I just write what I feel like writing. I don't really care if people say, "That is way too long" and then go elsewhere. I would prefer that to people just leaving a comment and not reading.
2).Why must some of your content sometimes be so objectionable?
No matter what I write, it will touch a nerve with someone. If I had to sit and try to fit something in a realm where I would offend no one, then my blog would be about flowers and sunshine, and even then, someone would say that they hated the sun and were allergic to the flowers.
3). Is there a formula to a good blog post?
Yes, and I do not follow it. The perfect blog post is one that you can read in under 30 seconds and it gives you a little chuckle. The people that post like that will always be popular.
4). How do you build a large following and get a lot of comments?
Comments are directly proportional to the length of your posts and how many comments that you make. There is no magic blogger who is not going to comment and still get a lot of responses on their site. I have seen blogs with 100 followers get 50 comments per post and others with 800 followers, get 35 comments per post. It is all dependent on how much time that you are willing to invest in making comments yourself.
5). Do you care about how many followers you have?
I really did at one point. I was driven to see those numbers go up. I would go scouting new blogs to try and find new people to associate with, but after a while, I kind of reached a point where it became unimportant to me. I still notice when the number changes, but it does not thrill me to see it go up and it does not bother me to see it go down. Like I said, I do not follow a format that lends itself to gathering a lot of new people.
6).If you are not in it for the comments, then why would you comment on a blog where the post would obviously have no interest to you, for example, a blogger who might be talking about a baby teething or something along those lines?
Because, to me, blogging is about making friendships. You are not going to be interested in every post that someone writes, but once you start to know them as people and not just as blog pages, then you read the post out of the respect that you have for the person who wrote it.
If anyone else wants to know my opinion on anything related to blogging then feel free to ask! (blogging only, today!) haha!
Do you think followers are a reliable indication of the quality of a blog? Why or why not?
I don't think that followers mean anything to the quality of a blog. I think that following a blog is just a way to book mark it so that you can go back to it in the future. All blogs have there own niche. Followers come from your commenting, not your posts!
Do you think that in the near future, censorship will be established in blog land?
I don't think that blogger will censor people, but I think that some people will do it to themselves. I am not as "Out there" as I could be. I would scare people LOL
Okay people, you know the Brotin drill. Go readBrian Miller'spart first before you read this, otherwise you will be totally lost. It was his turn to start us off this time!
I ask Tommy why he needs a happy machine. After years of dealing with children, I have developed a keen sense of observation when it comes to spotting abuse or neglect.
“I dunno,” he answers me, staring down at the floor in a valiant effort not to make eye contact.
I don’t push him too hard, Too much pressure and he will never open up to me.
“Okay Tommy, you can tell me when you feel like it,” I say to him, giving the boy a gentle rub on his shoulder, trying to assure him that I can be trusted.
He follows me around most of the afternoon, not saying much, but seemingly enjoying my company. Even when the science fair is well underway, the sheepish boy refuses to leave my side.
“Are your parents coming to the show?”
“Mom might, but Dad will never come,”
“Why not?” I ask him, trying not to sound like I am prying too much.
“Because Mommy and Daddy don’t do anything together without yelling. That’s why I made them another Happy Box.”
“You mean Happy Machine?” I ask him, curious as to why he changed his terminology when referring to his project.
“Well, mine is a Happiness Machine, and the other one is a Happiness Box. I figured that since I made my machine in a box that I could just call them both Happiness Boxes. Mine is bigger than the other one. I added some lights and stuff. I just hope that it works as good.”
I was going to delve deeper into the second happy box, but Tommy’s mother made her presence known at her son’s exhibit.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Douglas,” I say, greeting her in a friendly tone of voice. “Did you and Tommy’s dad help him with his project? It is a very creative and wonderful idea.”
She just stares at the box full of lights and gadgets as if she has never seen it before.
“It’s another Happy Box, Mom. Now we have two happy boxes!”
It is at this point that I know that she has never seen his project before. A look of anger fills her face.
“Tommy, you grab that happy thing of yours. We are going, NOW!”
“Mrs. Douglas, he obviously put a lot of time and effort into his happy machine, how about giving him a chance to use it and bring a few smiles to his own face?”
She peers at me with a spiteful glance, picks up Tommy’s happy box, and grabs her son by the arm.
“Raise you own God Damned kid the way you like. Leave my kid to me!” She snaps, and then leads him away.
“Bye Mr. Miller,” Tommy says as he flashes me a look of helplessness.
At that, his mother picks up the pace and they disappear down the hall.
the second inkling of concern pulls at my conscience, he sees it on my face, his hand waves goodbye with troubled thought, bringing back the weight that I felt yesterday while I was at the window...
*****
Tommy and his mother arrive at their home. She leads her son inside, puts the project on the coffee table and then proceeds to slap him across the face.
“You little Bastard, don’t you ever tell people that we need a happy box!”
Tommy begins to cry and runs to his bedroom, slamming the door.
“Wait until your Dad hears what you made, he’s gonna kill you,” she yells out, in the direction of his bedroom.
Tommy shudders.
Later, Tommy’s dad enters the room brandishing a belt. He violently flips his son over and lashes at his lower back and buttocks. He has a crazy look about him as he grinds his teeth and growls out a word with every single sickening strike.
Tommys cries are ear piercing, as his father exits the room and slams the door. He heaves and sobs for over an hour, rubbing his back where the welts continued to grow larger. Tommy thinks about his happy machine in the box that he left on the coffee table. He hopes that maybe his parents will use his invention tonight.
He lays in bed for a long time, watching the light that comes in from under his bedroom door. He knows that when the light dims, that he will be able to peek out and see if they are going to try his invention. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the light grows dim and Tommy climbs from his bed. He cracks open his bedroom door and gazes into the family room. He sees that the box containing his happy machine is no longer on the table. It had been replaced by the other happy box, the big wooden one that he has seen them use many times. His mom holds a spoon over an open flame, as his dad grabs a big needle and a large rubber band from the box. Tommy watches as his dad twists the rubber band tight and jabs the needle into his arm. He has seen his parents do this many times, often referring to the box as their “Happy Box”.
Tommy watches for a while as his mom injects herself, and then for a period of time his parents both look so peaceful and quiet. It seems that his little happiness machine was no match for theirs. He can not wait until he is old enough to try their happy box. He is tired of the beatings. He knows now that he cannot talk to Mr. Miller anymore about his home life. It hurts too much!
******
I drive home, knowing that I will have to notify Social Services about Tommy Douglas. I know that he is in trouble. I do not know what kind of trouble it is, but I feel pretty sure that I can save him. Tomorrow morning will bring new hope for him. Knowing that I am going to take action eases my mind. I get ready for bed and just stand in the bathroom staring in the mirror.
I have eased the concern that pulls at my conscience, I can see it on my own face, my finger flips the light switch with a peaceful thought, leaving behind the weight that I felt while I was at the window...
He begged her to call She hesitated, then dialed A spark was ignited A connection was born Their bond now unbreakable Strengthens each day Still miles apart Yet joined at the heart Soon to be united A temporary union Divided once more Strengthens the bond A long life together When they both say I do
Tell a story in exactly 55 words. For more, go visit G Man
Although this is a public forum, the fact that I have been doing this for 14 months and you were not informed about it should give you the clue that there is a certain amount of privacy that I like to keep in my life. Last night, as my finger hovered above "Delete Blog" button, I realized that erasing over a year of work was silly. If it fulfills some sort of voyeuristic curiosity to read some of my thoughts, then feel free to do so. It scares me a little to know that someone actually took the time to search for me. Maybe it isn't just spammers and identity thieves that I have to look out for. I think the point that I never sent people my blog url would be clue enough that I did not want it read in certain circles. If I am supposed to commend you on your cunning detective work, then I bow to the solver of life's greatest Scooby Doo mystery. Now I can feel like a teenager who just found out his mother just read his diary. Oh well, if there is anything that you want to know about me, it is probably hidden somewhere within these pages. Keep in mind that not everything is totally true. As for blueviolet....Yes, I do love her, and when I feel like sharing the story with you, then I will do so, unless you would rather try to piece it together, then have at it!
Dear blueviolet,
I love you, Honey, and am very sorry about the talk about changing my writing because of this incident. I am 44 years old and don't owe explanations to anyone. I love you dearly and that is all that anyone needs to know. Please do not change the way that you comment on my site, as that would hurt me deeply. I Love You. Sincerely, Mike (Your Future Hubby)
Family scorn is too much for me to face. I must wander through my misery alone, knowing that I was the only one who could have saved my Brother. My cowardice was monumental, and fear led to his demise. Today I put flowers on his grave. All he needed was a kidney. I’m sorry, Brother.
Tell a story in exactly 55 words. For more, go visit G Man
Sometimes in our lives we make stupid decisions and bad choices. Sometimes we stick with those bad decisions and bad choices because change can be difficult and involved. I was in a relationship for 13 years, of which only about two of those years were actually semi happy. Looking back, I cannot even say that they were more than just semi. The calendar can be a very sneaky thing. Days turn into months turn into years turn into a decade and so on.
In the interest of my well being and future contentment, I asked people to remove themselves from my life. This should have been a very easy request to fill, being that said people had no real possessions except for a vehicle, which I gave to them. However, easier said than done, I guess.
I can not tell you how much that I tried to make these people’s lives better and how much money that I spent to try to help them. I just reached a realization that some people don’t ever want to elevate themselves and are just happy existing. I have too much life left to live for that.
I began blogging to escape my miserable personal life. That is why I am on line so many hours and comment so much. It became an escape world for me. I needed to free the creative side of my nature.
I gave people 15 days to leave my house. As of day 14, not one thing had been moved out. This is why I have not been around so much lately.
As for blueviolet, she had no bearing on my decision. I really made this choice about 8 years ago, but just never had the heart to go through with it.
My love for blue violet is a story for another day……….
Enchanted Oak is a blog that I have never even read, but she is doing a wonderful thing. The following paragraph is taken from her blog. You need to go over and leave a comment on her site, that helps, also!
"Today and Sunday, I’d like to celebrate the simple pleasures of life with you. For each person who participates with a list, a poem, or a prose piece about the joy of simple things, my family will donate $2.00 to Heartline Ministries for their medical clinic and other programs in Haiti. The Heartline Ministries blog by John McHoul will tell you more about what they are doing."
I marveled at a rose in a field so long ago It's beauty stole my heart then was covered by the snow
I spent time after that just picking wild flowers Enjoying their sweet smells with their alluring powers
Followed by the dark days with no color in my soul just some weeds and dandelions to fill a barren hole
But now I have the chance to start my life anew in my happy little land Where the violets are so blue
Just a simple little thing can rescue you from gloom like a flower in the field or love that starts to bloom.
To read part one, please go read Jaime's beginning. The story won't make much sense, otherwise!!!
BLOODLINES (CONCLUSION)
They both knew where he would be. It would be at the seediest bars and strip clubs where Damon would be conducting his search for his next meal. Not only was he hungry for blood, he also had a voracious sexual appetite. He was a force of evil to be reckoned with, a very powerful and influential servant of the dark Lord.
He sat at the bar of the Cat Club, taking drags on his cigarette, and nursing his whiskey. He thought for a moment about how much life had changed over the last 300 years and yet, how some things had remained the same. People drinking to forget problems, congregating together with the sole purpose of getting fucked by some exciting stranger. Yes, some things were very consistent throughout history.
On this night, he had his eye upon a blond beauty gracing the end of the bar. She looked upset and lonely. He knew that with his influences that he could have her at will, but was in no rush. The whiskey tasted good, and the mortal buffoons were offering him some much needed entertainment with their stupidity. The blond was not going anywhere.
Damon was startled when Julie sat down next to him.
“In the alley, Now!” She ordered, making her challenge known.
“You are such a foolish whore. I don’t need to go outside to meet with you. You have no idea what you are fucking with, “ Damon warned.
He stared at Julie, putting her in a trance. She was frozen there at the bar, as rigid as a wax sculpture.
“You belong to my bloodline. I own your soul and have total control over you. I could have you impale your own chest and take your existence from you if I wished, but then my world would not be so interesting then. Instead of harboring ill will toward me, why don’t you choose from the buffet that is present here in front of you this evening. Eat, dear girl, you seem awfully pale.”
Julie was hungry. She had been resisting the kill as of late, trying to curb her lust. Damon had released his mid control on her. She knew that he had to get him into the alley, so she began thinking of a new angle.
“I just can’t seem to make the kill lately, Damon. I am very hungry. If I lure a man out, can you help me? Is this too much to ask of you, my creator?”
Damon’s ego had been stroked. Hearing Julie call him her creator was music to his ears.
“You get him outside and I will get you back on track,” Damon reassured her.
He watched as Julie singled out a gentleman and worked her sultry magic. If she was not already a creature of similar being, he probably would have been aroused by her routine, but vampires were not really attracted to each other. It only took Julie 10 minutes before she was leading the stranger out of the back door of the establishment. Damon, signaled the Bartender.
“Fill this up for me,” He said handing over his empty glass. “I will not be gone long.”
He rose from his bar stool and headed out of the same door that Julie had departed from. He stepped into the dark and misty back alley, only to find that Julie was alone. Damon smiled, for he knew what was about to happen.
Robert emerged from behind a trash dumpster, pistol in hand.
“You are both such fools!” Damon growled. “You cannot defeat me. You will soon learn”
The bartender stared at the empty glass. It had been twenty minutes since the gentleman had vacated his seat, vowing to return. He was going to give him another few minutes. As that thought left his head, he saw the back door open and a man approach the bar.
Damon sat down on his stool and took a sip of his drink.
“Didn’t think that you were coming back?” The bartender asked.
“I had to slay a dragon or two,” Damon said with a sly smile.
“Is that like draining the lizard?”
“Something like that, “ Damon responded, turning his attention back to the blond woman. He was now in the mood for some sex and blood, in that order.
He made his way to the end of the bar and sat down next to her. Within a few minutes they both rose and headed for the exit.
“Hey bud, there are two big piles of dust outside of your back door, you might want someone to clean them up,” Damon said to the bartender as he made his way out.
The bartender was puzzled. He had just been out there a few hours earlier and had not noticed anything like that.
Damon’s apartment was dark, decorated with old trinkets and antiques. The blond goddess did not say a word. She knew why she was there and welcomed the encounter. Damon guided the woman to his bed. It did not take very much effort to get her naked. She was obviously in need of attention. She was so beautiful that he considered making her his servant, but seeing how that worked out the last time, he decided just to enjoy her temporarily. He disrobed, exposing his large genitalia for her to see. He had no need for foreplay on this evening, his hunger was battling his horniness. Damon ripped her legs apart and almost jumped up on her. It was more like a rape than an enjoyable sexual encounter. He thrust into her like a piston, firing in and out waiting for her to explode with an orgasmic passion, but not even a sound came from her body. She seemed to be traumatized. He did not care, he was getting his needs fulfilled.
All of a sudden, there was some life in her. She grabbed onto his back and pulled him in. Only something was strange. Her grip was getting stronger. Her nails were growing, along with the length and shape of her body. Her face changed form, as her teeth became long drooling fangs and her once smooth skin became mangy fur. She growled with a terrible roar. The full moon was upon them, and even though she had tried to fight it, the beast that dwelt within her had risen to the surface.
Damon was in the grasp of a vicious Devil wolf, a creature that even the vampire thought to be fiction. He pulled his naked body away, but the beast was too strong. He tried to stare into the monsters eyes to put it in a trance, but to no avail. This was Evil that made even the evil one fearful.
The wolf dug its claws into Damon’s back and tore him open. The huge jaws clamped down on the vampire’s neck and with one crunching bite, nearly severed his head. A few nips later, and the head was completely off. The wolf now dined on the Vampire carcass. There was life in Damon’s eyes. A vampire who’s heart is not pierced will remain alive. His eyes watched as the wolf creature feasted on his dead flesh, crunching the bones and organs as she ate. He watched as the wolf dug her jaws into his ribcage and emerged with a beating heart. The last thing that Damon saw was the wolf woman chomp down on the blood red heart. The vampire was no more. Just a red stain on a bed sheet. The beast consumed all of the remains, leaving only the lifeless head behind. The blond woman woke up in the bushes, naked and trembling. She hated when she had these blackouts. She would have to find a way to get covered up and get home as usual. Maybe one day she would seek some professional help, but for now, she would just deal with it.
Gillian, from A Peek Into Our Livesasked me if I could write a short story to feature on her Monday Male spotlight where she spotlights a male blogger. Being that there are only about 5 of us, I gladly said yes! LOL! If you want to read it, check out her site, and maybe even if you don't want to read it you could check out her sight. Gillian lives in South Africa, and it is a good way to learn about life in other parts of the world.
(Make sure that you leave Gillian a comment! I will check her site and see!)
