The Mouth Is The Window to The Soul

 

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Hello friends,

I have been a bit of an absentee blogger the last few weeks. My last post was over two weeks ago as I was headed south to my beach week on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I had just been sorted into Slytherin by the Pottermore website. My identity has recovered from that reality giving smack across the face. I have come to realize that most of my evils lie in my inability to, in fact, lie.

Fundamentally most people are full of shit, I think. I really need to hone these skills. Do you ever sit in a meeting and think – I just do not give a flying fuck about this discussion? So do I. The energy taken to keep these feelings from showing on my face is grueling. Utterly exhausting. Everyone else has a normal face on. Why can’t I bullshit up a better face?

There is a gentleman at work. I care for him dearly in the most platonic sense possible, but our world views are on the opposite sides of the universe. In this case I can usually be very tight lipped (at work and all). Unfortunately he cannot. With utmost confidence I can say that I am right about everything and he is terribly wrong. But I simply lack the ability to shut my mouth about it. I let him push me to my limit and it doesn’t take very long. Then I call bullshit on him. Loudly. Why can’t I just smile and nod like other people.

This morning I was sitting with a friend while a child nearby threw a full blow tantrum. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual atomic level explosion that is typical to a child of a certain age. There are two ways that can go. Daddy can earn my respect by removing said child from my dining vicinity while it blows over or Daddy can OFFER A FUCKING LOLLIPOP! My lovely friend simply says, “Poor thing.” “Asshole,” I say simply. Who is right?

Twitter has been a great release for me. There is no need for restraint on Twitter. It is pure, unadulterated, mouthy freedom. Follow if you don’t @ThePaigeRandall.

While I’m at it, I have to say something to all of those millions of young girls on Twitter who believe the following to be true:  1 – Adulthood sucks.  2 – True love is the goal of all living.  3 – I am nothing more than a vessel for sex.  These are fallacies, not truths.

I just walked into a bar where I worked many years ago. The uniform consisted of a low cut top and a skirt with a very high slit.  I basically looked like a prostitute. I spent endless evenings with men thinking they were buying the right to get handsy and worrying about finding my one true love. I would not go back to those miserable days for any amount of money on the planet!  Girls, know this:  Youth is over rated.  True love is the icing, not the cake and there will be a lot of icing on a lot of cakes. Be more than your sexuality. Be interesting. Be intelligent. Be funny. Selling yourself short is the worst mistake you can make.

Grow up, understand your potential, become confident, make no damn apologies, be as mouthy as you want. And move the fuck on.

The Devil Inside

Greetings to you all,

This has been a rather interesting week with some changes and a lot of reflection. Birthdays make us naturally introspective I think…

My first book, Circling started its journey to some where (we’ll hold off on that discussion). Book Two finally earned a name! Forever Falling has been resting comfortably at 36,000 words, while Circling got a last push out into the great unknown. This week Forever Falling will take center stage and be moved to the veritable front burner. I am very excited!

As I mentioned a few weeks ago in the post When Is The Forgivable, Unforgivable, my mind has been on villains a lot these last weeks.  In Forever Falling, the lines between doing what is right and what is wrong, but for the right reasons, becomes blurry. Forgiveness is the key here, but it has to be balanced with self-preservation. A few nights ago, with the encouragement of my Twitter writer companions Nate Philbrick (@Flashfloord14, flashfloodfiction.com) and Susan Kicklighter (@writing 4kix, writing4kix.tumblr.com), I signed up for a Pottermore account to let the sorting hat do its job. This is the part there non-Harry Potter fans hit the back arrow and move on – no offense taken – have a lovely day.

So – I signed up at Pottermore and followed the required sequence that allowed me into the Great Hall at Hogwarts to participate in the sorting ceremony. I took this seriously, my friends. I could have manipulated that test any way I wanted (a lesser talent of mine), but I was truthful and it was a hard test. I had concerns. I am fairly sure there aren’t many Leos in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. I figured I had a decent shot at Gryffindor. But I have a dark side that requires constant management.  Again – I had real concerns. The questions were not obvious. It wasn’t… Would you remain faithful to the Dark Lord after years of absence? Are you a Death Eater? Would you date Draco Malfoy? It was more about your thought process.

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I AM SLYTHERIN

After the horror passed and my family fell out of their chairs laughing at the obvious, I did a little research about Slytherin beyond Salazar, Tom Riddle, Malfoys, Lestranges, etc. Here is what I learned: Merlin was Slytherin. Traits = cunning, ambition, likelihood to look after their own (loyalty?), play to win mentality, powerful, oft misunderstood, keen instinct for self preservation.

“Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness.”

Bottom line, I have to own it, I am Slytherin. I am the sweet writer sitting next to you at Starbucks, but screw with my people, zombies take over the world, danger knocks at my door… I will handle it.

Which takes me back to the beginning. Villains. This unexpected Slytherin twist is giving me much more to think about. When I started asking questions about villains, I didn’t realize the villain was possibly me. Now I know more than ever, understanding villains is about understanding the capacity for dark works that lives within us all.

My birthday was this week, but it was inconvenient so I decided to move it to July 31st to share a birthday with J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter (on the beach). I feel less worthy of them than I did a few days ago, but I know that kindness does live in my heart. Just don’t fuck with me. 🙂