            “Sure. I’ll get to it later.” I closed my eyes and though to the last time I had been with Melania, without a bar in the way. It was fifteen years ago, she was only seventeen. I had just killed Sarah, she was useless anyways, and Cassie was dead; or at least I though.  I was shocked to learn that the news of the Assassin was my past coming back to haunt me.
            I had immediately made the connection. An anonymous killer that was trained and no one could find. I remembered Sarah’s words at that moment, and never really seemed to forget it.
            “Brent, wake up. They didn’t let you out of jail to sit around and day dream all day.” Melania smirked at me.
            “Ma’am, I won’t condone that type of attitude.” I loved her, but someone had to show her who was boss. She was young and wild, and free. I couldn’t stand it.
            “Well, get used to it. That’s how I act.” She threw her towel over her shoulder.
            “Excuse me?” I snapped.
            “That’s how I act. Get over it.” She hissed back.
            “This is unacceptable.”
            “What are you? Some anti-feminist freak?”
            “Maybe I am.”
            “Get out of my house then.”
            “I believe this is my house.” I retorted.
            “I don’t. Actually I know that it isn’t.” She started looking through some files.
            She handed me a letter, folded nice and neatly, and I snatched it out of her hand.
            I opened the file and was shocked to see that, in the event of me being jailed for what had been life, the government had given all of my property to Melania.
            “If you have a problem, I will call the police and have them escort you out.” She said.
            She walked out and left me with the letter and took my dignity.


Cassie Dreandry
March 2008

            “Cassie, I don’t think you understand, I just can’t go and talk to him!!!!” Mia exclaimed into the phone.
            “And why not?” I asked her. I closed the window on the computer and sighed. The article was confusing and old. From last year, that Brent Rossett guy was a nobody. Stupid Associated Press. What did they know? Brent Rossett couldn’t know my secret. Heck, he wasn’t even my father.
            “Because, the food chain, he’s a whole lot more popular than I am. He would totally tell me no!! Gosh, why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” She muttered. I stared at my desk. Sitting on the chair, was a suit, but not just any suit. It was the suit of the Assassin. The Assassin was a famed murderer, killing anyone who threatens to reveal the Assassin’s secret. The Assassin killed everyone from political leaders and everyday people. The Assassin was part of a legacy, and that legacy all began when my dad picked up the gun.
            “Cassie, are you there? We have a serious problem, like tomorrow is the spring fling dance, the last dance of our 8th grade career, and neither of us have dates.” I sat on the bed and picked up a magazine. “CASSIE!!” Mia cried in my ear.
            “Wait, what?” I cried as I tumbled off of my bed and on to the floor.
            “We need dates!!!” She said again.    
            “What for?” I asked confusingly.          
            “Because, Mercy has a date, and if she does, everyone does.”
            “But her best friend, Lorraine is going solo.  Besides, when does any of this matter to you?” Lorraine and Mercy were the two most popular girls in our        
            “Since I was given the chance to realize that we only have two months until we’re freshmen, and that’s when your place in society really counts. So we have to do something about it now.” She told me.      
            “Well do what you want; I couldn’t care less about my ‘place in society’. Besides, in ways I already have mine.” I told her.
            “Cassie, you have to go.” I heard my dad, Joe call.  Joe had adopted me in an abandoned area in Denver when I was three.
            “Okay, I’ll be down in five minutes.” I screamed back. “Hey, Mia I got to go. I’ll see you at school Monday. Bye.” I hung up the phone and got ready.


            “Here I go.” I lifted up the air vent, took a deep breath and jumped.  I landed in what looked like a laundry room; in a pile of old dirty clothes. “Ew.” I said looking at the clothes. There was beer spilled all over them. I immediately picked up the bitter smell of beer and cigarettes. “Great, now I have to leer him away from the stupid party.” I said when I walked out of the room and heard the loud pumping of rap music.
            I sighed; annoyed at the effort I would have to do to carry out my job. I pulled out a little ball from my belt. It produced a slick black cocktail dress, and I placed it on. Underneath the dress, I had my belt, which carried everything I needed to carry out the mission.
            I walked out into the party, Britney Spears blared through the speakers. I tossed my light bouncy strawberry blonde, but still red, hair. People stopped to stare, why was a 14 year-old teenager doing in a clubbing party? They’d have to ask themselves.
            “Well hello there little miss pretty. I’m Marco Brown, host of this party. How may I help you?”
            “Trust me, you’ve helped me already.” The man was drunk. I turned around, hoping he would follow me. I heard him call for me about a minute later. I turned around to see him pushing his way across the dancing crowd. I started walking towards the stairs where more people were partying. The man caught my arm and I looked at him. “Where are you going?”
            “You want to know?” I asked. I blew my bangs out of my face.
            “Go wait in there. I have a surprise for my host.” I smiled. I pointed him to a quite bedroom and he walked over. “I’ll be right back.” I shoved my way out of the people and back to the quiet simplicity of the laundry room. I changed back into my black dress and boots and climbed into the air vent. I started wandering until I passed a room where I saw Marco sitting in a room.
            “I can’t help but wonder who that girl was.” He said, almost poetically. I picked up the cover and hooked my rope to the edge. I slid down the rope. He was looking out the window. I dropped silently and closed the door. He was still drinking a beer, but suddenly appeared sober. I looked at him from behind. Wait, was I starting to feel regret? No, I don’t do regret, I though bitterly.
            “You just had to ruin it didn’t you?” I asked. I leaned against the wall and smiled coyly.
            “Who the hell are you?” He asked.
            “Oh. No cussing, that’s a bad way to end it all.”
            “End it?” He asked curiously.
            “Yeah. Because of your little raising hours and cutting pay, there are quite a few employees who think you need to pay.” I took a dagger out and showed him.
            “I know…I know that someone has some significance with those daggers.” He said. He was starting to shake in fear. He looked at the window and his facial expression was undeniable.
            “Don’t even think about it.” I said. He suddenly shoved the window open, but right in sync, I threw the dagger at him and he slumped over the window. I laughed solemnly and looked at him. “Dead as a doornail.” I laughed again, but this time satisfied. I moved him over to the bed and arranged him so it looked like a surprise attack. I picked up the beer bottle and tossed it out the window. I picked up the phone that was sitting on the night stand and dialed the infamous number.
            “Hello?” A man asked on the other end of the line. I placed the phone on the table and listened. “Hello? This is 911 operations. What is your emergency?” After that I slammed the phone back on the receiver and smiled.
            “Mission accomplished.” I said. I walked over to the window. “The Assassin strikes again!” I laughed wickedly.
            I was the one and only Assassin.

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The Stages of Querying Grief

Today, while I'm off doing touristy things, I've got the fabulous Morgan (who doesn't have a blog, even though she needs one!) with a guest post. If you've been on inkpop for a really long time, you might remember her as MIC, the author of Shadow Watchers. You guys can follow her on twitter at @Morgan_Shamy. Enjoy!

The Five Stages of Querying Grief

I can't decide if I love querying or hate it.

The highs are unbelievably high and the lows are like, in the depths of despair low. I'm not the type of writer that needs my hand held--in fact, I'm extremely motivated and confident in my work--I used to shake my head when my writing buddies would go on their emotional roller coasters of self doubt--I mean, come on! Have a little faith in yourself, right? Wrong. I didn't understand. QUERYING. It does a number on the writer's psyche. (There should be a drug all writers can take when going through the process.) There's this thing called doubt that plants itself somewhere in a back corner of the writer's mind--slowly growing until its little sprouts latch onto anything, everything it can feed off of--weaving, twisting, growing, until you feel like you're gonna--okay, er... you get the point.

Funny enough, I've actually kept a log of my emotional querying journey(which hasn't been too long) but still, it's pretty comical. I go from loving my story, thinking I have such a good shot to thinking my work is the worst thing written that's graced the face of the planet. Like, ten times a day. Times a hundred. (okay, I'm exaggerating, but you get my drift)

So I've broken up my experience into 5 different stages of querying:

1. The first HIGH. The day after I sent my first batch of queries, I get 2 full requests. And these are my thoughts: "Eeeek! I knew this would be easy! Agents are going to be knocking on my door this going to be so fun!" <----Er, how naive I was. (I've grown so much in six weeks, my mom would be proud)

2. The first form rejection off a query. DEVASTATION. How could they not want my work? Didn't they read the query? It's good! Tears.

3. More requests. RELIEF. Okay, my query is good. So are my sample pages. The first two requests weren't a fluke. I'm gonna be okay.

4. Rejection off a full. Back to devastation. (this isn't its own stage, just reiterating stage 2) <----BUT this is where I'm proud of myself. I didn't mope. I didn't cry. (too much) I got to work. I scrapped my first three chapters and rewrote them. Moving on, feeling motivated and hopeful.

5. More form rejects from query. At this point, I cease to care. INDIFFERENCE. Agents know what they're looking for, and regardless of how good my query is, if it's not what they want, it's not an insult to my writing. I like this stage. It gives me confidence and a feeling of power.

6. Another rejection off a full/partial. I'm okay. I am. I dissect the rejection letter. I read it over and over again, looking for any clues that might help me improve. I take heart in phrases like, "I expect to see you on shelves soon" and "It's extremely well written or I wouldn't have requested it"--I hold onto those words like a life line.

7. Upgrade from partial to full. BLISS! (this goes along with stage one. The ultimate HIGH) They liked my writing and story enough to want to see more! This is huge! I'm not out of my mind for trying to do this!

8. And finally, ACCEPTANCE that whatever happens will happen. Either an agent will fall in love with my work, or they won't. If not, I'll keep plugging away on my next project. Because as writers, writing isn't a choice--we have to do it. It's part of us and the truly determined will keep at it until we find that one "yes" that will take us to the next level.

Have I missed a stage? What stage are you in right now?

It's nice to finely be at the acceptance stage---I feel like I can get more done without being weighed down by the angst of worrying about refreshing my computer button every ten minutes. I'm writing not to find an agent, but to create magic on the page. And that, is what it's about for me.

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Writing Woes--Guest Post by Evie

Hey, all! 'Tis Evie here. Most of you know me, so the short intro: I am Evie. Laura is my friend. We both write. We both blog. We both blog design. And we both love elephants. That is all. :) Visit me here and here and here. Shameless promotion. Muahaha! Sorry, Laura. :D And by the way, I'm totally jealous that she's on vacation and she didn't take me with her. What is the meaning of that nonsense?!

Anyhow, today I'm going to talk about writing woes. A lot of people cover this, but it's different for everyone. All writers have things that stress them out or make them discouraged. For me, there are three that screw with me and make me not want to write.

1. I'm way too much of a perfectionist. I edit everything I read from published books to works-in-progress to the subtitles on TV. So, naturally, while I write, I think every sentence I type sucks monkey butt. This makes me extremely frustrated, and it's one of the main reasons I stopped writing at all for about eight months. Close to quitting again because of these shenanigans, but trying not to.

2. I'm one of those people who doesn't like doing things for "no reason." Sure, I like to write, but if it isn't going to do anything but sit on my computer, I'm like, "What's the point?" I know most of what I write isn't what the publishing world wants, or those piles of rejections are just -____-. It's mainly the discouragement we writers face that puts a damper in my mood.

3. Being the editor while everyone else gets published. Not gonna lie, I hate the feeling and thought of just being on the acknowledgement page. It always makes me wonder why I can edit for everyone, but can't get a foot in the door somewhere. I always think, If I'm good enough to edit for actual authors, why am I not good enough to become one? Don't get me wrong, I love to edit my friends' projects--love it, and I feel honored--but it's one of the main reasons I won't edit stuff by those I don't know too well. Gets me extremely discouraged.

Those are three of my woes that hold me back a lot. Not everyone has the same woes. For some, it's the editing stage, or development, or description, or maybe you even see a book published that's just like yours. What are some of your woes?

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D.C. Baby!

Right now, I'm on a plane. Probably biting my lips to keep from crying. I haven't been on a plane since I was four. I'm not a fan of heights. At all.*shivers*
Where am I going, you may ask? Washington D.C. Wahoo!

We're going a lot of different places!

And, we're trying to become a part of this:

The Society of The Ark and the Dove is some fancy society of descendants of people who rode over. That would be my ancestors! Apparently, it's really tiny (the boat), and we're gonna go find out how tiny it really is.
But, while I'm off being a tourist, I've got some great posts lined up for y'all from Evie and Morgan. These ladies have really written some great posts, and you'll love them just as much as I love these two gals!
So, have a great week, unless you're in Texas, then you're probably just sizzling. It was 107 Friday afternoon! Sheesh!

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Book Review - Smokin' Seventeen

Smokin' Seventeen By Janet Evanovich

Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and no one knows this better than New Jersey bounty hunter Stephanie Plum.

Dead bodies are showing up in shallow graves on the empty construction lot of Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. No one is sure who the killer is, or why the victims have been offed, but what is clear is that Stephanie’s name is on the killer’s list.
Short on time to find evidence proving the killer’s identity, Stephanie faces further complications when her family and friends decide that it’s time for her to choose between her longtime off-again-on-again boyfriend, Trenton cop Joe Morelli, and the bad boy in her life, security expert Ranger. Stephanie’s mom is encouraging Stephanie to dump them both and choose a former high school football star who’s just returned to town. Stephanie’s sidekick, Lula, is encouraging Stephanie to have a red-hot boudoir “bake-off.” And Grandma Bella, Morelli’s old-world grandmother, is encouraging Stephanie to move to a new state when she puts “the eye” on Stephanie.
With a cold-blooded killer after her, a handful of hot men, and a capture list that includes a dancing bear and a senior citizen vampire, Stephanie’s life looks like it’s about to go up in smoke.

Pages: 308
First thoughts: I really hope this one is better than the past couple have been.
Writing style: I envy Janet Evanovich's writing style. She can make these crazy scenarios up and pull them off like it happens everyday. Which, it does for Stephanie Plum. She's got great humor, but I feel like the plots have become too unbelievable.
Plot: I feel like the plots are getting too unbelievable. It used to be, Stephanie Plum destroyed cars on a regular basis, and now, when she does it's like what's new? She needs to pick a man and go back to the original formula where the whole book, Stephanie was looking for a bond jumper, not a murderer or what not.
In an interview, Evanovich called this the "sex book." She was right. But, she made it funny. That's where her humor got to come in. :D
Characters: JOE FREAKIN MORELLI! That is all I am saying. If Stephanie can't choose between him or Ranger, she can have Ranger and I will take Joe Morelli.
Overall: Despite the bad plots, she always gets me with her humor and Joe Morelli. It's a four.

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The Attack of the Polka Dots!

Aren't they pretty? Thanks super much for Evie for designing it! So, guess what guys, she's opening a design website!! And, I've seen it already, it's gorgeous! Wonderful!

Click on the button to check out her site! 

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Book Review - 1984

1984 By George Orwell

The Year 1984 has come and gone, but George Orwell's prophetic, nightmarish vision in 1949 of the world we were becoming is timelier than ever. 1984  is still the great modern class of "negative utopia" - a startlingly original and haunting novel that creates an imiaginary world that is completely convincing, from the first sentence to the last four words. No one can deny the novel's hold on the imaginations of whole generations, or the power of its admonitions - a power that seems to grow, not lessen, with the passage of time.

Pages: 326
First thoughts: This was the other book I read for summer reading, and I was looking foward to this a whole lot more than Pride and Prejudice. My friend has already read the book and gave me a brief overview of the book, since the summary doesn't actually tell you what it's about.
Writing style: I love the way Orwell set up his society with the Party and Big Brother and thoughtcrimes. The thoughtcrimes were the think that really got me. There was one part where Winston, the main character, was talking to a man who'd gone to jail for thoughtcrime. The man had been ratted on by his seven year old daughter, but he wasn't mad! Crazy, no wonder they weren't allowed to think!
Plot: Both of the books I had to read for English were basically love stories. This one was executed much better. There was an engaging plot with a society that you'd never heard of. Winston's love for Julia (his lover, duh) was forbidden  in fact, sex was basically looked upon as a chore to make the population grow. But not to them.
Characters: Winston Smith. His name was boring on purpose. You don't want anything too crazy here. In London, you want to be just a normal citizen with a normal name. How much more normal can you get besides Smith? But, Winston was a cool guy. Orwell showed him as a man struggling to obey by society's rules until Julia came around.
Overall: I really liked this book, I wish I could have read it faster so I didn't forget the details, but I had a conference this weekend, so that didn't happen. If you're looking to write dystopian fiction, this is, like, the original dystopia!


I got an Award!

He has a gift multiple gifts from God. His new album is called Neon.

That's the first single, Tomorrow. *fan girl swoon*

Go, buy, love.
Simple as that.

But, the real point of this post is because I won an award! Yipee!

So here's what ya do:
  1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you this award.
  2. Share 7 things about yourself.
  3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers who you have recently discovered and who you think are fantastic for whatever reason! (In no particular order...)
  4. Contact the bloggers you've picked and let them know about the award.

7 things:
1. I'm an undiagonosed chronic insomnia.
2. I listen to country music. And nothing else. <3
3.I've got a really big surprise coming soon. Evie is the only one that knows about it. :D
4. I'm left-handed!
5. My nickname has been Lala basically since I was born. I can't remember not being called Lala.
7. If you were paying attention, you'd realize I just skipped six! 

My computer is being slow, so I'll do the other stuff later.
Oh! Here's the post I got my award from, thanks Riv! 

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Lookie guys!

So, yesterday, Evie, and I started working on a blog design together. And, WHALA!

Click on the picture to go visit her site, and if you aren't a follower, you should be! 

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