tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63453686363257485872024-03-13T21:47:36.464-07:00Lady K's blogLady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-33220108181680684822010-09-21T09:03:00.000-07:002010-09-21T10:29:18.571-07:00Drama America!<p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I’m sick and tired of all the American drama. Don’t get me wrong I used to be one of america’s fans, loving everything American from movies to songs to books and I still do. But the thing I started noticing lately is that the United States is a selfish country. They only think for themselves and do whatever is best for them.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I’m a muslim. A very proud one. And this whole drama the Americans make about muslims just made me realize how close minded and ignorant they are. Of course after 9/11 is a terrible thing that was done and the people responsible for it are heartless and close minded. Normal reaction: Americans were scared and traumatized. Having bombs dropping in your neighborhood or city is not an everyday life incident, but that doesn’t give them the right to be so damn dramatic about it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">If they do just a little bit of research they can see how Palestinians are still being slaughtered by Israel military everyday for more than 50 years now. You know what scratch that –not because the Palestinian dilemma is not important but because Americans can’t seem to understand or sympathize with it- . Just look to other bomb attacks that were claimed by Al Qaeda in other countries during the past years; 5/16 in Morocco, Casablanca; two attacks in Mauritania over the last two years; 7/7 in London and other attacks in many other countries. Everyone is terribly terrified, everyone has lost someone and everyone wants to move on. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">A long time ago there were Jews and black people suffering from discrimination and intolerance and not until later that the world in general and the Americans in particular understood that they’re normal people, with normal needs and feelings, and with humany brains. And now it’s the Muslims turn to suffer from the same thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Those people keep forgetting that Muslims are firstly human beings; they have rights and dignity. Religion is a choice, is a way of living and not a plan to destroy the world. And Islam like all other religions seeks love and peace in the world. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I read an article a while ago named <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/06/us/06muslims.html">“American Muslims ask, will we ever belong?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></a>From the name you can understand what’s it about. It broke my heart when I saw the title, because in this whole dilemma we forget about the people themselves and their sufferings. Yes they are muslims but they are Americans first. They were born there, it’s their country and their home too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Imagine yourself being mocked and discriminated against in your own country for something that you didn’t do or for some beliefs that you have the right to have. It’s like being a homeless stranger in your own home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I’m not generalizing here, I know there are a lot of Americans that support Islam and Muslims and I’m glad that they try to give a voice to this issue and speak the truth of it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">One of my favorite filmmakers and authors is <a href="http://www.michaelmoore.com/">Michael Moore</a>. I’ve seen many of his documentaries: Sicko, Bowling for columbine and others, and read a lot of his articles. He is one of the people who support Muslims and deal with them as humans and not as dangerous entities. I highly respect this man for his constant honesty and straightforwardness in all issues that he tackled along the years.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Another great Muslims supporter, is <a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/top/opinion/editorialsandoped/oped/columnists/nicholasdkristof/index.html?inline=nyt-per">Nicholas D. Kristof</a>, he wrote some articles about the matter and made it clear that the Muslims community like any other community in the world has good and bad people and we shouldn’t judge the whole just because a few did some mistakes. Nicholas lived in many countries and traveled to nearly all continents and saw how life is outside the United States which made him realize that the world has other dimensions then the ones you see in Fox or CNN.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Ignorance and the fear of the unknown are the main motivation for Americans to act the way they act. What if they back off a little bit and search about those muslims and try to know them as normal people and not judge that woman just because she’s wearing a scarf on her head or that man just because he has a longer beard than they are familiar with. Trying to see things beyond appearances and lead the behavior to be civilized and modern.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">If you’re very curious you can always ask that man or woman on the street why they’re wearing that or saying this but don’t act quickly and hurt them by saying they’re savages or terrorists just because you’re ignorant.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-27179875952711363472010-02-03T11:47:00.000-08:002010-02-03T12:57:05.108-08:00Spotlight author: Laila Lalami<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/S2nfzGQ5CgI/AAAAAAAAARI/edS6AvtIIoc/s1600-h/laila_lalami_author.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 208px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434120494346996226" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/S2nfzGQ5CgI/AAAAAAAAARI/edS6AvtIIoc/s320/laila_lalami_author.gif" /></a><br /><br />Laila Lalami is a Moroccan writer. She was born and raised in Morocco and had her B.A. in Linguistics at Université Mohammed-V in Rabat in 1991. After that she had a scholarship and decided to complete her M.A. in University College London in linguistics.<br /><br /><br />Afterwards, she worked briefly as a journalist in Morocco but decided to go to the United States to the University of Southern California to have a PhD.<br /><br /><br />Her work as an essayist and a critic has appeared in The Boston Globe, The Los Angeles Times, The Nation, The New York Times, The Washington Post and elsewhere. She was short-listed for the Caine Prize for African Writing (the “African Booker”) in 2006 and for the National Book Critics’ Circle Nona Balakian Award in 2009.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/S2nij-q_YtI/AAAAAAAAARY/65Wd8ubQWPg/s1600-h/hope_paper1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 133px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434123533145826002" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/S2nij-q_YtI/AAAAAAAAARY/65Wd8ubQWPg/s200/hope_paper1.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />Her debut collection of short stories, Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits, was published in the fall of 2005 and has since been translated into six languages. Her first novel, Secret Son, was published in the spring of 2009. She is currently Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at the University of California Riverside.<br /><br /><br /><br />This writer is close to my heart because she is a Moroccan, obviously, which means that English is her third language. But she worked hard to be the person she is now and to achieve her goals, or at least some of them. I’m proud of her work and can’t wait to read her last book.Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-65304585384949488092009-08-20T18:55:00.000-07:002009-08-20T19:19:59.200-07:00The birthing house by Christopher Ransom<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/So4ECKwU8BI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/xrZMRDOV6s0/s1600-h/Unknown.jpeg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 211px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372235840792883218" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/So4ECKwU8BI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/xrZMRDOV6s0/s320/Unknown.jpeg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>This is the new supernatural thriller from St. Martin's Press, 'The Birthing House' by Christopher Ransom.<br /><br />As the Publishers weekly said "A blend of supernatural horror and psychological thriller, Ransom’s impressive debut chronicles a couple’s descent into madness after they purchase a 140-year-old Victorian house in rural Wisconsin . . . this addictively readable ghost story will keep readers up all night, with the lights on, of course."<br /><br />I read the first two chapters and i found it intresting and very well written.<br /><br />Click <a href="http://viewer.zoho.com/embed.jsp?f=mORtg">here</a> to read the two first chapters.<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vzQZKxztHsU&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vzQZKxztHsU&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-86880401679221498582009-08-20T08:29:00.000-07:002009-08-20T09:24:39.940-07:00Free song: "Came to me"<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/So1yfmzYm6I/AAAAAAAAAQk/FDDiGh6J-AA/s1600-h/5695_114276817139_15489312139_2169666_4142038_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372075817840450466" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/So1yfmzYm6I/AAAAAAAAAQk/FDDiGh6J-AA/s320/5695_114276817139_15489312139_2169666_4142038_n.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />The prince of the islamic pop releases a new song named "Came to me". The song was dedicated to Sami's fans for the holy month Ramadan.<br /><br />He produced four versions each in a language; English, Arabic, Turkish and Farsi, as he always does. He was also generous enough to give the song for free!!<br />I liked the lyrics of the song and the music is a mix between traditional and modern.<br /><br />You can download the song in MP3 <a href="http://www.samiyusufofficial.com/">here</a><br /><br />Enjoy!Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-40396323695657672452009-08-20T04:27:00.000-07:002009-08-20T04:30:03.578-07:00as a matter of 'fantasy' by my friend Alaa<div align="center">a red sky and a white sun<br />happy death, a one-day year<br />sweet salt, a tortoise run<br />peaceful sleep, cold tears<br />could it happen<br />as a matter of fantasy<br />yes<br /><br />a white short dress, an umbrella<br />black bed sheets, pure tolerance<br />a young old man, a pretty gorilla<br />free slaves, lovely ignorance<br />could it happen<br />as a matter of fantasy<br />yes<br /><br />love and only love<br />things make the heart shake<br />true stuff that seem fake<br />though, i believe they could happen<br /><br />could it happen?<br />as a matter of fa...<br />as a matter of fact<br />.......<br />....<br />..<br />yes<br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br />Alaa</div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-66832472975715460342009-08-18T18:24:00.000-07:002009-08-18T20:31:07.305-07:00Palestine will be free by Maher ZainIt is my first time seeing a music video about Palestine in anime form. when it first started i was quite surprised but after few seconds i actually liked it.<br />It is also my first time listening to a song by Maher Zain, and this is a song from his new album "Thank you Allah".<br /><br />I thought it was a good choice that his first MV was about Palestine. With everything that is still happening there it was just convinient.<br />The lyrics are written from the point of view of a child, the range of the palestinian population that suffers the most. He speaks about their daily struggle, about the violation of human rights and about their faith and believe that Palestine will be free.<br /><br />The animation wasn't bad, it made me think of Space jam, where Michael Jordan was in the anime area with Bugs Bunny and the other guys. Maher was in the animated scene and somehow, even so the quality of it wasn't a hollywood style kind of thing, it looked good with the smoke and the effects. The drawing is good too, i liked how it gave the scenes a grunge look that described perfectly the tragedy as it is.<br /><br />The music video tackled a very important subject for all muslims, and the issue was demonstrated in a very moving way.<br /><br />And Palestine will be free inshallah.<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/foSbqLi6U10&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/foSbqLi6U10&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SotwTU2iACI/AAAAAAAAAQc/3IcH0MhBHyw/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 100px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371510457886703650" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SotwTU2iACI/AAAAAAAAAQc/3IcH0MhBHyw/s320/keyla.jpg" /></a>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-57649852178866421862009-08-17T19:58:00.000-07:002009-08-17T20:05:46.973-07:00The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger<div></div><br /><div><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371133647076198338" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SooZmDMgB8I/AAAAAAAAAPk/UJbxpDFdvj8/s320/timetravelerswife_page_1.jpg" /><br /></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>The book</strong>: The time traveler's wife<br /><br /><strong>The author</strong>: Audrey Niffenegger<br /><br /><strong>Pages</strong>: 373<br /><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br />A dazzling novel in the most untraditional fashion, this is the remarkable story of Henry DeTamble, a dashing, adventuresome librarian who travels involuntarily through time, and Clare Abshire, an artist whose life takes a natural sequential course. Henry and Clare's passionate love affair endures across a sea of time and captures the two lovers in an impossibly romantic trap, and it is Audrey Niffenegger's cinematic storytelling that makes the novel's unconventional chronology so vibrantly triumphant. An enchanting debut and a spellbinding tale of fate and belief in the bonds of love, The Time Traveler's Wife is destined to captivate readers for years to come. </div><br /><div align="right"><br />Review from shelfari.com </div><br /><div align="left"><br /><br />The time traveler's wife is a marvelous story showing how love can survive time and space. Faith plays a big role in the events since Clair couldn't resist a normal life without it. She waits for him everytime he disappears, everytime she wakes up to find the empty side of the bed beside her empty with only his clothes and smell. She struggles and fights but their love wins, their love survives.<br />It's a very touching story with very moving events some of them overwhelming with joy and some of them are heartbraking.<br />The story is written in a simple but very good way. It was told from the point of view of both Clare and Henry the thing that gave the events a deep and emotional side.<br />I very much liked the book and i can't wait to watch the movie. Enjoy the trailor!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/k-RWyORL1Jc&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/k-RWyORL1Jc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SooaO412l4I/AAAAAAAAAPs/vl1WO7ak_EI/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 100px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371134348671489922" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SooaO412l4I/AAAAAAAAAPs/vl1WO7ak_EI/s320/keyla.jpg" /></a>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-33873994602966568472009-07-20T13:34:00.000-07:002009-07-20T13:53:47.483-07:00The 99: Islamic Comic book<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SmTVSE3QGsI/AAAAAAAAAOU/_xhnPQ_b4Uk/s1600-h/les99.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360643962997578434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SmTVSE3QGsI/AAAAAAAAAOU/_xhnPQ_b4Uk/s320/les99.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Inspired by Superman and Pokémon, Naif Al-Mutawa created the 99; the Islamic comic book illustrating the 99 attributions of Allah by 99 superheroes from 99 countries.<br /><br />Naif had the idea after his comeback to Kuwait from the United States of America where he got his PhD in psychology. For him this is his contribution to Islam in order to develop the means of education.<br /><br />The book was banned in the Saudi Arabia because even thus it’s based on the 99 attributions of Allah as in the Koran such as wisdom, light, strength and mercy and it educates the children about good values and helps them through life, but what seems as a problem for the conservative Muslims is that the book opposes to what Islam states as believing in Allah and asking him for help instead of asking individuals.<br /><br />Naif raised money from businessmen of different countries after they believed in the project and hired the best crew that made X-Men and Power rangers’ comic books to make his idea and vision come true.<br />The book made great success in the middle East and attracted many reviewers around the world, most of them praised the work and described it as positive and more than just entertainment.<br /><br />For me this is a great idea to share with the world the greatest attributions of Allah that we see in this world and through history. There are a lot of ways to help Islam grow up again and this is definitely one of them.<br /></div><div></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SmTZEB5NINI/AAAAAAAAAOs/ad7ZNV9SVrw/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 100px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360648119728808146" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SmTZEB5NINI/AAAAAAAAAOs/ad7ZNV9SVrw/s320/keyla.jpg" /></a> </div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-13655216373924403902009-06-20T07:15:00.000-07:002009-06-20T07:30:06.777-07:00Book review: Girls of Riyadh by Rajaa Alsanea<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SjzxyUMqawI/AAAAAAAAAOM/YCkWiFMffP0/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SjzxiHZzewI/AAAAAAAAAOE/QWQnlVnzFtg/s1600-h/girls+of....bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349416025814432514" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SjzxiHZzewI/AAAAAAAAAOE/QWQnlVnzFtg/s320/girls+of....bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /> </div><br /><div><strong>The book</strong>: Girls of Riyadh</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div><strong>The author</strong>: Rajaa Alsanea</div><div><br /> </div><br /><div><strong>Pages</strong>: 300</div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /> </div></div><div><br /><div>Girls of Riyadh is the Arabic version of Sex and the city but censored. It’s about four girls that are trying to survive daily in the uptight and loose in the same time city; Riyadh.<br />Their stories vary between breaking laws, love and defining themselves into their traditional and strict society.<br />I enjoyed reading the book trying to analyse each of the main characters. Michelle; an open minded half American girl. She has a hard time adapting with the Saudi traditions and hopes she can go back to the United States where she thinks she belongs. Lamees; a kind girl who works hard for her studies. Sadeem; a naive girl who trusts people and lives in her romance novels’ world. Gamrah; an old school girl who couldn’t let go of her traditions even after watching sex and the city.<br /><br />I found the book interesting because it opens on the secret behaviour of Saudi woman. I admit i was a little shocked when i first read it because i never thought that Saudi girls are living such a hard life; they can’t get into some places without man, they can’t drive and many other things that show that the country has a very conservative culture.<br />I am glad Rajaa is so brave to write about private lives of her friends’ and hers. I found it really brilliant.<br />The book caused a huge scandal in the country and Saudi people didn’t accept it and accused the writer to be very open and just trying to spread bad morals into the society.<br />For me, the things those four girls were doing to survive is a natural reaction to all the pressure and all the restraint they have been through all their lives so i wasn’t much surprised about the events in the book. Although the things they said about the book and the writer kind of shocked me because some reviewers was talking about it like it’s an erotic book that it should be banned.<br /><br />I strongly recommend ‘Girls of Riyadh’ it gives you a great opportunity to explore another culture and go through different new minds and behaviours.</div><div></div></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SjzxyUMqawI/AAAAAAAAAOM/YCkWiFMffP0/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349416304126880514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SjzxyUMqawI/AAAAAAAAAOM/YCkWiFMffP0/s200/keyla.jpg" border="0" /></a>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-51995511759785323332009-04-23T17:00:00.000-07:002009-04-23T17:22:24.689-07:00Friday Fill-Ins # 9<img height="50" alt="ffi" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3518/3200015130_1ceb740230_t.jpg" width="100" /><br /><br />1. Apparently there's some sort of <strong>an obstacle between love and myself</strong>.<br /><br />2. <strong>Tomorrow will be a</strong> sunny day.<br /><br />3. 2009 <strong>is not so good</strong> so far.<br /><br />4. <strong>He nodded and </strong>that was it.<br /><br />5. For too long I've been <strong>wanting to visit Figi islands... and i still do</strong>.<br /><br />6. I am not obsessed with <strong>my clothes</strong>; I am not!<br /><br />7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to <strong>get some peaceful sleep</strong>, tomorrow my plans include <strong>going to the public library</strong> and Sunday, I want to <strong>finish my new story</strong>!Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-75031487052768566412009-04-21T06:27:00.000-07:002009-04-21T06:57:18.512-07:00Teaser Tuesdays<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Se3QHBrQtNI/AAAAAAAAAM0/30hZfup3O3M/s1600-h/AngelsDemons.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327142753376711890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 119px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Se3QHBrQtNI/AAAAAAAAAM0/30hZfup3O3M/s200/AngelsDemons.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>Title</strong>: Angels and Demons<br /><br /><strong>Author</strong>: Dan Brown<br /><br /><strong>Pages</strong>: 684<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>Prologue:</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><br />Physicist Leonardo Vetra smelled burning flesh, and he knew it was his own. He stared up in terror at the dark figure looming over him. “What do you want!”“La chiave,” the raspy voice replied. “The password.”“But . . . I don’t-”The intruder pressed down again, grinding the white hot object deeper into Vetra’s chest. There was the hiss of broiling flesh. Vetra cried out in agony. “There is no password!” He felt himself drifting toward unconsciousness.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The figure glared. “Ne avevo paura. I was afraid of that.”Vetra fought to keep his senses, but the darkness was closing in. His only solace was in knowing his attacker would never obtain what he had come for. A moment later, however, the figure produced a blade and brought it to Vetra’s face. The blade hovered. Carefully. Surgically.“For the love of God!” Vetra screamed. But it was too late.Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-89551174337576873922009-04-19T02:51:00.000-07:002009-04-19T03:58:10.153-07:00Spotlight author: Rajaa Alsanea<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Ser5UMezlZI/AAAAAAAAAMs/TlYyNqOEpcQ/s1600-h/rajaa1.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326343634662167954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Ser5UMezlZI/AAAAAAAAAMs/TlYyNqOEpcQ/s320/rajaa1.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Ser4rWP3R8I/AAAAAAAAAMk/PfsbiFAZBp8/s1600-h/rajaa.bmp"></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dr. Rajaa Alsanea comes from Saudi Arabia and attended King Saud University earning a Bachelor of Dental Surgery. In 2005, Dr. Alsanea graduated from the College of Dentistry, King Saud University, with her DDS.</div><div><br /><br /></div><div>From 2005-2006, Dr. Alsanea did residencies at the National Guard Hospital, King Faisal Specialist Hospital and the King Khalid University Hospital.Rajaa's interests lie in reading and writing novels.</div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>She currently lives in Chicago where she is a dental graduate student. She aspires to win the Noble Prize for literature by 2015. </div><div></div><div>Her book "Girls of Riyadh" made a huge scandal in the Saudia community. Most people there didn't like it since it reveals some secrets about the Saudi's young generation. The book was translated into English after Rajaa and her publisher thought that the world out there might be intrested in this middle eastern "sex and the city" novel.</div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-49475098866898771632009-04-16T16:29:00.000-07:002009-04-16T17:30:47.359-07:00She did...She looked at the people dancing at the loud music. Everyone was happy, she was numb. She left everything she wanted and loved behind and got back to the life she once ran away from. Even with her bad mood she was glowing in the jolly crowd; everyone was talking to her or about her.<br />She was wandering in the sparkling room with her black and purple traditional gown. Her glamorous Gucci shoes and her jewelry were making feel like home.<br /><br /><br />The bride kept asking for her. She knew she was the right person to give her consulting about style and look. Our young lady tried to do her job; she kept lifting up her cousin’s bride and tried to make her look remarkably fabulous.<br /><br /><br />After she finished she went to the ladies room to freshen up herself. She tried to feel good, to make her feelings go up every time she sees an old friend or one of her family members, but she always loses that battle.<br />She smiles with no spirit. It was nowhere to find; the spirit was lost. Her soul was empty.<br />She looked at her reflexion. Touched her face and tried to feel her skin to be sure she was still existing.<br />She fixed her makeup and got out trying to look alive. She smiled at the familiar faces trying to feel it more than fake it.<br /><br /><br />It was time for the bride to go in the huge room. The gossips went on. The bride was looking –as she made her look- mind-blowing. Everyone was jealous including M. Yes she finally felt something… Jealousy. Not of the bride’s fabulousness though, in fact she was proud of her successful project. But jealous of the whole situation.<br />She was 32, no men, no kids, no job. She was living again with her parents on her savings. She always wanted to get married and have a kid. She longed for the feeling of him inside her, for the unconditional love she will give him to make him the best person.<br /><br /><br />Her last boyfriend didn’t want to get married. At first she was okay with it but until when? She had to leave him anyway to come back to her country and listen to her mother’s talking about marriage and relationships.<br /><br /><br />The round of applause got her out of her thoughts. She sighed and tried to make her way to her table when she was captured by a familiar stranger’s eyes. They gazes fell into each other. Her heart beat violently. The blood rushed to her face made the color of the cheeks pouder increase.<br />She started feeling hot and clumsy. Something weirdly special was about him. He didn’t take off his eyes of her, and she didn’t want him to.<br /><br /><br />She was making up her mind: she liked him already.<br />She was feeling alive… Her heart pounding louder than the music in the big room. She was no longer paying attention to the crowd.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SefNaibLgFI/AAAAAAAAAMM/ngB0hYgemxs/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325450940189999186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SefNaibLgFI/AAAAAAAAAMM/ngB0hYgemxs/s200/keyla.jpg" border="0" /></a>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-17201851689886685962009-04-10T08:59:00.000-07:002009-04-10T10:54:48.294-07:00Splash Award!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sd-HaoiIfdI/AAAAAAAAAL8/dt93-tr73vQ/s1600-h/mermaid_award_3.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323122176202145234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sd-HaoiIfdI/AAAAAAAAAL8/dt93-tr73vQ/s200/mermaid_award_3.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div>I'm late for giving this award, but i really was trying to pick the right people. All the blogs are great but i had to pick just 9 and that's really hard. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I thank <a href="http://sumthinblue.blogspot.com/">Sumthinblue</a> for giving me this award, I honestly didn't expect it ^^</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The Rules:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>1) Put the logo on your blog/post.</div><br /><div>2) Nominate up to 9 blogs which allure, amuse, bewitch, impress or inspire you.</div><br /><div>3) Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.</div><br /><div>4) Let them know that they have been splashed by commenting on their blog.</div><br /><div>5) Remember to link to the person from whom your received your Splash award</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Here are the nominees:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>1. <a href="http://sumthinblue.blogspot.com/">Sumthinblue</a> at Bookmarked.</div><br /><div>2. <a href="http://epicrat.blogspot.com/">Cecilia</a> at The epic rat</div><br /><div>3. <a href="http://booksbytheircover.blogspot.com/">Yan</a> at Books by their covers </div><br /><div>4. <a href="http://islandhopper.blogspot.com/">IHop</a> at Islandhopper lives it up</div><br /><div>5. <a href="http://thepageflipper.blogspot.com/">Chelsea</a> at the page flipper</div><br /><div>6. <a href="http://www.inspringitisthedawn.com/">Tanabata</a> at In spring it is the dawn</div><br /><div>7. <a href="http://insertbooktitle.blogspot.com/">{Insert Book Title Here}</a></div><br /><div>8. <a href="http://bookworm0440.blogspot.com/">Lizzie</a> at The book obsession</div><br /><div>9. <a href="http://www.trunerd.blogspot.com/">Leah</a> at Simply Nerd</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I chose those blogs because they inspired me to do better about my writing and my reading. They impressed me many times with some great ideas and reviews. So thank you guys!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-43560575928264495192009-04-08T12:46:00.000-07:002009-04-08T14:22:47.513-07:00Book review: Undead and unwed by Mary Janice Davidson<div><br /><br /> </div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sd0QQVX9x9I/AAAAAAAAALk/3vxnZAHB7Og/s1600-h/Undead_and_Unwed.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322428207423408082" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sd0QQVX9x9I/AAAAAAAAALk/3vxnZAHB7Og/s320/Undead_and_Unwed.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><p></p><div><br /><br /></div><p><strong>The book</strong>: Undead and unwed</p><div><br /><br /></div><p><strong>The author</strong>: MaryJanice Davidson</p><div><br /><br /></div><p><strong>Pages</strong>: 100</p><div><br /><br /></div><p></p><div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>Betsy had a boring annoying life; divorced parents, an evil step mother and a rich talkative friend. She joined the undead after a car accident and she just went back to her house after she woke up in her coffin.<br />The vampire community wasn’t okay with her letting her identity public, so they locked her with them before discovering that it was their lost queen; she didn’t burn under the sun, instead she yawned and dropped asleep.<br /><br />After Sinclar; who ends up being the king; teaches her vamp 101 and persuades her to help them fighting some evil vampires as he brides her with her favourite expensive brand shoes, she finally accepts her status as the queen and tries to use it to convince other vampires to join them.<br /><br />This first book of the Queen Betsy series is a lot of fun. It’s an easy read. It is weird at first to see a vampire mixing casually with human and spreading all over the news about her nature. But then she has a point, she doesn’t want to lie to her parents especially her mother, who takes the news very well, or her best friend, who was frightened at first but is happy to have her friend back.<br /><br />For a paranormal comedy book, undead and unwed is not so bad, it has a lot of events going on. But the style is very simple that you can barely add any new linguistic forms into your brain.</div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sd0RojU9UYI/AAAAAAAAALs/bjj5tBKfIxQ/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"></a></div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-71036394512405029692009-04-02T04:10:00.000-07:002009-04-02T04:48:24.716-07:00Challenges update<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SdSlL2h_CJI/AAAAAAAAALc/ZAhp-3yaMM4/s1600-h/I+suck+at+challenges.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320058682866600082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SdSlL2h_CJI/AAAAAAAAALc/ZAhp-3yaMM4/s200/I+suck+at+challenges.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I must say i'm still behind due to some circumstances, but i'm doing my best to progress more.</div><br /><div>I just started the numbers challenge by reading '<em>One for the money'. </em>I'll be finishing '<em>Club Dead'</em> today, which is the 9th book i read for the serial readers challenge.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So the whole thing looks like this:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Reading challenge: 16/50</div><br /><div>Serial readers challenge: 9/28</div><br /><div>Numbers challenge: 1/5</div><div> </div><div> </div>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-37150577995878198492009-03-31T08:52:00.000-07:002009-04-02T04:47:18.990-07:00Teaser Thursdays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SdJbo3QxkEI/AAAAAAAAALU/EV_1_HdibWE/s1600-h/club+dead.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319414867465179202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SdJbo3QxkEI/AAAAAAAAALU/EV_1_HdibWE/s200/club+dead.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Title</span>: Club dead<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Author</span>: charlaine Harris<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Pages</span>: 128<br /><br /><br /><br />Bill was hunched over the computer when I let myself in his house. This was an all-too-familiar scenario in the past month or two. He'd torn himself away from his work when I came home, until the past couple of weeks. Now it was the keyboard that attracted him.<br /><br />"Hello, sweetheart," he said absently, his gaze riveted to the screen. An empty bottle of type O TrueBlood was on the desk beside the keyboard. At least he'd remembered to eat.<br />Bill, not a jeans-and-tee kind of guy, was wearing khakis and a plaid shirt in muted blue and green. His skin was glowing, and his thick dark hair smelled like Herbal Essence. He was enough to give any woman a hormonal surge. I kissed his neck, and he didn't react. I licked his ear. Nothing.<br />I'd been on my feet for six hours straight at Merlotte's Bar, an every time some customer had under-tipped, or some fool had patted my fanny, I'd reminded myself that in a short while I'd be with my boyfriend, having incredible sex and basking in his attention.<br />That didn't appear to be happening.<br /><br />I inhaled slowly and steadily and glared at Bill's back. It was a wonderful back, with broad shoulders, and I had planned on seeing it bare with my nails dug into it. I had counted on that very strongly. I exhaled, slowly and steadily.Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-51203330851866523132009-03-22T06:35:00.000-07:002009-03-23T16:25:40.806-07:00Book review: Chocolat by Joanne Harris<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/ScZBOVC9KNI/AAAAAAAAAKk/_RKrXlR8cJo/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/ScZAhFNtVSI/AAAAAAAAAKc/94i5fX_LoDQ/s1600-h/chocolat.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316007347236984098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/ScZAhFNtVSI/AAAAAAAAAKc/94i5fX_LoDQ/s320/chocolat.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>The book</strong>: Chocolat<br /><br /><strong>The author</strong>: Joanne Harris<br /><br /><strong>Pages</strong>: 86<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Chocolat, by Joanne Harris, apprises the story of Vianne Rocher and her daughter Anouchk. They spent their entire life going from town to town, from country to country, exploring new places and experiencing new relationships. It was particularly a tradition that Vianne and her mother used to do.<br /><br /><br /><br />In her new town vianne opened a chocolaterie, and tried to make it a way to blend in and adapt into the new environment. But the reigning ambiance wasn’t welcoming the single mother. The town was a religious one, women were supposed to take care of their houses and husbands, and go to church. The things that Vianne wasn’t doing and was never willing to do. They considered her chocolaterie as the devil’s messenger.<br /><br /><br /><br />Vianne fought with the narrow minded people and proved to them that chocolate is a pleasure that everyone is allowed to feel.<br />She made them realise that religion is not depriving its followers from the pleasures of life and that the person got its needs and craving for some fun and amusement.<br /><br />Vianne decided to leave many times, but the kindness of some friends, and her need to settle down and have a stable life, made her overcome the challenges and make the change in the small town.<br /><br />The plot is good, although a little boring but i feel that the movie did a great job fixing the flaws. I like the writing style. It is really mature but clear and an easy read.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/ScZJMRfr9HI/AAAAAAAAAKs/clNrrYVPqac/s1600-h/keyla.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316016885361013874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/ScZJMRfr9HI/AAAAAAAAAKs/clNrrYVPqac/s200/keyla.jpg" border="0" /></a>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-21659864997757724262009-03-17T03:22:00.000-07:002009-03-17T04:49:32.891-07:00Teaser Thursdays<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sb-I9iBuMHI/AAAAAAAAAKM/ssvTJUwj2Lg/s1600-h/vampirekisses.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314116676007899250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/Sb-I9iBuMHI/AAAAAAAAAKM/ssvTJUwj2Lg/s200/vampirekisses.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Title</strong>: Vampire kisses<br /><br /><br /><strong>Author</strong>: Ellen Schreiber<br /><br /><br /><strong>Pages</strong>: 86<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>Chapter one:</strong> Little Monster<br /><br /><br /><br />It first happened when I was five. I had just finished coloring in My Kindergarten Book. It was filled with Picasso-like drawings of my mom and dad, an Elmer's-glued, tissue-papered collage, and the answers to questions (favorite color, pets, best friend, etc.) written down by our hundred-year-old teacher, Mrs. Peevish.<br />My classmates and I were sitting in a semicircle on the floor in the reading area.<br />"Bradley, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Mrs. Peevish asked after all the other questions had been answered.<br />"A fire fighter!" he shouted.<br />"Cindi?"<br />"Uh…a nurse," Cindi Warren whispered meekly.<br />Mrs. Peevish went through the rest of the class. Police officers. Astronauts. Football players. Finally it was my turn.<br />"Raven, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Mrs. Peevish asked, her<br />green eyes staring through me. I said nothing.<br />"An actress?"<br />I shook my head.<br />"A doctor?"<br />"Nuh, uh," I said.<br />"A flight attendant?"<br />"Yuck!" I replied.<br />"Then what?" she asked, annoyed.<br />I thought for a moment. "I want to be…"<br />"Yes?"<br />"I want to be…a vampire!" I shouted, to the shock and amazement of Mrs. Peevish and my classmates. For a moment I thought she started to laugh; maybe she really did. The children sitting next to me inched away.<br />I spent most of my childhood watching others inch away.<br /><br /><br />I was conceived on my dad's water bed—or on the rooftop of my mom's college dorm under twinkling stars—depending on which one of my parents is telling the story. They were soul mates that couldn't part with the seventies: true love mixed with drugs, some raspberry incense, and the music of the Grateful Dead. A beaded-jeweled, haltertopped, cutoff blue-jeaned, barefooted girl, intertwined with a long-haired, unshaven, Elton John-spectacled, suntanned, leather-vested, bell-bottomed-and-sandaled guy. I think they're lucky I wasn't more eccentric. I could have wanted to be a beaded-haired hippie werewolf! But somehow I became obsessed with vampires.<br />Sarah and Paul Madison became more responsible after my entrance into this world—or I'll rephrase it and say my parents were "less glassy eyed." They sold the Volkswagen flower power van that they were living in and actually started renting property. Our hippie apartment was decorated with 3-D glow-in-the-dark flower posters and orange tubes with a Play-Doh substance that moved on its own—lava lamps—that you could stare at forever. It was the best time ever. The three of us laughed and played Chutes and Ladders and squeezed Twinkies between our teeth. We stayed up late, watching Dracula movies, Dark Shadows with the infamous Barnabas Collins, and Batman on a black-and-white TV we'd received when we opened a bank account. I felt secure under the blanket of midnight, rubbing Mom's growing belly, which made noises like the orange lava lamps. I figured she was going to give birth to more moving Play-Doh.<br /><br /><br />Everything changed when she gave birth to the playdough—only it wasn't Play-Doh. She gave birth to Nerd Boy! How could she? How could she destroy all the Twinkie nights? Now she went to bed early, and that creation that my parents called "Billy" cried and fussed all night. I was suddenly alone. It was Dracula—the Dracula on TV—that kept me company while Mom slept, Nerd Boy wailed, and Dad changed smelly diapers in the darkness.<br />And if that wasn't bad enough, suddenly they sent me to a place that wasn't my apartment, that didn't have wild 3-D flower posters on the walls, but boring collages of kids' handprints. Who decorates around here? I wondered. It was overcrowded with Sears catalog girls in frilly dresses and Sears catalog boys in tapered pants and perfectly combed hair. Mom and Dad called it "kindergarten."<br />"They'll be your friends," my mom reassured me, as I clung to her side for dear life. She waved good-bye and blew me kisses as I stood alone beside the matronly Mrs. Peevish, which was as alone as one can get. I watched my mom walk away with Nerd Boy on her hip as she took him back to the place filled with glow-in-the-dark posters, monster movies, and Twinkies. Somehow I made it through the day. Cutting and gluing black paper on black paper, finger painting Barbie's lips black, and telling the assistant teacher ghost stories, while the Sears catalog kids ran around like they were all cousins at an all-American family picnic. I was even happy to see Nerd Boy when Mom finally came to pick me up.<br />That night she found me with my lips pressed against the TV screen, trying to kiss<br />Christopher Lee in Horror of Dracula.<br />"Raven! What are you doing up so late? You have school tomorrow!"<br />"What?" I said. The Hostess cherry pie that I had been eating fell to the floor, and my heart fell with it.<br />"But I thought it was just the one time?" I said, panicked.<br />"Sweet Raven. You have to go every day!"<br />Every day? The words echoed inside my head. It was a life sentence!<br />That night Nerd Boy couldn't hope to compete with my dramatic wailing and crying. As I lay alone in my bed, I prayed for eternal darkness and a sun that never rose.<br />Unfortunately the next day I awoke to a blinding light and a monster headache.<br /><br /><br />I longed to be around at least one person that I could connect with. But I couldn't find any, at home or school. At home the lava lamps were replaced with Tiffany-style floor lamps, the glow-in-the-dark posters were covered with Laura Ashley wallpaper, and our grainy black-and-white TV was upgraded to a twenty-five-inch color model.<br />At school instead of singing the songs of Mary Poppins, I whistled the theme to The Exorcist.<br /><br />Halfway through kindergarten I tried to become a vampire. Trevor Mitchell, a perfectly combed blond with weak blue eyes, was my nemesis from the moment I stared him down when he tried to cut in front of me on the slide. He hated me because I was the only kid who wasn't afraid of him. The kids and teachers kissed up to him because his father owned most of the land their houses sat on. Trevor was in a biting phase, not because he wanted to be a vampire like me, but just because he was mean. He had taken pieces of flesh out of everyone but me. And I was starting to get ticked off!<br />We were on the playground, standing by the basketball hoop, when I pinched the skin of his puny little arm so hard I thought blood would squirt out. His face turned beet red. I stood motionless and waited. Trevor's body trembled with anger, and his eyes swelled with vengeance as I mischievously smiled back. Then he left his dental impressions in my expectant hand. Mrs. Peevish was forced to sit him against the school wall, and I happily danced around the playground, waiting to transform into a vampire bat.<br /><br /><br />"That Raven is an odd one," I overheard Mrs. Peevish saying to another teacher as I skipped past the crying Trevor, who was now throwing a fit against the hard blacktop. I blew him a grateful kiss with my bitten hand.<br />I wore my wound proudly as I got on the school swing. I could fly now, right? But I'd need something to take me into warp speed. The seat went as high as the top of the fence, but I was aiming for the puffy clouds. The rusty swing started to buckle when I jumped off. I planned to fly across the playground—all the way to a startled Trevor.<br />Instead I plummeted to the muddy earth, doing further damage to my tooth-marked hand.<br />I cried more from the fact that I didn't possess supernatural powers like my heroes on TV than because of my throbbing flesh.<br />With my bite trapped under ice, Mrs. Peevish sat me against the wall to rest while the spoiled snot-nosed Trevor was now free to play. He blew me a teasing kiss and said, "Thank you." I stuck out my tongue and called him a name I had heard a mobster say in The Godfather. Mrs. Peevish immediately sent me inside. I was sent inside a lot during my childhood recesses. I was destined to take a recess from recess.Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-72312753053303218522009-02-27T01:28:00.000-08:002009-02-27T01:39:45.463-08:00Friday fill-ins # 8<img width="100" alt="ffi" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3518/3200015130_1ceb740230_t.jpg" height="50" /><p></p><p>1. I'm <strong>exhau</strong><strong>sted</strong>, I'm <strong>weavy</strong>, I <strong>need some sleep</strong>. <br /></p><br />2. Why do I have <strong>to be stressed out for unimportant things</strong> and not <strong>dealing with them calmly</strong>.<br /><br />3. How does this <strong>machine</strong> work, anyway?<br /><br />4. Every morning, I put <strong>some raisins</strong> on my <strong>yagourt</strong>.<br /><br />5. I consider myself lucky because <strong>I have a lot of caring friends.<br /><br /></strong>6. One day we’ll see <strong>the Backstreet Boys live</strong>.<br /><br /><p>7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to <strong>get some rest</strong>, tomorrow my plans include <strong>baking some muffins</strong> and Sunday, I want to <strong>finish my presentation about Starbucks</strong>!<br /></p><p><br /></p>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-65427613772823302282009-02-18T13:54:00.000-08:002009-02-18T14:06:03.518-08:00Spothlight author: Joanne Harris<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZyGHBcvMqI/AAAAAAAAAJk/SgfnZnDDM70/s1600-h/12016_harris_joanne.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZyGHBcvMqI/AAAAAAAAAJk/SgfnZnDDM70/s200/12016_harris_joanne.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304261916341777058" /></a><br /><p>Joanne Harris was born in Barnsley in 1964, of a French mother and an English father. She studied Modern and Mediaeval Languages at St Catharine’s College, Cambridge and was a teacher for fifteen years, during which time she published three novels; The Evil Seed (1989), Sleep, Pale Sister (1993) and Chocolat (1999), which was made into an Oscar-nominated film starring Juliette Binoche and Johnny Depp. <br /></p><br />Since then, she has written seven more novels; Blackberry Wine, Five Quarters of the Orange, Coastliners, Holy Fools, Gentlemen and Players, and, most recently, The Lollipop Shoes and Runemarks, plus; Jigs & Reels, a collection of short stories and, with cookery writer Fran Warde, two cookbooks; The French Kitchen and The French Market. Her books are now published in over 40 countries and have won a number of British and international awards. In 2004, Joanne was one of the judges of the Whitbread prize (categories; first novel and overall winner); and in 2005 she was a judge of the Orange prize. <br /><br />Her hobbies are listed in Who’s Who as: “mooching, lounging, strutting, strumming, priest-baiting and quiet subversion of the system”, although she also enjoys obfuscation, sleaze, rebellion, witchcraft, armed robbery, tea and biscuits. She is not above bribery and would not necessarily refuse an offer involving exotic travel, champagne or yellow diamonds from Graff. She plays bass guitar in a band first formed when she was 16, is currently studying Old Norse and lives with her husband Kevin and her daughter Anouchka, about 15 miles from the place she was born. Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-84013814970542441902009-02-17T14:13:00.000-08:002009-02-17T15:08:48.152-08:00Teaser Tuesdays<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZs3OdMqHxI/AAAAAAAAAJc/q_UfKvGyBGg/s1600-h/Undead_and_Unwed.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZs3OdMqHxI/AAAAAAAAAJc/q_UfKvGyBGg/s200/Undead_and_Unwed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303893707654307602" /> </a><br /></p><p><strong>Ttile</strong>: Undead and unwed</p><p><strong>Author</strong>: Mary Janice Davidson</p><p><strong>Chapter one:</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p>The day I died started out bad and got worse in a hurry.<br />I hit my snooze alarm a few too many times and was late for work. And didn’t have time for breakfast. Okay, that’s a lie, I gobbled a pair of chocolate Pop Tarts while waiting for the bus. My mom would have approved (who do you think got me hooked on the darned things?), but a nutritionist would have smacked me upside the head with her calorie counter.</p><p>At a nine a.m. meeting I found out the recession (the one the President has been denying for two years) had hit me right between the eyes: I had been laid off. Not unexpected, but it hurt, just the same. They had to slash costs, and god forbid any of senior management be shown the door. Nope; the clerks and secretaries had been deemed expendable.</p><p>I cleaned out my desk, avoided the way my co-workers were avoiding looking at me (the ones left, that is), and scuttled home.<br />As I walked through my front door I saw my answering machine light winking at me like a small black dragon. The message was from my stepmonster: “Your father and I won’t be able to make it to your party tonight…I just realized we have an earlier commitment. Sorry.” Sure you are, jerk. “Have fun without us.” No problem. “Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.” Translation: Maybe some poor slob will marry you and take you off my hands. My stepmonster had, from day one, related to me in only one way: as a rival for her new husband’s affections.</p><p>I went into the kitchen to feed my cat, and that’s when I noticed she’d run away again. Always looking for adventure, my Giselle (although it’s more like I’m her Betsy).</p><p><br />I looked at the clock. My, my. Not even noon.</p><p><br />Happy birthday to me.</p><p><br />* * * * *<br /></p><p>As it turned out, we had a freak April snowstorm, and my party was postponed. Just as well…I didn’t feel like going out, putting on a happy face, and drinking one too many daiquiris. The Mall of America is a terrific place, but I’ve got to be in the mood for crowds, overpriced retail merchandise, and six dollar drinks. Tonight I wasn’t.</p><p>Nick called around eight p.m., and that was my day’s sole bright spot. Nick Berry was a detective who worked out of St. Paul. I’d been attacked a couple of months before, and…</p><p>Okay, well, “attacked” is putting it mildly. I don’t like to talk about it—tothink about it—but what happened was, a bunch of creeps jumped me as I was leaving Kahn’s Mongolian Barbecue (all you can eat for $11.95, including salad, dessert, and free refills). I have no idea what they wante —they didn’t take my purse or try to rape me. Basically, they clawed and bit at me like a bunch of rabid squirrels while I fended them off with the toes of my Manolo Blahniks and screamed for help as loud as I could…so loud I couldn’t speak above a whisper for three days. Help didn’t come, but the bad guys ran away.<br />Skittered away, actually. While I leaned against my car, concentrating on not passing out, I glanced back and it looked like a few of them were on all fours.</p><p>Nick was assigned to the case, and he interviewed me in the hospital while they were disinfecting the bite marks. All fifteen of them. The intern who took care of me smelled like cilantro and kept humming the theme from Harry Potter.</p><p>That was last fall. Since then, more and more people—they didn’t discriminate between women and men—were being attacked. The last two had turned up dead. So, yeah, I was freaked out by what happened, and I’d sworn off Kahn’s until the bad guys were caught, but mostly I was grateful it hadn’t been worse.</p><p><br />Anyway, Nick called and we chatted and, long story short, I promised to come in to look through the Big Book O‘ Bad Guys one more time. And I would. For myself, to feel like I was being pro active, but mostly to see Nick, who was exactly my height (six feet), dark blonde, swimmer’s build, and looked like an escapee from a Mr. Hardbody calendar. I’ve broken the law, Officer, take me in.</p><p>Making Officer Nick my eye candy would be the closest I’ve gotten to getting laid in…what year was it? Not that I’m a prude. I’m just picky. I treat myself to the nicest, most expensive shoes I can get my hands on, which isn’t easy on a secretary’s budget. I save up for months to buy the dumb things. And those only have to go on my feet.<br />Yep, that’s me in a nutshell: Elizabeth Taylor (don’t start!), single, dead-end job (well, not anymore), lives with her cat. And I’m so dull, the fucking cat runs away about three times a month just to get a little excitement.<br /></p><p>And speaking of the cat…I had just heard her telltaleRiaaaooowwwww! from the street. Super! Giselle hated the snow. She had probably been looking for a little spring lovin‘ and gotten caught in the storm. Now she was outside waiting for rescue. And when Idid rescue her, she’d be horribly affronted and wouldn’t make eye contact for the rest of the week.</p><p><br />I slipped into my boots and headed into the yard. It was still snowing, but I could see Giselle crouched in the middle of the street like a small blob of shadow. One with amber-colored eyes. I wasted ten seconds calling her—whydo I call cats?—then clomped through my yard into the street. </p><p>Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, as I live at the end of the block and it’s a quiet street. However, in the snow on icy roads, the driver didn’t see me in time. When he did, he did the absolutely worst thing: slammed on his brakes. That pretty much sealed my doom.</p><p>Dying doesn’t hurt. I know that sounds like a crock, some touchy-feely nonsense meant to make<br />people feel better about biting the big one. But the fact is, your body is so traumatized by what’s<br />happening, it shuts down your nerve endings. Not only did dying not hurt, I didn’t even feel the cold. And it was only ten degrees that night.</p><p><br />I handled it badly, I admit. When I saw he was going to plow into me, I froze like a deer in the headlights. A big, dumb, blonde deer who had just paid for touch-up highlights. I couldn’t move, not even to save my life.</p><p>Giselle certainly could; the ungrateful little wretch scampered right the hell out of there. Me, I went flying. The car hit me at forty miles an hour, which was survivable, and knocked me into a tree, which was not. </p><p>I heard things break. I heard my own skull shatter—it sounded like someone was chewing ice in my ear. I felt myself bleed. I felt my bladder let go involuntarily for the first time in twenty-six years. In the dark, my blood on the snow looked black.</p><p>The last thing I saw was Giselle sitting on my porch, waiting for me to let her in. The last thing I heard was the driver, screaming for help.</p><p><br /><br /></p>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-51538662707530007672009-02-16T15:41:00.000-08:002009-02-16T16:26:55.868-08:00In my Mailbox #1<p></p><p>All the books were bought. <img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 319px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZoAFMd5fVI/AAAAAAAAAJU/Uf5Ul5E8mOA/s320/books.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303551600428154194" /><br /></p><p>1- <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Angels-Demons-Novel-Robert-Langdon/dp/074349346X/ref=pd_bbs_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1234829400&sr=8-2">Angels and Demons</a> by Dan Brown</p><p>2- <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tale-Two-Cities-Penguin-Classics/dp/0141439602/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1234829866&sr=1-1">A tale of two cities</a> by Charled Dickens</p><p>3- New York stories by various authors</p><p>4- <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Shopaholic-Baby-Sophie-Kinsella/dp/0440242398/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1234830124&sr=1-1">Shopaholic and Baby</a> by Sophie Kinsella</p><p>5- <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Alchemist-Paulo-Coelho/dp/0061122416/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1234830303&sr=1-1">The alchemist</a> by Paulo Coelho</p>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-12532737671480558052009-02-15T09:04:00.000-08:002009-03-23T16:29:15.439-07:00Book review: Marked by P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZhMRSo4yiI/AAAAAAAAAJE/7yaaJSDJx_g/s1600-h/marked.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZhMRSo4yiI/AAAAAAAAAJE/7yaaJSDJx_g/s400/marked.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303072421173578274" /></a><strong>The book</strong>: Marked</p><p><strong>The author</strong>: P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast</p><p><strong>Pages</strong>: 197</p><p>Zoey Redbird was going to be one average high school student before being marked. Zoey’s life changed upside down, everything was new and weird to her. Her friends abandoned her, her family wanted to control her. She only found refuge at her grandmother that took her to the house of night that was her home from that day. She was a third former fledgling but not a regular one. </p><p>Her mark was different from the others, her affinity was powerful, and her determination to follow Nyx’s path clean and strong as it is, made her a perfect match to be a training high priestess. <br /></p><br /><p>I find the story very interesting since it shows the change and the suffering of a teenage toward being a vampire. It gives us an idea about how much the change can be difficult, and how much strength and belief are needed to go through it. Friendship has a huge part in the story, the whole sticking together in good and bad helped Zoey to win her battle so far against the ex leader of the Dark Daughters. </p><p>Zoey’s holding to her family’s traditions was another point that I liked about the story. She actually turned to the Cherokee’s with prayers to help her come up with a plan; I found this brilliant because many of nowadays teenagers grow apart from their traditions and beliefs even when they need them the most.<br /></p><br />I couldn’t help but compare the House of night series with the Harry Potter ones. The whole school thing, the fitting issue, and then the typical enemy blond people, for me that is just the same thing, this is really Harry Potter vampire version. I would love to watch it as a movie, it would be fabulous.<br /><br />The style is easy to read, it is a very simple one, merely like the fanfiction’s. Which can make you bound with the book more, and feel that it was written by your close friend.<br /><br />I can’t wait to read the other books of the series. It was a great deal to write what Zoey had been through and make you understand her pain and hard times because you can feel the bound between you and the main character. That certainly makes you wonder what will she do next. What changes will she do in the Dark Daughters? And if her relationship with Erik Night will be developed or not?<br /><p>All that and more will be discovered in the next book. I recommend “Marked”, it’s a very catching and eventful story.</p><p><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 100px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZyHqXEcS2I/AAAAAAAAAJs/7VLPvZwNuME/s200/keyla.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304263622952504162" /><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6345368636325748587.post-25101717078422098582009-02-14T08:26:00.000-08:002009-02-14T08:44:55.839-08:00Happy V day!!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZb04YNpogI/AAAAAAAAAI8/hLZkl-OAqYU/s1600-h/heartshapedcookiesforRoxyforValenti.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZb04YNpogI/AAAAAAAAAI8/hLZkl-OAqYU/s320/heartshapedcookiesforRoxyforValenti.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302694860684894722" /></a><br /><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZb0VHe75XI/AAAAAAAAAI0/4kYRzDeZV2s/s1600-h/valentines.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 155px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ks2floYnrkQ/SZb0VHe75XI/AAAAAAAAAI0/4kYRzDeZV2s/s320/valentines.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302694254898570610" /></a><br /></p><p></p>Lady Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01104989472682275769noreply@blogger.com1