tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-135637942024-03-06T22:44:45.703-08:00Melissa 2 UNonsensical Ravings of a Lunatic MindMelissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.comBlogger393125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-78589044620361830252021-12-02T00:21:00.001-08:002021-12-02T11:41:54.424-08:00 Felt like writing a poem. Might delete later.<p>All through the pandemic I've struggled with writing but something has shifted and now I give you a poem called:</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Unknown </span></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Horizon</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdj3as_G4rHjGoa9DCcIHKKRk8Lzkwi7CaLoMRZjvnAnkceplmZFZPKWqPxK5PfAt5lwnHf02gWiIUrUovpcS74kGnss4k777uv0zI-PdtTsaPQNp9ba7hmde9xC1KEq6ocYIy/s1024/IMG_0076.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdj3as_G4rHjGoa9DCcIHKKRk8Lzkwi7CaLoMRZjvnAnkceplmZFZPKWqPxK5PfAt5lwnHf02gWiIUrUovpcS74kGnss4k777uv0zI-PdtTsaPQNp9ba7hmde9xC1KEq6ocYIy/s320/IMG_0076.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Unknown</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span> </span>Horizon</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Float</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Float</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span>Float away</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Losing time</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Losing sleep</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Never want</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>To begin</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Never want</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>To finish</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Forever stuck</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Somewhere</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span>In between</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Drift</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Drift</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span>Drift into space</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lost in thoughts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>And memories</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Of what was</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>And what I want to be</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hard to grasp</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>On the now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Dive in</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Anchor down</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rinse</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>And repeat</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What time is it?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Zoning out again</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thoughts flit in</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>And what of it?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Am I lost</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Or am I found?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Is this real</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Or all a dream?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And what's</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>The difference</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span>Anyway?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Floating</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Floating</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span>Floating in a sea</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Of stars</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Black symphony</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Time slips away</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Everything is now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In the eternal wake</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Ra’s eye</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Shines down</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Blinding me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Can't see</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What's right in </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Front of me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Desired blindness</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Darkness is a comfort</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When the light burns</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Keep going</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Drifting</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Drifting</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span><span> </span>Drifting away</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Across the sea</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Between</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>You and me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I remember</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Everything</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You forgot</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And my heart</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Still breaks</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">How long</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Until I'm free</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">How long</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Until I let go</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Of the dreams</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>That were</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">For the dreams</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>That will be</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Time to go</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Time to...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Float away</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>From all the pain</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Of what we can't </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Have again</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Drift with me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Into thee</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unknown</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Horizon</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Drift with me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Into thee</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unknown</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span> </span>Horizon</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">@melissasainthilaire</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">12/2/21</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p>Never thought I'd write a poem again. I'm so relieved!</p></div><br /><p></p>Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-70796676067329988472019-05-31T17:22:00.000-07:002019-05-31T17:23:53.821-07:00Rant: Yes, I don't have a "real job". So what?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art: Robin Eisenberg</td></tr>
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I have never understood the concept of writing in public at a coffee shop. I'm not judging. I tried it for a bit 20 years ago but it never worked well for me. Perhaps some peeps' brains work better in those conditions. But for me, I need absolute solitude. I also need to know that I have no plans for the rest of the day and into the night in case I get on a roll and want to keep going. Moreover I have a whole ritual I need to do before I even begin putting one word down that involves incense, meditation, music and other things to pull me out of myself and into the right headspace.<br />
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So many people in my life have seemed to think they can hang out with me and chat while I write or that I can just pop up and swing by in the middle of the day because I don't have a "real job" and I find that endlessly infuriating.</div>
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I've lost a handful of friends over the years who can't comprehend that I can't drop everything any day of the week to talk on the phone or whatever simply because I'm home and not in some office cubicle.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art: Robin Eisenberg</td></tr>
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I may not make a lot of money writing (which I don't even have a problem with because I'm so much happier than when I did make money on other people's sets or doing graphic design) and I may not drive to a soul-sucking job everyday but that doesn't mean I don't work. I work my ass off. (I joke that I'm lazy but that's really a cover. I'm a workaholic perfectionist who has to force myself to stop so I don't get bleeding ulcers like I did in college.)</div>
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Heck, I overdid it so much on my last edit working 8 hours a day everyday Monday through Friday that I had little time to balance rest, fun, and chores, often sacrificing some or all. By the end of it I completely burned myself out and needed isolated self-care for a solid week.</div>
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I love writing. (I don't love editing but that's another story.) I don't even really care if no one reads my words - though it would, of course, be nice if they do - but ultimately I love the process of putting pen to paper and conjuring tales. And I live for those moments when my ego melts away and the story starts writing itself, my hand barely able to keep up with the flow of words tumbling from my brain.</div>
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Those moments are pure joy.</div>
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They are my life's breath.</div>
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So, yes, I don't have a "real job" but that doesn't mean I'm doing nothing or that I can be at anyone's beck and call any time they want. And I will banish those who attempt to force their will upon me and try to pull me away from the one thing that keeps the demons at bay.</div>
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Writing is life.</div>
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Everything else is a hobby.</div>
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Even my small business.</div>
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Unless it keeps growing... But writing will always be my first love (and, incidentally, being alone will always trump the alternative - until I reach that critical mass and my social side rears its animalistic head seeking like-minded souls to conjure with).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art: Robin Eisenberg</td></tr>
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This all came to a head because I told someone recently that Mondays weren't good for me and their reply was basically: "But you don't work so you're always free." </div>
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That one sentence burrowed under my skin and pissed me off. I am not always free. Monday is my day of solitude to contemplate my week and prepare. I need that time to set my goals, tidy the house, and recharge from the weekend. Moreover, even if I wasn't busy with those things or writing or working on American Witch, even if I just wanted a day to myself, how dare anyone presume that because I don't have a day job that I'm just completely available to them any time at the drop of a hat? And I really shouldn't have to justify how I spend my time to anyone. It's my life. I can do whatever I want with it and owe no one any explanations. However, I just wanted to lay it all on the line. I'm not sitting on the couch all day eating Cheetos and watching Netflix. I'm building something. Call it a career, call it a brand, call it whatever you want, but it takes time, and patience, a lot of hard work, and the right atmosphere to create.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art: Robin Eisenberg</td></tr>
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It's not even about that one person, they merely broke the camel's back. There have been many over the years... Like one who would drop by and, when I would say that I was writing, they'd reply, "Oh, that's fine, you can keep writing while I talk to you." LOLWUT? That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.</div>
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So forgive me if I'm not always available or can't reply immediately. Such is the life of the creative. It's not personal. I still love you. I just need some space. (And you really don't want to be on the receiving end of me having a tantrum because I'm interrupted during a flow moment. It's not pretty.)</div>
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Thanks for reading my rant. I just needed to vent. I'll post a nice poem next time.</div>
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Maybe.</div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-71786373979996679622019-05-17T15:20:00.003-07:002019-05-31T17:23:30.003-07:00To Blog, or Not to Blog?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hiya.<br />
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It's been awhile since I blogged.<br />
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Does anyone blog anymore? I mean like in the old school sense of basically keeping a public diary to rant into the void, or is it all about politics and make-up tutorials now? Not that there's anything wrong with either of those, it's just that sometimes one wants to share their innermost thoughts without having a hidden agenda -- be that making money or whatever else motivates one to write online. Sometimes the agenda is just to purge my brain of thoughts with the hopes that even one person reads it and gets me.<br />
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I don't even know if anyone ever visits this page anymore it's been so long since I've updated it. I popped in the other day and found loads of broken links. In fact, I'm still sorting those out...<br />
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But if you did find your way here, welcome!<br />
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Sorry I've been absent from my own internet home. I've been spending a lot of time on social media lately and that sort of filled the need to be validated online, leaving this place abandoned.<br />
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Also, I had a terrible thing happen to me a few years back around the time I stopped blogging. Certainly that's not a coincidence...<br />
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I'm not at liberty to discuss what happened because it involves someone else and I was mostly fallout or collateral damage, but it pulled the rug out from under me and shattered my heart.<br />
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I had to go into hiding for awhile to heal and re-find myself.<br />
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Along that journey, I fell into a whole new community that embraced me with totally open arms and, for the first time in my life, made me feel truly welcome and, dare I say, normal.<br />
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I've always been kind of weird since I was a kid. I preferred staying in to read on weekend nights in high school instead of partying. I took everything super seriously from my grades to my teenage angst.<br />
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Many times when I would attempt to socialize, I'd be told I was "too much" or said "weird things" and once someone even told me I'd fit in better if I just sat there looking pretty and kept my mouth shut.<br />
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For years I tried to fit in, but I never did.<br />
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I won't bore you with all the details of why I didn't fit in, but I'll tell you where I found myself: in the witchcraft, psychic, & medium communities.<br />
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While you can be a witch without being a psychic or medium, and vice versa, there's a lot of overlap and I'm somewhere in the middle.<br />
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Part of me would like to say I never would have seen myself in this community, but that's a lie. There's been foreshadowing my whole life.<br />
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When I was 3, my grandfather passed away. I walked into my grandmother's room and asked her, "Why are you crying?" She told me it was because grandpa was gone. But he wasn't gone. I pointed to a chair in the corner of the room and said something to the effect of, "No, he's not. He's right over there." She stopped crying and I never saw her cry over him again. She also never dated again and whenever suitors would come calling, she'd tell them she was still married.<br />
<br />
As I grew up, I learned about the Salem witch trials, as most every kid does growing up in Massachusetts. I was so intrigued. (Many years later, I would also discover that an ancestor of mine was hanged in the 1600s during the the time of the witch hunts.)<br />
<br />
When I turned 12 my Mum gave me my very first tarot deck, the Mythic Tarot by Juliet Sharman-Burke. I started giving readings only to myself, then practiced on my friends. Nearly every time I gave scarily accurate readings, and often went off book as thoughts would pop into my head. I could pull things from their minds, secrets they'd told no one. I assumed it was all in the cards. I didn't realize until many years later that it was all coming from me and that the cards were merely a tool to help awaken a natural gift.<br />
<br />
I've also always had an affinity for all things nature. I'd go for long walks in the woods and hug trees. There was a lane beside my grandma's house and we'd walk down to this small pond. Near it was a giant boulder that I used to love to climb on. My grandma would say things like, "If you listen closely, you can hear the spirits of the Indians who used to live here." I'd close my eyes and lay back on the rock and I could hear them.<br />
<br />
She'd also tell me that fairies lived in the moss and when it rained they came out to dance under the mushrooms that sprouted up. I swore I could see them. I created whole fantasies around them like how if you were suddenly missing something that you were absolutely positive you remembered putting away, it was the fae who carried them off. When the wind would blow and whip through the trees in the back yard, I imagined I could hear the clinking of tin cups and pocket watches and whatever else they stole and hung up in the branches as decorations in their fairyland.<br />
<br />
I was also always intrigued by things like Norse, Greek, and Egyptian mythologies, gods, and magick without ever even considering that those things could be considered witchy. I was drawn to the likes of Athena, Odin, Isis, and Neptune. Having not been raised religious, I didn't necessarily believe that gods were real, but rather a focus point of energy that you could tap into in times of need. For example, whenever I was stuck on a writing project, I'd summon up Odin in my mind to help me find the right words. (Later I'd discover Erich von Daniken and Ancient Aliens and wonder if gods were really misconstrued alien visitors, but that's a whole other conversation...)<br />
<br />
Regardless, fast forward to a couple years ago, I found myself drawn back to all those things in my search for myself and, after studying all of the above and more with many teachers, mentors, and friends, I'm slowly crawling out of my self imposed shell.<br />
<br />
I started an Instagram called American Witch 13 meant to share updates on a documentary I was working on with Scarlett Amaris, as well as silly witch memes and tips & tricks I've picked up along my journey. I only expected to get about 500 followers. Somehow that's blossomed into over 10k and I don't even know how that happened! Now that I have a mini platform, I plan on using it for good by helping others who felt like me growing up to find their own community and support system.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQUAyDsY2dZjPajHGdw0KJ9P1O6v_rm_brxtiIv2yNT0ZEIjYTyNLGbNsbtuViyfPZm4qRBUosB9Rbae7AzSimd5_lIK8YvllpZJvZgo7NDQTAnVvMraufdc9y1yy1-asmAb5/s1600/American+Witch+logo+avatar+text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1018" data-original-width="1018" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQUAyDsY2dZjPajHGdw0KJ9P1O6v_rm_brxtiIv2yNT0ZEIjYTyNLGbNsbtuViyfPZm4qRBUosB9Rbae7AzSimd5_lIK8YvllpZJvZgo7NDQTAnVvMraufdc9y1yy1-asmAb5/s320/American+Witch+logo+avatar+text.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
So, if you ever want to talk spell-crafting, psychic development, or seances come find me here: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/americanwitch13/">https://www.instagram.com/americanwitch13/</a> -- a safe place to share all your wild thoughts without fear of judgment.<br />
<br />
If you're here because you've read one of my books, poems, or articles, well, you're in luck because I plan on releasing more...<br />
<br />
I'm in the process of finishing the editing on a 100k+ word scifi cyberpunk space opera, which I hope to get traditionally published (once the editor finishes, I'll begin the epic search for an agent and/or publisher). I'm also thinking of asking a handful of friends to read it, so if I know you irl and you're into that sort of thing, lemme know!<br />
<br />
I've also been writing poetry again, so I'll probably start posting those here as the mood strikes me.<br />
<br />
And I'm preparing to re-publish In the Now in a few months -- I just need to give it a quick update.<br />
<br />
If you haven't read any of my other books, you can find them here:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<h2>
<i>The Saurimonde Series</i></h2>
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
by<br />Melissa St. Hilaire<br />& Scarlett Amaris</h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<table style="width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CPU3PO6/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00CPU3PO6&linkCode=as2&tag=melissast.hil-20&linkId=c5d45dc3df3152bc8556213e8dc97da7" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=B00CPU3PO6&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL250_&tag=melissast.hil-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=melissast.hil-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B00CPU3PO6" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></td><td><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00OKUHOLY/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00OKUHOLY&linkCode=as2&tag=melissast.hil-20&linkId=5b4aee2255da6b7f2d28e23c2c394dee" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=B00OKUHOLY&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL250_&tag=melissast.hil-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=melissast.hil-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B00OKUHOLY" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></td><td><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01BQZ7ZF0/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01BQZ7ZF0&linkCode=as2&tag=melissast.hil-20&linkId=b8caa97b648f932e4217c5b8c0dc083c" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=B01BQZ7ZF0&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL250_&tag=melissast.hil-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=melissast.hil-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B01BQZ7ZF0" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
I've also decided to partner with Amazon to become an influencer (I know, I know -- cringe!). But my goal with it is to provide a one stop shop for witches and psychics -- from novice to expert -- to find products and books that will enhance their craft and practice. I'll only post recommendations on books I've read and products I've purchase on Amazon that I feel are worth it. I also added fun witchy entertainment because why the hell not? (I still have so much stuff to add but you can see what I've got up so far: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/shop/AmericanWitch13">https://www.amazon.com/shop/AmericanWitch13</a>)<br />
<br />
I've had to do an awful lot of research on this path of becoming a witch, psychic, and medium and I'd like to share what I've learned with anyone interested (and recommend the best sources be they books or even teachers I've studied under) -- all things I wish I had known at a younger age growing up in a tiny, rural town before the dawn of social media.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
If you've made it this far and read my rambling tome, I thank you! I've got about 3 years of thoughts backlogged in my brain that I'll need to download over the coming months be they projects, poems, stories, or the nonsensical ravings of a lunatic mind. You've been warned. 😜<br />
<br />
Much love,<br />
Mel<br />
<br /></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-49836366515698826222016-11-15T20:20:00.001-08:002016-11-16T16:21:15.967-08:00Keep Writing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Writing a book can sometimes become maddening after prolonged isolation. Even if you pepper in a couple other projects, you still need to spend countless hours alone with your thoughts. You may look like you're gardening or washing the dishes or playing video games (Doom has been consuming me of late), but all the while you're writing. Like globs of clay morphing into recognizable forms, characters grow and advance while you're busy doing other things. Then you need even more alone time to pull those threads from your mind so you can weave them into the great tapestry of your tale.<br />
<br />
I told myself I was going to force myself into this isolation in order to finish my book after having a giant, months-long dent in my timeline. (Buying a house and moving took a heck of a lot more work than I ever imagined.)<br />
<br />
During the time in which we were moving, I was talking to tons of people daily while running around either packing or unpacking. Constantly on the go. Constantly socializing.<br />
<br />
But then once we settled in, I realized I had more time to myself and could finally get back to writing.<br />
<br />
And so far it's been working. I've finished another 25% of the story and have 25% to go.<br />
<br />
Yet now, it's been a few weeks of long stretches of alone time, and I'm starting to feel that old, familiar feeling.<br />
<br />
The one that creeps up on you...<br />
<br />
Makes you wonder...<br />
<br />
Am I completely bonkers?<br />
<br />
Here I have cut myself off from a bunch of social events, and doing pretty much anything else, all to write this book.<br />
<br />
I could be writing more articles for magazines and, maybe, making a little money too.<br />
<br />
I could be submitting more poetry or, perhaps even, short stories to anthologies.<br />
<br />
I could be trying to get a staff writing job on a TV show and work my way up.<br />
<br />
I could be out there networking and meeting other writers and creators with whom to collaborate.<br />
<br />
But instead I'm alone in my office staring at the blank page as I beckon words to bubble forth from my mind onto the page below.<br />
<br />
Is it worth it? (Yes.)<br />
<br />
Do I have to do this? (Yes.)<br />
<br />
Will anyone read this? (Doesn't matter.)<br />
<br />
There's a story in my brain that needs out.<br />
<br />
There's a gang of characters that keep whispering their dialogue to me.<br />
<br />
My inner eye lights up like a movie screen.<br />
<br />
I must keep writing.<br />
<br />
Even if the world crumbles into chaos beyond these walls.<br />
<br />
Keep writing.<br />
<br /></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-85265451281256923932016-10-14T10:23:00.000-07:002016-10-14T10:23:05.529-07:00Why I'm Voting for Hillary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
I know my Bernie or bust friends will disagree with me, but here's why I'm voting for Hillary...<br />
<br />
I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror if Trump became President and I didn't do everything in my power to stop it.<br />
<br />
I don't have much power but I have a blog.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to get into all the political platform details, but — in a nutshell — I cannot vote for a racist misogynist who wants to punish all women who get abortions, build a wall, and deport all Muslims.<br />
<br />
What's next? Crucify all atheists? Burn witches? Where does the hate end? How many personal freedoms and rights are we willing to sacrifice because some of us don't like Her?<br />
<br />
I'm not going to go into defending Hillary (you can go to her <a href="https://www.hillaryclinton.com/feed/112-reasons-and-counting-hillary-clinton-should-be-our-next-president/" target="_blank">website</a> for that). All I'll say is I'd rather have Her in the White House than any other valid option at present and here's the reason why:<br />
<br />
Several years ago I went to a well known horror bookshop in LA. Upon meeting the owner he asked me what I did. I said aspiring screenwriter. Completely deadpan and without hesitation, he replied that I should get a job as a stripper then.<br />
<br />
What?<br />
<br />
Oh, I'm sorry, does the fact that I have boobs and a vagina negate that film degree I received from Boston College?<br />
<br />
Am I so invaluable as a woman that it's OK to publicly humiliate me in front of my peers?<br />
<br />
He didn't make wisecracks to any of the men around me. He discussed seriously the merits of horror writing and filmmaking with them. I was the only joke. I was the only non-respected human in the bunch.<br />
<br />
I felt slapped in the face.<br />
<br />
I have never gone into that store again despite the fact that I love the merchandise.<br />
<br />
If you can't look me in the eye and take me seriously as a woman, as a human being, as an equal... If you can only see my value as a naked body writhing on stage, then I have no time for you. No patience.<br />
<br />
You cannot grab me by the pussy.<br />
<br />
I'm with Her.</div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-33874394064271336912016-09-09T15:54:00.000-07:002016-09-09T15:54:28.081-07:00September Sadness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Can we just take a moment to talk about seasonal depression?<br />
<br />
<i>But before I get into that, allow me to reiterate something...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>For those of you who have followed my writing/blogging/nonsensical ravings of a lunatic mind for years, you know that I was misdiagnosed and medicated for clinical depression for many years and had a meltdown while on Cymbalta. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>As it turned out, my initial diagnosis of depression was based on the fact that I was experiencing multiple anxiety attacks per day, not because I was...sad, which I wasn't.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The doctor merely said, "Anxiety is a symptom of depression, thus you're depressed. Here take these pills and go on your way."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Well, the pills made everything worse even though she kept pushing new ones on me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Regardless, after years of struggle, I was re-diagnosed as having, essentially, a really poor diet and unhealthy habits, which contributed to the anxiety, not to mention having moved 3,000 miles away from home. I was not "clinically depressed."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>However, all that doesn't mean that I'm impervious to feeling depressed from time to time.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And, speaking of time, that brings me back around to seasonal depression.</i><br />
<br />
Here it is — September, shortly after labor day and I'm sitting in my back yard wearing a tank top and shorts with the hot sun shining down on me. Fall in Southern California isn't like fall in Massachusetts, where I grew up. Back East, fall hits you over the head with its arrival. Leaves turn vivid color and the air grows crisp, but here in LA the change is subtle. While the days still bring beach weather, the nights run mildly cooler. In fact, you might need a light jacket or long sleeved shirt when you go out, though you can probably still get away with shorts and sandals.<br />
<br />
So why am I depressed if the change is so damn subtle?<br />
<br />
I honestly don't know.<br />
<br />
It's been many years since I went to school, so that can't be it.<br />
<br />
I do have a handful of sad anniversaries that fall into the latter part of August that might pave the way for seasonal depression, but that doesn't account for the years of it prior to those sad events occurring.<br />
<br />
Nothing in my schedule changes with the coming of Fall.<br />
<br />
Granted, I had a big change this year in moving out of my Koreatown apartment of a zillion years to finally owning my own home over the hills just slightly beyond the NoHo border, but that fills me with joy, not sadness.<br />
<br />
Yes, I miss certain aspects of living so close to downtown LA, Hollywood, The Grove, and Larchmont, but the valley has plenty to offer for shopping, dining, day tripping, and entertainment.<br />
<br />
So what is it?<br />
<br />
I have no complaints.<br />
<br />
I love my life.<br />
<br />
I love my husband.<br />
<br />
I love my cats.<br />
<br />
I love my house.<br />
<br />
I love my yard.<br />
<br />
I love my friends and family both near and far.<br />
<br />
I'm actually the most content in life I've ever been.<br />
<br />
So why this September Sadness?<br />
<br />
I'm seriously asking. It's not rhetorical.<br />
<br />
And it's even weirder because Autumn is really my favorite time of year. Comfy sweaters, hot apple cider, carving pumpkins, and Halloween.<br />
<br />
I mean, I got married on Halloween if that give you an idea of how much I love it.<br />
<br />
Is it merely the sense of another waning year in the ever present march toward death that all of life is?<br />
<br />
I know that's morbid, but it's also true.<br />
<br />
Nothing that lives, lives forever. (But, man, if they invented something that changed that, I'd be first in line to try it.)<br />
<br />
I thought I was feeling depressed because, since the move, I've spent a ridiculous amount of time unpacking, organizing, rearranging, and generally settling into the house without much time for fun or writing. So I told myself, enough with that — get back to video games and writing (my typical routine).<br />
<br />
But so far the change has only made a small difference.<br />
<br />
I told myself it must be the anniversary of my favorite cat dying, or my dearly departed friend, or my step-mother — and while those contributed, there's more to it.<br />
<br />
And this happens every year at this time no matter what's going on in my life.<br />
<br />
I'm usually over it by mid-October.<br />
<br />
It's my September Sadness.<br />
<br />
Am I the only one? (I mustn't be since there is such a thing as 'Seasonal affective disorder (SAD).')<br />
<br />
Do you get it too?<br />
<br />
What do you do to get out of your Fall funk?<br />
<br /></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-19567944650961587512016-03-07T06:23:00.000-08:002016-04-07T05:21:28.748-07:00New Book, New Podcast Episode, and other Nonsense<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Well, we did it! We wrote another book in the Saurimonde series officially making it a trilogy! *pops champagne* *accidently breaks chandelier* *laughs it off guzzling the bubbly*<br />
<br />
And now you can win 1 of 4 free signed paperback copies from the Goodreads giveaway contest (enter to win below in the widget):<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
</h2>
<div style="float: left;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29361516"><img alt="Saurimonde III by Melissa St. Hilaire" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1456702738l/29361516.jpg" title="Saurimonde III by Melissa St. Hilaire" width="100" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29361516">Saurimonde III</a>
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<h4 style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0 0 10px; padding: 0;">
by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5822220.Melissa_St_Hilaire" style="text-decoration: none;">Melissa St. Hilaire</a>
</h4>
<div class="giveaway_details">
Giveaway ends May 06, 2016.
<br />
See the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/177054" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
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<a class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink" href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/177054">Enter Giveaway</a>
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<br />
<b>Saurimonde III synopsis:</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Safety is but an illusion... </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
In the search for a young woman who may already be dead, the tragically lovely Saurimonde, along with her handsome consort, Sordel, travel deep within the mysterious zone where she comes under the spell of the powerful high priestess, Na Dag'ma, who, after initiating her into their strange faith, sends her on a quest to find a dangerous ancient relic. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
Amid a quagmire of lies, duplicity, and collusion, the veil between worlds becomes threadbare – one existence bleeding into another – as Saurimonde and Sordel wander further into a supernatural web. Upon finding what they seek, will they be able to break free? Or be forced to become the ultimate sacrifice?</blockquote>
If you haven't read the first two you can find them here:<br />
<br />
<b>Saurimonde I</b> - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saurimonde-Melissa-St-Hilaire-ebook/dp/B00CPU3PO6/">http://www.amazon.com/Saurimonde-Melissa-St-Hilaire-ebook/dp/B00CPU3PO6/</a><br />
<br />
<b>Saurimonde II</b> - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saurimonde-II-Melissa-St-Hilaire-ebook/dp/B00OKUHOLY/">http://www.amazon.com/Saurimonde-II-Melissa-St-Hilaire-ebook/dp/B00OKUHOLY/</a><br />
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However, while the book does refer back to previous events, I think the story stands on its own so you can dive into our strange world without having read the previous books.<br />
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We also recorded a new episode of Between the Sheets:<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/247243926&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
In our sixteenth episode we try to get back into the swing of things after our month long break with: a show dedicated to wine lovers, like how red wine is great for sex, as well as another book by Mandy De Sandra, <i>Fox News Fuckfest</i>, for all your bizzaro political erotica needs! (And, yes, we forgot to turn off the A/C at the BTS studios again, damn it!)</blockquote>
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Lastly, now that Saurimonde III is complete and the tragic distractions of last year are now in the past, I will once again jump into my epic scifi novel, Xodus, that I've been dying to finish. I can't wait to get back to Lexi and her strange band of misfit cadets and aliens as they do battle to save the Earth.<br />
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<br />
On a personal front, we've been house shopping and, man, that is crazy hard out here in La La Land. You find the perfect house that you, omg, actually can afford, blink, and *poof* it's gone. It's ridiculous! So, we've expanded our search beyond our original parameters into areas previously unknown, which is both exhilarating and downright frightening.<br />
<br />
We found this one house in NoHo that's kind of cute and, if we were to buy it, I could see being even cuter with a little landscaping TLC, yet, even though I'm dying to move, I find myself becoming crippled with the thought of actually moving.<br />
<br />
For instance, last night I could not get to sleep tossing and turning with thoughts of, "But if we move, from where will we order pizza? Is there a Trader Joe's nearby? How far will I be from my dentist? (I mean seriously, it's crazy hard finding a really good dentist, you know?)"<br />
<br />
In spite of that, my mind is equally spinning out in the other direction going, "If we got that NoHo house, I'd plant some nice succulents along the pathway to the entrance and throw down some stepping stones. Then maybe I'd plant a fruit tree in the back. Oh! And I could create a gaming/exercise room. How cool would that be?" I will never sleep again.<br />
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So, if I seem a little spacey and don't reply to emails, texts, phone calls, FB messages, or smoke signals right away, don't take it personally! I'm just hermitting myself away creatively while also finding a new cave within which to hermit. (Though I do hope to crawl out into the light of day every now and then, down a bottle of wine, and record a new podcast!)<br />
<br />
Until next time...<br />
<br />
M.S.<br />
L.A.<br />
March 2016</div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-84525294331710917962016-01-20T12:22:00.000-08:002016-01-20T12:36:57.000-08:00Another Year, Another Blog (Or David Bowie & the Golden Globes)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing on the Red Carpet</td></tr>
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I haven't blogged in awhile. Do people even still read blogs? Seems like Facebook posts about what we're eating for lunch or what new shoes we bought or how much we either love or hate a political candidate permeates the web more so than a well thought out blog post these days. Meh. So what? Some days I miss the Internet of yore where only a few nerds gathered to discuss fandoms or JavaScripts, but those days are gone and we must embrace the present – an egalitarian Internet where any and all can share their views no matter how mundane or idiotic (or profound and intelligent).<br />
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Do I seem like I'm in a bad mood? If so, I do apologize. I'm getting over a horrible cold I picked up while attending the Golden Globes after party.<br />
<br />
If you’ve been following me for a while, then you probably know that sometimes I get to do ridiculous things like go to the big Golden Globes after parties at the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills, CA. I know, it all seems so glamorous, and it is, but if you’re not a mega movie star, you might as well be invisible when you’re at these kinds of events. Doesn’t stop me from having a good time, though!<br />
<br />
At first, we almost didn’t even go because my friend who can get me into these things was feeling sick. I encouraged him to consume mass quantities of medicine and go anyway. Perhaps a mistake in hindsight? Regardless, we had a blast until a black cloud descended on the evening, but more on that later…<br />
<br />
First off, as I’ve mentioned, we’ve gone to these in the past. Typically, they run smoothly. Not so this year.<br />
<br />
Instead of lining up outside the hotel and picking up credentials right at the entrance, as they’ve done in the past, we had to queue in a parking garage this year, which might not seem like that big of a deal, but as you’ll soon see, it was kind of a disaster…<br />
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<br />
OK, so in that pic you see the massive line to get through the security devices (squares at top right) which then herds everyone in another line to wait for a (tiny) shuttle which delivers us to the Hilton. We were instructed that we could not walk to the Hilton or arrive in any other fashion. We had no choice but to wait in line on a concrete floor for hours as we slowly filtered through security and then awaited our shuttle.<br />
<br />
I know, I know “first world problems,” but still… Last year we just waited in line outside the hotel, which moved fairly quickly, then we retrieved our passes at the front door, walked through security, and blamo – we were in the main hub of all the parties. Took about 45 minutes max. However, this year with the added parking garage/shuttle business, it took us about 2 hours to make it from parking the car to entering the main lobby.<br />
<br />
As a result, I missed seeing my better half, who just so happened to be working at the Globes that night, so perhaps I took it more personally this year, but still – it was poorly organized. Also, as a result, we missed our first chance to enter the InStyle party, which I had not been able to attend in the past and which was considered an important party to get to early in the evening. We made it there eventually, but I’ll get to that, as it coincides with the previously mentioned black cloud.<br />
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So, here we are, my friend, who is battling a terrible cold and sore throat, and myself dutifully waiting in a forever line just to get to the shuttle which will take us to the party.<br />
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Oh! I forgot one thing. See, we actually arrived early and could have been practically the first two people on that shuttle, but – and here’s the big but (I like big butts and I cannot lie/You other brothers can't deny/That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist/And a round thing in your face/You get sprung, sorry tangent, blame the wine I’m currently guzzling) – for the first time since we started attending the Globes after parties we finally received the much coveted invite to the Weinstein party BUT they were late with tickets. All the other big parties like NBC Universal, Amazon, HBO, etc. were there already set up with stacks of tickets for us to pick up but not Weinstein. Thus, we were forced to wait by the Weinstein table as we watched the line for security grow and grow… By the time the tickets arrived, there was an angry, well dressed mob pushing and shoving their way to the front because, y’know, it’s Hollywood and EVERYONE is sooooo important.<br />
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Anyway, we finally got our tickets and ran (well, my friend ran, I was in heels, I trotted) to the end of the line where we proceeded to panic about how long it would take to get in. I actually had fun kind of zoning out and people watching. Tons of VERY IMPORTANT people tried cutting the line, but were turned away. For some awful reason, that filled me with glee.<br />
<br />
As I stood on the concrete floor doing the “pee dance” in my cheap, uncomfortable heels, I wondered how long until I found a bathroom. Finally, we reached the front of the parking garage line, went through security, and were herded into a claustrophobic, nightmare hallway leading to the shuttle pick up. The lighting was horrendously ugly fluorescents which flickered like a David Lynch set. I watched in delight as all us girls checked our makeup in compacts only to be horrified at our green skin and snap the compacts shut with a grimace. The ladies in front of me chatted about how terrible everything was as they vaped medical marijuana. (I’m pretty sure I got a contact high. I mean, the hallway was crazy tiny! And everything suddenly seemed funny.)<br />
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After a few more incredibly long minutes, we followed the cattle out to the shuttle. Once on board, I thought, cool, we’ll get there wicked fast now. Not so much! We entered traffic from hell. No one wanted to let a shuttle into the lane as they all hurried to the parking garage or wherever they were going… It was insane, yet funny to listen to all these junior agents in training bitch the whole way over to the red carpet how they were going to miss Jennifer Lawrence or whoever. I didn’t really care anymore at this point. All that kept going through my head was, “Don’t pee. Don’t pee. Don’t pee.”<br />
<br />
Finally, we pulled up to the red carpet. Relief splashed over me. Bathroom!! But the doors didn’t open. We had to sit and wait. Why? Who knows. But while waiting, I saw Amy Schumer cross in front of us toward the Weinstein party. In my contact high state, I announced said fact to the entire bus, which propelled the junior agents into more turmoil as they peered out the front window begging to be let off.<br />
<br />
The doors opened. We scrambled out. Found the red carpet and followed it to the main lobby. Stars filed past us on the left and the right. I’d tell you who they were if I remembered, but my focus was on my bladder. We made it to the InStyle entrance and there was the blessed bathroom.<br />
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Once refreshed, we attempted to get in touch with our contact for InStyle. See, we had tickets for some of the parties, but for others we needed our escort. Unfortunately, she was busy so we had to decide to either wait around or try one of the other parties for which we had tickets. I pressed for attending the Weinstein party, because hello?!? Weinstein party!!! I figured, if we stood around and waited we could lose half the night, or just go and throw caution to the wind, y’know?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weinstein party! (Or stroke the furry wall.)</td></tr>
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We trekked our way back down the long red carpet, passed the shuttle, and entered the ramp to the Weinstein party – the hottest ticket of the night. On our way in, I caught a glimpse of Ridley Scott hanging out – highlight of the night! Others ahead of us were turned away, but we got in without a hitch. As we passed the coat check on our left, I noticed the paparazzi to the right near the backdrop where a girl in a red dress with long blonde hair, who I recognized as one of the ones demanding to be able to cut the line earlier, was getting photographed. She had screamed, “Don’t you know who I am?” Honestly, no.<br />
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Once inside we were immediately greeted with pounding bass and free drinks. Yay!<br />
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We wandered through the throngs of partygoers checking out the scene and scouring for notable celebrities. I saw Jaime Foxx taking pics, Aziz Ansari chatting near a doorway, and one of the Weinsteins making the rounds (I thought it was Bob, but was later told it was Harvey. *shrug*). We finally made our way to the bar where I ordered a gin and tonic, but the tonic was crazy flat so I abandoned the drink, then dragged my friend over to a side area where gift bag booths were set up. Free stuff!! My favorite.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#moetmoment</td></tr>
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After having a “Moet moment” (they asked me to hashtag that), I passed by some expensive looking jewelry to a makeup bar. Yes. Free makeup! It was Laura Mercier, which I had never heard of before, since I’m not a big makeup person, but I do love free stuff. After having tried it, though, I must confess it’s pretty top notch. I especially like the lipstick colors and the gloss, though the 'smudge stick' is excellent, too.<br />
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At some point during my champagne fueled “grab all the free stuff” moment, my friend heard from his friend about the InStyle party. They made plans to meet up later so we could check that party out, and grab tickets to the HBO party. Meanwhile, we decided to go investigate the Amazon party. To be honest, I was the one mainly pushing for this as I had recently discovered and marathoned 2 seasons of Mozart in the Jungle and was pretty excited they won. I had hoped to meet some of the cast, but, alas, by the time we made it to the Amazon party it was pretty dead. We did a quick perimeter, then made a detour to the dancefloor because Deee-Lite was playing and I was pretty drunk and, well, let’s face it, I can’t really deny Deee-Lite even when stone-cold sober.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this show.</td></tr>
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As we exited, I noticed that the couches were adorned with pillows embroidered with Amazon. I totally wanted to steal one, but didn’t out of fear. Later that night I met a guy who took two of them. Two!!! Without a single consequence. Next time Amazon, next time…<br />
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Oh my god, I completely forgot to mention something… Before leaving the Weinstein party, one of my stupid shoes broke. Like the bottom half just split apart from the rest of the shoe. I could flap my foot and make it look like a puppet opening its mouth. I went through a range of emotions: denial, plea bargaining, embarrassment, and finally acceptance. I took off my decade (2 decades?) old Chilis heels and walked around barefoot, trying to not step in spilled hors d'oeuvres. After discussing what the best course of action would be, my friend suggested we ask Concierge for help. There, a young man named Devin glued my damn shoe back together and saved the rest of the night. Thank you forever, Devin! The Beverly Hilton totally owes that guy a raise.<br />
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So, anyway, we leave Amazon, sans pillows, and head over to the InStyle party finally. Once inside, we were kind of disappointed. Heralded as the party not to miss during previous Globes, this year it was a dud compared to the raucous affair the Weinsteins’ held.<br />
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However, right off the bat we saw a table with VR headsets we could demo from River Studios. It was pretty cool and, I admit, it made me want one of the Samsung headsets, but no VR I’ve ever tried is as cool as it seems like it could be. I dunno, maybe I’ve read too much scifi and watched too many movies, but I want to be wholly transported to another realm where I can battle zombies or whatever. None ever really seem up to snuff.<br />
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Regardless, I decided to order another drink, margarita this time, because I can’t help myself around free stuff. I also grabbed some snacks from the caterer because I decided all that free booze on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Drinks and snacks in hand, we headed to the dance floor. That’s when my friend checked his phone and the black cloud descended.<br />
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“Noooo,” he exclaimed.<br />
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“What?” I asked washing down a spinach croissant with tequila.<br />
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His hand seemed to involuntarily cover his mouth. His eyes were wide.<br />
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“What?!” I pleaded.<br />
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He showed me headlines from his phone. “David Bowie dead at 69.”<br />
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“What?” I said again, clearly unable to speak any other word.<br />
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I quickly finished my croissant and put down my drink as I pulled my phone out of my tiny bag. I immediately went to Feedly. Bowie dead. I checked Twitter and Facebook. The same. All thoughts of ‘this must be a hoax’ vanished from my mind.<br />
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I thought of the Goblin King, and 80s Bowie dancing in the streets, of Bowie on tour with Trent Reznor, of Iman, of his kids. Bowie. An icon. A legend. Dead? How could it be real?<br />
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My friend and I stared at each other. I fought back tears. Music blared around us as twenty-somethings pumped and gyrated. How could they dance? How could they do anything? I felt floored. A huge part of my childhood gone. I grew up listening to my Mum’s cassettes of Bowie. I wore out my copy of Changesbowie. I adored the Goblin King. Like you don’t even understand how much I loved him, how much my childhood imagination wanted him to be real, how I was simultaneously fascinated and terrified of him. And those tights. Ahem…<br />
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Unsure what to think, feel, or say, I turned to my friend and said, “Hey, this party is lame. Wanna check out HBO really quick and then head back to Weinstein?”<br />
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He nodded in agreement.<br />
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We walked solemnly out into the lobby then crossed over to the stairs leading to the pool where the HBO party was. Music filled the room. Bowie. I pushed my way to the dancefloor with my friend in tow. I kicked off my glued shoes and let loose to a medley of Bowie tunes. I cried some more and exchanged awkward glances with fellow partygoers seemingly feeling the same sadness.<br />
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Once the music switched over from Bowie to hip-hop, my friend and I decided to bolt and head back to Weinstein.<br />
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Once back it was obvious the party was simultaneously winding down and only filled with drunk people. I passed by barefooted girls in cocktail dresses dancing on couches and coffee tables looking for more free stuff. I filled my pockets with Lindt chocolate and a Moet glass filled to the brim.<br />
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We danced with strangers until the night was over and we had to find a shuttle back to the garage.<br />
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On our way home, I demanded we stop at Astro because I was stupid hungry.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmm garden burger deluxe ftw!</td></tr>
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All in all, it was a fun-filled evening, despite the dark cloud of Bowie’s passing overhead.<br />
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The following day I watched Bowie videos culminating in Lazarus, which left me sobbing uncontrollably.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Oh I’ll be free/Just like that bluebird/Oh I’ll be free/Ain’t that just like me"</span></center>
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Last year I lost my stepmother to cancer. I saw what it does to a human body, a mind; I saw how it tears a family apart in anger, grief, and frustration. Whether you’re a retired mom in Florida or a pop icon, cancer is a horrible way to go. We need to find a cure, we need a prevention, we need a reprieve.<br />
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Since then, and before, we’ve lost so many. 2016 has started out a dark, somber year. Let’s try to not let it get the best of us. Let’s try to make the most of each moment we have alive. Let’s dance, magic, dance.<br />
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In other news, part of the reason I haven’t blogged much is Scarlett and I are wrapping up our third installment of the Saurimonde series. I think this is my favorite of the bunch so far. It’s fun and crazy and dark and sexy. Stay tuned! (We just decided on a cover image last night!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj911HD4WemPA8kRU4Q7pzJokabopRi_cj8F8W0jsKnnOqDhh_wTJ_ek4DGP7gCe1Kcd0jl4F7pyuXuKAxW0E7htiFUCMXrNJZuWEI6idC4Go__EfVh5ep_LK29JkzgPAy1Nz35/s1600/SaurimondeIIICoverProof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj911HD4WemPA8kRU4Q7pzJokabopRi_cj8F8W0jsKnnOqDhh_wTJ_ek4DGP7gCe1Kcd0jl4F7pyuXuKAxW0E7htiFUCMXrNJZuWEI6idC4Go__EfVh5ep_LK29JkzgPAy1Nz35/s640/SaurimondeIIICoverProof.jpg" width="417" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneak Preview of Work in Progress</td></tr>
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Also, we’ve been podcasting. Here’s our most recent episode with another coming soon:<br />
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/239765696&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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Cheers,<br />
Mel xox<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Goodbye, Jareth, the Goblin King</b></td></tr>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-26629833528174354872015-08-29T11:07:00.002-07:002015-09-01T12:17:02.879-07:00The Infinite Void (poem)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What is life?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What is consciousness?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">What comes before?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What comes after?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nothing</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eternity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">All that is</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or ever was</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or a darkness so black</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A sleep so deep</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">What?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">All the pain subsides</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All the fear</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All the worry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">What of joy</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love Laughter</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Memories</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where do they go?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every moment stored</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the mind computer</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every experience</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That makes us us</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">All these events</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That equal life</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">All these people</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All these...everything</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That makes us</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Who we are</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where do they go</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the light fades</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And we're called home</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">To the infinite void...</span></div>
</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Q_QKvsjRlOI" width="560"></iframe></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-14298235364204007842015-08-14T13:25:00.000-07:002015-08-14T13:25:38.706-07:00Don't Be Afraid to Chase Your Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Three Things:</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>First up</i></b>, I was asked to share the bravest thing I ever did for Rhoda's amazing new site <a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/">femininepowercircle.com</a>:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuPtsckTX79Ge0ApcoJbdENz9ZU9pfgTLAor3bNpfCfRi2PkXeVDsKcwe_N80yKTpD6K1DxP-KE-ysLOTYrIHhDBGmha0HqNrAktqDcE7BOqpqhjDvUYcTlnNVqGJyAK3IFcW/s1600/The-Bravest-Thing-3-copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuPtsckTX79Ge0ApcoJbdENz9ZU9pfgTLAor3bNpfCfRi2PkXeVDsKcwe_N80yKTpD6K1DxP-KE-ysLOTYrIHhDBGmha0HqNrAktqDcE7BOqpqhjDvUYcTlnNVqGJyAK3IFcW/s320/The-Bravest-Thing-3-copy.png" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<b>Melissa, what’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?</b></div>
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<i>...The palm trees swaying in the Santa Anas beckoned to me. Could I do it? Could I drop everything and move West? Could I leave my friends and family?...</i></div>
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Read more here: <a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/the-bravest-thing-melissa-has-ever-done/">http://femininepowercircle.com/the-bravest-thing-melissa-has-ever-done/</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosCg4n0BRuXRjApLqWbOrBFWT4hIwF65_Ts-KJhvdBcqLSCOpzN4IKhPDWxiW4ddJVDr9DHOMSuYQipPIKcM0cqfSLEXOMYo1zxzuFE9_BfOY1EGKiEda9HEfqgxnzdjciDnG/s1600/decorative_line.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosCg4n0BRuXRjApLqWbOrBFWT4hIwF65_Ts-KJhvdBcqLSCOpzN4IKhPDWxiW4ddJVDr9DHOMSuYQipPIKcM0cqfSLEXOMYo1zxzuFE9_BfOY1EGKiEda9HEfqgxnzdjciDnG/s200/decorative_line.png" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<b><i>Second</i></b>, Scarlett & I released our 5th episode of Between the Sheets. In this one we discover there's an actual thing called National Orgasm Day, which we celebrate by going through a list of things you might not have known about climaxing. Then we share an embarrassing Windows 10 warning, as well as a squirrel stalker story (say that 5 times fast!).</div>
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/218671176&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosCg4n0BRuXRjApLqWbOrBFWT4hIwF65_Ts-KJhvdBcqLSCOpzN4IKhPDWxiW4ddJVDr9DHOMSuYQipPIKcM0cqfSLEXOMYo1zxzuFE9_BfOY1EGKiEda9HEfqgxnzdjciDnG/s1600/decorative_line.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosCg4n0BRuXRjApLqWbOrBFWT4hIwF65_Ts-KJhvdBcqLSCOpzN4IKhPDWxiW4ddJVDr9DHOMSuYQipPIKcM0cqfSLEXOMYo1zxzuFE9_BfOY1EGKiEda9HEfqgxnzdjciDnG/s200/decorative_line.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Third</i></b>, we finished the treatment of Saurimonde 3, which we wrote at a friend's gorgeous, serene home. Here we are clinking wine glasses in celebration:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3m8GQRYbKkkVzXKA36kYdvGk7f3tAek64ANnVFKjAe1XE5Vlf67oLl2rmMnk5mvRZiCundOsXyvCFbZQF0lqXxjPaFl7d4Y8jYgQEqHwmkTtqFA-6T6ghI3ZuRahhrtYb68n8/s1600/20150807_183414-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3m8GQRYbKkkVzXKA36kYdvGk7f3tAek64ANnVFKjAe1XE5Vlf67oLl2rmMnk5mvRZiCundOsXyvCFbZQF0lqXxjPaFl7d4Y8jYgQEqHwmkTtqFA-6T6ghI3ZuRahhrtYb68n8/s320/20150807_183414-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>What a fabulously strange year it has been so far...</i></div>
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Read more here: <a href="http://www.saurimonde.com/2015/08/the-conjuring-of-saurimonde-iii.html">http://www.saurimonde.com/2015/08/the-conjuring-of-saurimonde-iii.html</a></div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-52345791824767041982015-07-28T14:20:00.001-07:002015-07-28T14:20:06.533-07:00Strange Things Are Afoot At The Circle K<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Every so often the Universe has its own plans for you in life that supersede your own. And as much as you try to hang onto your idea of what you should be doing next, sometimes it's better to simply let go. Let the ubiquitous flow take you on a journey wherever it may want to lead.<br />
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My original plan for 2015 involved finishing Xodus by September for my editor. However, several things have strayed me from that path.<br />
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Life came along and whacked me over the head with a sledgehammer when I discovered a family member was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Although I've tried to rebound from that by going to a few U2 concerts and taking time to enjoy life, I still feel this ticking clock in the back of my head waiting for that dreaded phone call.<br />
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I had considered taking a break from writing Xodus because conjuring up a 100,000 word scifi epic takes quite a bit of focus and concentration, both of which I'm totally lacking right now. Yet I had this looming deadline...<br />
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See, originally, I had conceived of a 55,000 word novel, for which I had a thorough treatment. That part is written and done!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYntzUbUjlHbKrUpoIfHH7wjDDuMQwqh1Gwu_Z_Out1kGeA_y7AdLrKEM0frw2X_UsIOr31seqQ5bwSnCub6UGw0rJ3Xmti1OIlIdnB-AF6bjn_oHxgG-6em9xe5wmdrYczzQr/s1600/break_dancing_stick_man_by_soracortex.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYntzUbUjlHbKrUpoIfHH7wjDDuMQwqh1Gwu_Z_Out1kGeA_y7AdLrKEM0frw2X_UsIOr31seqQ5bwSnCub6UGw0rJ3Xmti1OIlIdnB-AF6bjn_oHxgG-6em9xe5wmdrYczzQr/s1600/break_dancing_stick_man_by_soracortex.gif" /></a></div>
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However, I was told that a proper scifi novel is around 100,000 words. Which, I thought, was fine since I actually had some rough ideas for a sequel. I figured I could take two books and make them one. Part 1 and Part 2. And so here I was with Part 1 finished, but Part 2 still needed a lot more plotting out before I really delved into the writing of it. I felt lost and pressured by my deadline.<br />
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And then the Universe stepped in and sent the winds of change...<br />
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My editor reached out to all of her clients. She would finish her current obligations, but then she'd be retiring.<br />
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I flew into a weird panic that paralyzed me. I couldn't possibly finish the book by September, so I had thought about asking her about an open timeline, but now that I learned she'd be stepping down I didn't think that would fly. What was I supposed to do now???<br />
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Then I met with my co-writer for our current weekly podcast and a new direction was born. (Go ahead. Say "new direction" out loud. Yes, I did that on purpose. *snicker*)<br />
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Between the Sheets with Melissa and Scarlett is a podcast about weird news, entertainment, pop culture, writing, sex, and more.<br />
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Our third episode starts out weird and gets weirder: We tried to change it up with aliens and bigfoot but ended up with "Darth Vibrator" and anal beads!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQHAy02K-hhrjFGKRrPogtOe77RlKbgU5-UfrOd2DoHO8hSlXSB2lS2wOKlSgTPtryN8qijwXQrBjbYlZrBC-fIJpbr0dp_Pp2H3SUn-oLPoprhTvHcyqHp3vQHXN2gVmdZhj/s1600/7854019774_78e723ce78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQHAy02K-hhrjFGKRrPogtOe77RlKbgU5-UfrOd2DoHO8hSlXSB2lS2wOKlSgTPtryN8qijwXQrBjbYlZrBC-fIJpbr0dp_Pp2H3SUn-oLPoprhTvHcyqHp3vQHXN2gVmdZhj/s400/7854019774_78e723ce78.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
In amongst all the nonsense we decided we'd start writing the highly anticipated third installment of Saurimonde.<br />
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Thus, Xodus will go on hold until the start of next year and Saurimonde 3 is set to launch this fall.<br />
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Also, we've been toying with the idea of getting a booth at <a href="http://comikazeexpo.com/" target="_blank">Comikaze</a> this year. If that does indeed happen, we will let you know ASAP. We have some interesting ideas and surprises in store for you if it does. More details to come!<br />
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Lastly, because the Universe so likes to mess with me... I've been approached about giving a talk at a conference about my experience with antidepressants based on an <a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/overmedicated-and-undernourished/" target="_blank">article</a> I wrote for <a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/">femininepowercircle.com</a>. I don't know yet if that's going to definitely happen and I'm nervous as all get out about it because I've never given a talk about anything before (unless you count all my Bono stories while waiting in the GA line), so wish me luck!!<br />
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Until next time...<br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-65277969814113133912015-07-21T12:54:00.002-07:002015-07-21T12:54:24.522-07:00Feather Boa, Skelanimal Onesie, & a Star Trek Phaser<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>These are a few of my favorite things... </i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">♩ ♪ ♫ ♬</span><br />
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Episode 2 of Between the Sheets is now live, wherein I confess to being a closet dendrophile... Don't know what a dendrophile is? (I didn't either.) Tune in below:<br />
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Between the Sheets with Melissa and Scarlett is a podcast about weird news, entertainment, pop culture, writing, sex, and more.<br />
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Our second episode quickly delves into the nether regions: It's the unofficial vagina con in the BTS studio. Weird vagina facts, yoni yogurt, to rabbit or not to rabbit and more!<br />
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And here's a glimpse behind the scenes of us hard at work:<br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-84532163983979167662015-07-16T11:18:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:20:36.767-07:00Parental Discretion Advised<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have wanted to do a podcast for years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Like, literally, years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ever since I worked at the Smodcastle watching Kevin Smith and crew being funny and brave on stage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I even went so far as to approach a couple people to ask if they'd do one with me but, although I got positive responses, nothing ever panned out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Years flew by.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I considered doing one on my own but I wasn't ready. I wasn't feeling brave enough. Besides, I felt a two person podcast just worked better. You can bounce ideas off each other and save each other when one is floundering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I bid my time until recently when my co-writer, Scarlett, agreed to doing a podcast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We had discussed it before, but she lived in France and, although we technically could have tried to use Skype to podcast together, the reception was poor and often dropped out, so we never bothered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But now she lives in LA so all we needed was a microphone and a crash course in GarageBand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Several hours - and a few mojitos - later and we had our first podcast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/214220148&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br /></span>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Warning, though, it's pretty graphic.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Basically, if you read my book, In the Now, it's pretty much in the same vein. And if you didn't, what's your deal? Go buy it now! (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Now-Melissa-St-Hilaire-ebook/dp/B0083UFCQQ/">http://www.amazon.com/Now-Melissa-St-Hilaire-ebook/dp/B0083UFCQQ/</a>)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;">Links:</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;">Website - <a href="http://www.betweenthesheets69.com/">http://www.betweenthesheets69.com/</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Facebook Page - <a href="https://www.facebook.com/betweenthesheetswithmelissaandscarlett">https://www.facebook.com/betweenthesheetswithmelissaandscarlett</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">iTunes - <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/between-sheets-melissa-scarlett/id1018710978">https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/between-sheets-melissa-scarlett/id1018710978</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Feedburner - <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/BetweenTheSheetsWithMelissaAndScarlett">http://feeds.feedburner.com/BetweenTheSheetsWithMelissaAndScarlett</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Soundcloud - <a href="https://soundcloud.com/betweenthesheetswithmelissaandscarlett">https://soundcloud.com/betweenthesheetswithmelissaandscarlett</a></span></div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-7949862018062240422015-07-04T06:00:00.000-07:002015-07-06T12:12:51.131-07:00Life Is Crazy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before I go into the long explanation of why I haven't blogged in awhile, here are links to two articles I've written recently for <a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/" target="_blank">femininepowercircle.com</a>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>OVERMEDICATED AND UNDERNOURISHED</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">As some of you know, I had a terrifying experience with antidepressants a few years ago. Off and on I've been writing a book about that adventure called Medicated. It's admittedly been a lot more off than on simply because it's a painful journey to face again. However, I think it's an important one to share in our pharmaceutical cure-all age we currently live in. In this article, I revisit that time. It's my book in a nutshell.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><span style="color: #141823;"><a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/overmedicated-and-undernourished/" target="_blank">http://femininepowercircle.com/overmedicated-and-undernourished/</a></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>YOUR RELIGION DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO DICTATE HOW OTHERS LIVE</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I found myself simultaneously flustered and fascinated by the religious right's reaction to the SCOTUS ruling on marriage equality which I examined in this article.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://femininepowercircle.com/your-religion-does-not-give-you-the-right-to-dictate-how-others-live/" target="_blank">http://femininepowercircle.com/your-religion-does-not-give-you-the-right-to-dictate-how-others-live/</a></span><br />
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<b>CANCER</b><br />
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February of this year I learned that a member of my family was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I was shocked but remained hopeful that she would beat it.<br />
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By May of this year that hope had drastically diminished as the doctors claimed no treatment could help—her cancer was terminal.<br />
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I can't share too many details without giving away who the person is, and I want to respect her privacy, but it's been a real blow to the whole family—especially to her, of course.<br />
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I went to visit her in May. She was almost unrecognizable having lost over 80 pounds. I felt tears threaten to fall and my heart crawl up into my throat, but I fought them all back down. I wanted to remain strong for her. I wouldn't put her in a position where she felt like she needed to comfort me. And I wouldn't treat her differently, like I'd witnessed others do, as if she had magically transformed into some new unknown person. As if she became the cancer instead of being the person I've known for years.<br />
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I stayed for three weeks. The visit was difficult at times as I assisted with organizing medicine, preparing food, and accompanying them to the hospital.<br />
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At one point hopes were raised and quickly dashed as we inquired about a last resort trial, but alas she didn't qualify.<br />
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There was an uncomfortable meeting with hospice workers where we discussed end of life care and funeral arrangements.<br />
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There were many moments where time seemed to stand still and nothing felt real, as if we were all in denial that this was really happening. As if we'd all wake up and laugh off this terrible dream we'd had, relieved that it had only been a nightmare.<br />
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There were tense uncomfortable moments when anger bubbled to the surface and everyone hated everyone else for various perceived infractions. But, in reality, we were all merely hurting and lashing out.<br />
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So many times I thought back to my previous visit. All of us walking along the sandy beach watching the waves roll gently to the shore as pelicans flew overhead. Laughing. Smiling. I envied the retired lifestyle where time mattered not.<br />
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Now every day is precious. Every second counts.<br />
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In a video game I once played, my character was the President of the United States and I was asked to choose between feeding the world or curing cancer. At the time, I chose "feed the world." I'd like to change my answer.<br />
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<b>U2</b><br />
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Almost immediately upon returning to LA, I had five U2 concerts on my schedule.<br />
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I was both physically and emotionally drained from my trip. I didn't feel in the mood for the mayhem a U2 tour brings.<br />
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See, in the past, I've followed the band on tour. Aside from seeing them in my various hometowns of Boston and LA over the years, I've also seen them in NY, NJ, CT, RI, all over Northern CA, OR, AZ, and NV (I may be forgetting a few). Also, In 1993 I saw them in Dublin twice and in 2006 I saw them in Hawaii.<br />
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In short, I'm a huge fan.<br />
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I had wanted to see them open in Vancouver, then follow them to San Jose and Phoenix in May, but family came first.<br />
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So, instead of 20+ shows, I'd have 5 shows this tour. But that was okay with me. I made my peace with that. I wasn't even sure I had 5 shows in me!<br />
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That is until I experienced night 1 of iNNOCENCE + eXPERIENCE in LA GA at the e stage.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Later that night we got the bad news that their tour manager Dennis Sheehan had passed away. Everyone was heartbroken. The next night the energy in the arena was different for night 2. Somber but more charged. That night I was in GA again but this time close to the main stage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At one point Bono approached Edge and I heard him say, "Switch it up," then they launched into Bad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span>If you twist and turn away.<br />
If you tear yourself in two again.<br />
If I could, you know I would<br />
If I could, I would let it go.<br />
Surrender, dislocate.<br />
<br />
If I could throw this lifeless life-line to the wind.<br />
Leave this heart of clay, see you break, break away<br />
Into the night, through the rain<br />
Into the half light, through the flame.<span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><br />
<br />
The tears spilled out of my eyes rolling fast down my cheeks.<br />
<br />
"If I could, through myself, set your spirit free<br />
I'd lead your heart away, see you break, break away<br />
Into the light, through the day."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwMAAaXk_0TOvT1JmSLXC4-s2QpN2dlLcz3thSH15LE9pS7waLGUmtKnw_FTYuXf0j47Gcgpuw2JavtgNbM7wj-JxQ1Q82etwlCZGeaNQ5ejCfMHWwF1kx6aJDz2oSLKOuPg1/s1600/18016125380_ae71af3ca7_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwMAAaXk_0TOvT1JmSLXC4-s2QpN2dlLcz3thSH15LE9pS7waLGUmtKnw_FTYuXf0j47Gcgpuw2JavtgNbM7wj-JxQ1Q82etwlCZGeaNQ5ejCfMHWwF1kx6aJDz2oSLKOuPg1/s640/18016125380_ae71af3ca7_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt the weight of the world lift from my soul. I felt at home. Life is what happens in between U2 tours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next three shows culminated with LA 5 when they played Volcano, my favorite off the new album, for the first time this tour.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XokKhLm2r30" width="560"></iframe></center>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Those five shows were exactly the escape I needed from reality. I've often heard/read other U2 fans say that U2 is always there when they need them most—a new album at the right time or a new tour. For once, I felt that too. Exactly when I needed that feeling of elation, community, love and joy I got it in LA.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosCg4n0BRuXRjApLqWbOrBFWT4hIwF65_Ts-KJhvdBcqLSCOpzN4IKhPDWxiW4ddJVDr9DHOMSuYQipPIKcM0cqfSLEXOMYo1zxzuFE9_BfOY1EGKiEda9HEfqgxnzdjciDnG/s1600/decorative_line.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosCg4n0BRuXRjApLqWbOrBFWT4hIwF65_Ts-KJhvdBcqLSCOpzN4IKhPDWxiW4ddJVDr9DHOMSuYQipPIKcM0cqfSLEXOMYo1zxzuFE9_BfOY1EGKiEda9HEfqgxnzdjciDnG/s200/decorative_line.png" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>SNEAK PEEK</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4smSwbfh-G9q_2jow51TMUZgRKHdJPmlRXpRKeNLCElC5GVa0wvZPpGnumMoVtbKV-8Z5JIR2AH7-QEH-cccc4Pg1vgvSwlpgHIRluYZ4CMMQG11taglJDatJm7VxeNnADSM/s1600/ms04236crop_c-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4smSwbfh-G9q_2jow51TMUZgRKHdJPmlRXpRKeNLCElC5GVa0wvZPpGnumMoVtbKV-8Z5JIR2AH7-QEH-cccc4Pg1vgvSwlpgHIRluYZ4CMMQG11taglJDatJm7VxeNnADSM/s640/ms04236crop_c-1.jpg" width="564" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The secret project I'm doing with Scarlett Amaris is actually something I've wanted to do for awhile now but haven't had the balls to do it. (Well, I don't technically have the balls now either because I'm a girl. So, I have the ovaries to do it? What's the girl equivalent for having the balls to do something? Is there one? There should be. I guess I'll just have to go with gender neutral guts. I finally have the guts to do it.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's a hint:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJWZo6OPoFUxZlycWbOIMRl7ixU8hmfmmvY2ngGH7hZAazchQA-fOKHlqo_gg7Dbox_PnUzXJFVF11gWZ0Tjy6ztkqlofomGMJ0HPDny10yj8l16MBOsqkqYL1q4z79EbK_i1/s1600/IMG_0408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJWZo6OPoFUxZlycWbOIMRl7ixU8hmfmmvY2ngGH7hZAazchQA-fOKHlqo_gg7Dbox_PnUzXJFVF11gWZ0Tjy6ztkqlofomGMJ0HPDny10yj8l16MBOsqkqYL1q4z79EbK_i1/s400/IMG_0408.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, I'm still pounding away on Xodus. Granted, it's taking me much longer to write than I had hoped, but life throws wrenches at the best laid plans. I'm not sure if I'll meet my September deadline, but I'd rather take longer and do it right than rush and half ass it. Next up after Xodus I hope to get back to Medicated. All the elements are there for a book, I just have to piece </span>everything<span style="font-family: inherit;"> together and edit it. Deep breath!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh, and if you're curious about what books appear in the "sneak peek" photo (we scoured all my bookshelves for ones that meant something to each of us), below are all the books we pulled, though not all ended up in the final crop:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe src="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1odjNmIHTVTkRokqg974z8djOfVTG__fOCrRxjmFNfLw/pubhtml?gid=0&single=true&widget=true&headers=false"></iframe></span>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-37209208683035827122015-01-16T16:24:00.000-08:002015-01-16T23:18:09.811-08:00So much to do, so little time...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Xodus:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sent in the first half of Xodus to my editor last night, then—in a fit of insomnia—I plotted not only the second half of the book, but also two sequels. I'm on a roll!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll soon—like today—be diving into finishing the first book so I don't lose steam. I'm wicked excited as this second half has been most elusive to me. In fact, I had originally been thinking of taking a few months off to work on other projects first, mainly because I had no clue where the story was going. I knew how it ended, but I didn't have the big middle. I've notes upon notes of events that should take place plus myriad random scenes sketched out but until last night I didn't have a set timeline of events in chronological order and now I do, even though I was up until 6 am writing feverishly in my bed only to crash and awake later at noon with a touch of a sore throat. It's like sending in the first half let the floodgates open. I'm so excited and proud of this story. I've always wanted to write a sci-fi novel and now here I am doing it, living the dream. The next steps will be to find an agent and publisher, but for now I write, because sometimes it's not about the destination but the journey itself.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Uq0h3gB3e_s7Hha_n4nzcRI9Ndsg9xBofQUsFUYUJD4lbpHi0OwEiinfe4liEPceSwojvCZDXqE3fqJgl1uKe5bcFQjbocaxdUhwE_4cL4R4fDNRAFrMOjX9o_75YVAeC4XY/s1600/Space_Spaceship_in_flight_043503_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Uq0h3gB3e_s7Hha_n4nzcRI9Ndsg9xBofQUsFUYUJD4lbpHi0OwEiinfe4liEPceSwojvCZDXqE3fqJgl1uKe5bcFQjbocaxdUhwE_4cL4R4fDNRAFrMOjX9o_75YVAeC4XY/s1600/Space_Spaceship_in_flight_043503_.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Zoe:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As a result of my scrambling to complete the first half of Xodus by a deadline, I haven't blogged much lately. I had wanted to post a blog in tribute to my cat Zoe who passed away in November. I wrote it but never posted it because every time I tried to insert pics I broke down in tears. However, I posted it shortly prior to this one—if you're interested in having your heart broken: <a href="http://www.melissa2u.com/2015/01/time-doesnt-heal-all-wounds-missing-zoe.html" target="_blank"><b>Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds (Missing Zoe)</b></a>.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGbwkq9whWLcjNUjRE3jdR5_u1XWArNWjOFSdzE3rKV_vPEou8b5HaTpebctGE43uLo2-cwDh77kqt_T2rTAODuwzctAfFnKuviP9JaRbFyEUAxg3UuDGbUy9vtvR576kg9ym/s1600/db3be5c2ff5311e18ce622000a1e880e_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGbwkq9whWLcjNUjRE3jdR5_u1XWArNWjOFSdzE3rKV_vPEou8b5HaTpebctGE43uLo2-cwDh77kqt_T2rTAODuwzctAfFnKuviP9JaRbFyEUAxg3UuDGbUy9vtvR576kg9ym/s1600/db3be5c2ff5311e18ce622000a1e880e_7.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Photoshoot:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just before the holidays, my <a href="http://www.saurimonde.com/p/where-to-buy.html" target="_blank"><b>Saurimonde</b></a> co-writer arrived from France and we decided to do a photoshoot while she was in town. I had shown her some photographs taken by <a href="http://nickholmesonline.com/photo/" target="_blank"><b>Nick Holmes</b></a>—gorgeous black and whites of stunningly beautiful women—and she asked me to get in touch. A date was set and I immediately felt my stomach do somersaults.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I get very nervous in front of cameras, audiences, you name it. I mostly prefer to spend my time alone writing, reading, playing games, or watching movies. However, we each needed newer author photos for our various profiles on Amazon, Goodreads, etc. and Scarlett wanted to celebrate the solstice with more <a href="http://www.scarlettamaris.com/2014/12/nudum-ad-solstitium.html" target="_blank"><b>intimate photos</b></a>. I was rather intrigued by his boudoir photography. Could I do it? Did I have the gall?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Day of the shoot arrived. I barely slept a wink the night before I was so riddled with anxiety. Yet it was all for naught. I hadn't seen Nick in quite some time and when I did, I immediately felt at ease. He has a very calming presence about him. I told him I was nervous because I didn't really know what to do in front of the camera. He told me not to worry. That he'd do all the work. And did he!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He took us to a few of his favorite locations in South Pasadena as we warmed up in front of the camera, then we went back to his place for the more intimate photos. I had been on the fence about those, but by the time we arrived at his place, I was feeling more confident and prepared.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I went into his bathroom and tried on my lingerie, still feeling slightly unsure of myself, my face, and my body, but as soon as I stepped in front of his camera and he took over directing me to pose this way or place my hand there, I forgot all my fears and let go. As a result, Nick took one of, if not the best, photo that has ever been taken of me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41VawbUBXuEwVLsonZqqokVgqJ4EGZ2J8NKzeozpzrKkNG5xpd7aFcooeSZWbXu6GzQPQ1QtmI7a_2KVKwUByka-lhYQlodssXvAXitppn4dhyphenhyphen-77FtiQ6ziQ2vCDGuELsmKx/s1600/BW4web1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41VawbUBXuEwVLsonZqqokVgqJ4EGZ2J8NKzeozpzrKkNG5xpd7aFcooeSZWbXu6GzQPQ1QtmI7a_2KVKwUByka-lhYQlodssXvAXitppn4dhyphenhyphen-77FtiQ6ziQ2vCDGuELsmKx/s1600/BW4web1.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And here are a couple of the author shots...</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6Qatk1OCT6mkdsjpJ24FyP4NzpTS0MMfZr3NA8kelYyY0tTVSuHZ2qRVPLuKnLE1tvStXsdvZ89DPHVTLfzqZaJuQYE5arpy8DzS7Jkq92enEdM_m3yA-busaA-cZt99z5DM/s1600/Melissa+&+Scarlett+12-14-182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6Qatk1OCT6mkdsjpJ24FyP4NzpTS0MMfZr3NA8kelYyY0tTVSuHZ2qRVPLuKnLE1tvStXsdvZ89DPHVTLfzqZaJuQYE5arpy8DzS7Jkq92enEdM_m3yA-busaA-cZt99z5DM/s1600/Melissa+&+Scarlett+12-14-182.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My new Goodreads author photo: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/melissa2u"><b>https://www.goodreads.com/melissa2u</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUjWPjpcuYS8FXyhn9iNwzWHUxOitxM8VIt8ZUPKT5kkn3_Qer8SvHkRUvpn2EOtUWd-ike2uS_Rp3nD8sNRGuLca0d_vxIknT3GgR6hYCmBskzL0TzEMmmYagC2nZuqA4aKP/s1600/Melissa+&+Scarlett+12-14-217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUjWPjpcuYS8FXyhn9iNwzWHUxOitxM8VIt8ZUPKT5kkn3_Qer8SvHkRUvpn2EOtUWd-ike2uS_Rp3nD8sNRGuLca0d_vxIknT3GgR6hYCmBskzL0TzEMmmYagC2nZuqA4aKP/s1600/Melissa+&+Scarlett+12-14-217.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My new Amazon Author Page photo: <a href="http://amazon.com/author/melissasthilaire"><b>amazon.com/author/melissasthilaire</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgYgDsgXoIbcy-WBSOzAoJW75zsSfmdGalS0MABvAeOH95Q8_WAwvaSLmTALf0nAb7dYA7n-_j0fvUZq38Ta1dKjXGYCzF-8Sg9Qn7utJzCcG6zWFjXJFCpctHWRw068DWzKI/s1600/Melissa+&+Scarlett+12-14-206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgYgDsgXoIbcy-WBSOzAoJW75zsSfmdGalS0MABvAeOH95Q8_WAwvaSLmTALf0nAb7dYA7n-_j0fvUZq38Ta1dKjXGYCzF-8Sg9Qn7utJzCcG6zWFjXJFCpctHWRw068DWzKI/s1600/Melissa+&+Scarlett+12-14-206.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My new About page photo: <a href="http://www.melissa2u.com/p/about.html"><b>http://www.melissa2u.com/p/about.html</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am so immensely grateful to his talent and skill as a photographer.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Golden Globes:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the photoshoot the holidays came and went in a blur and then I was staring down my deadline with the editor for 23,000 words of Xodus. Now was the time to buckle down and focus. I had all these blogs I wanted to post, but I had to put everything on hold. I had to get those words ready. I was really starting to feel the pressure when I got a text from a friend asking if he could interrupt my work for a quick phone call. I told him, "Of course," and hoped everything was alright but, to my surprise, he was calling to invite me to the Golden Globes after parties. Exactly the kind of interruption I needed!!</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xm8jxLl7Poo/VLWlEGo0DyI/AAAAAAACmO8/QGGjXqb0Sy4/s1600/20150111_222259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xm8jxLl7Poo/VLWlEGo0DyI/AAAAAAACmO8/QGGjXqb0Sy4/s1600/20150111_222259.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My friend Jason and I at the Fox party before I got plastered on free drinks.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bDUIORAvrKE/VLWmCGxhvEI/AAAAAAACmQM/OuReV2FXIAs/s1600/15%2B-%2B1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bDUIORAvrKE/VLWmCGxhvEI/AAAAAAACmQM/OuReV2FXIAs/s1600/15%2B-%2B1" height="225" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Fox party in full swing. A few drinks in and we were on the stage dancing like crazy to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6FBfAQ-NDE" target="_blank"><b>Just Can't Get Enough</b></a>.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The HBO party winding down.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The NBC/Universal party wherein I'd had so many drinks by then I could only manage this odd shot of the flower arrangements and bored blonde with a few stragglers dancing to Beyonce in the background.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We saw a slew of celebrities, of course, but the highlight of the night was seeing Bill Murray. I didn't talk to him or anything because hello shy, but it was cool just to eye his greatness in passing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now that the fun is over, I must get back to work. I'm off to continue conjuring up an entire universe filled with aliens, spaceships, planets, space stations, and more. Hope you all had merry holidays, a happy new year, and will have an excellent 2015!</span></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-23226428433193828012015-01-16T14:51:00.000-08:002015-01-16T14:51:21.942-08:00Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds (Missing Zoe)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Note: I wanted to post this sooner but every time I tried to go through photos of her to add I broke down and couldn't do it.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fourteen years ago, which seems like a lifetime ago, I was getting ready to go on an interview when I heard a high pitched meow coming from beyond my porch. I stepped outside and peered over the side only to discover a tiny gray fluff ball who looked up at me and meowed a bold hello. I scooped the kitten up into my hands and she immediately cuddled against me purring loudly. I was in love.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the next fourteen years Zoe was a force to be reckoned with. She was loud, stubborn, and demanding. She'd tell me when I needed to fill the food dishes and the water bowls. She'd meow to tell me to change the litter or brush her long fur that tangled and knotted easily. Sometimes she'd meow just to meow. And sometimes she'd drive me crazy with her constant loud voice because I was trying to concentrate. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But now I'd do just about anything in the world to hear her voice one more time.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I miss her so much.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I try to put on a brave face, I try to live day to day, but inside I'm broken. Every other thought is of her. My smile is fake and my eyes always only a blink away from tears.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just a few months ago I lost Satchel... and now Zoe. I've had, and have still, a lot of cats but there was a group of them that I called the originals: Comet, Lucy, Satchel, and Zoe. The first four. I lost Comet and Lucy in 2008 only months apart. Six years later the cycle repeated itself and I lost Satchel and Zoe only months apart. How cruel is that? I had only just begun to feel slightly normal again after losing Satchel to a long battle with kidney failure and now this? And yet the vet gave Zoe a good prognosis. Her illnesses were treatable (hepatic lipidosis, pancreatitis, and hyperthyroidism). Yes she was an older cat but she had a chance for survival. I had hope. But now all I have is heartache.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With each one I lose, another piece of my heart breaks off. How much is left? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet on the other hand, is it not worth it?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She gave me fourteen years of unconditional love and companionship. She was my special girl. My beautiful Zoe. She just appeared one day, took a shine to me, and stayed. I've had a fuller life having had her in it. Every moment was worth it. I just miss her so much.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She had a giant personality. She commanded attention. She would sit in the middle of the living room and staredown visitors while most of the other cats would hide in the bedroom. She even stared down the dreaded vacuum cleaner while the others raced away in terror. She would greet me at the door every time I was away and if I went on vacation she'd get so angry at me when I first returned, holding it against me for ever having left at all, but after a few days she'd jump up on the couch, find her way onto my lap and cuddle with me, her loud engine purring all the while. I would say to her, "Zoe, can you say mama?" And she would reply, "Marow-ma."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On her last day I had a feeling it was the end. She was acting strange. She walked differently. She fell over in the kitchen. She wasn't herself. I placed her on her favorite cushion, laid on the floor next to her, peered up into her big, yellow eyes and told her I would always love her no matter what. I told her I'd never put her to sleep because I couldn't. If she had to go, it had to be on her terms. I couldn't let go. That night I carried her into the bedroom and put her in her favorite chair next to the bed. She stayed with me for awhile but in the middle of the night I heard her jump out, well, it sounded more like she stumbled out. I looked down and she was resting on her side on the floor by the bed. I reached down to pet her and see if she was okay. She seemed fine so I fell back to sleep. In the morning she wasn't there. I walked out into the living room to look for her. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully by the couch. I went about my morning chores and, when it was time to give her her medicine and food, I went to rouse her from slumber, but she never woke up. She was gone. My baby girl left me. At least she's not in pain anymore, but mine has only just begun.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pain of loss never goes away, you just get used to it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Goodbye, Zoe. I love you. I miss you. You were such a good girl.</span><br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-72416742178944127372014-12-06T14:03:00.001-08:002014-12-06T14:11:07.593-08:00World of Pretend (poem)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">We live in a world of pretend</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Showing only our best sides</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">To family and friends</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Hiding our scars</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Our cracks our pains</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Everything is perfect</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">And we're happy all the time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">But it's all far from the truth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Look closely see through the facade</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">We are not all we pretend to be</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">But if we tell the truth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">If we bare our pains to the world</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">We're painted as negative</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">And told to cheer up</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Get over it</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Move on</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">But it isn't always so easy</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">To be happy all the time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">When our hearts are breaking</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">And the world is a mess</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">And everywhere is death</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">From my living room floor</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">To Ferguson or Cleveland or Staten Island</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">West Africa, Iraq or Syria</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">So leave me alone</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">I need to grieve</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">But that won't stop me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">From posting funny cat videos</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">With tears streaming down my face</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;">Pretending everything is okay</span></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-83825429917587152242014-11-03T11:30:00.000-08:002014-11-03T11:44:31.330-08:00Cosplay, Interview, Guest Blog, Giveaway & Release Party Galore!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hi, hello, how are ya?<br />
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I am busy as all get out!<br />
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I always think I have more time, but there's never enough time in the world for everything I want to do.<br />
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But before I get into all that, how was your Halloween? Did you dress up? I love dressing up. It's one of my favorite things to do, though I rarely have the opportunity or time to do it. I used to always dress up for Halloween. It's my favorite holiday -- so much so that I even got married on Halloween! But as one gets older there seems to be a lot less opportunities to dress up for it. That's why I love <a href="http://comikazeexpo.com/" target="_blank"><b>Comikaze</b></a>. It's near where I live, so it's easy to get to, and I get to dress up and check out new indie comic books and buy some collectibles.<br />
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Last year I went as <a href="http://www.melissa2u.com/2013/11/cosplay-at-comikaze.html" target="_blank"><b>Slave Leia</b></a>, which was a big hit. Tons of people asked for photos with me. I had no idea of the kind of attention I'd get! This year I was feeling a little more shy, so I went with some less revealing costumes (plus it was chillier this year).<br />
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I was torn between a few different ideas, but I ultimately decided on an Anarchy Cheerleader from the Smells Like Teen Spirit video (my 20 year old self was so proud)...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatr59SbgLTmCGb-9LGAOCAQBcjHyTtQXxA0fUv22Eb3uiEbQitclTvEjmKnE8HnJYYZ0_xxBHjUq3ZmCnyC0QM2ZIkkO7YRBMYX9GO5QMqrF9spzUQxWtZ15Ag1mw0uKGiCAL/s1600/Mel_SmellsLikeTeenSpirit+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatr59SbgLTmCGb-9LGAOCAQBcjHyTtQXxA0fUv22Eb3uiEbQitclTvEjmKnE8HnJYYZ0_xxBHjUq3ZmCnyC0QM2ZIkkO7YRBMYX9GO5QMqrF9spzUQxWtZ15Ag1mw0uKGiCAL/s1600/Mel_SmellsLikeTeenSpirit+copy.jpg" height="400" width="220" /></a></div>
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And Goth Trek...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeznoti-vEIBbmZMsO-KSynQvKGN1hip9I_i2go9zykg-fgY6xXKR8bt2SB_UL2DUkmzTgtNLo2q19-HUj01AsjJvD_8zmQaZJOpn1oL82eTGbGkNiVtg2WhyphenhyphenxFhXWXPMBPmUL/s1600/Mel_GothTrek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeznoti-vEIBbmZMsO-KSynQvKGN1hip9I_i2go9zykg-fgY6xXKR8bt2SB_UL2DUkmzTgtNLo2q19-HUj01AsjJvD_8zmQaZJOpn1oL82eTGbGkNiVtg2WhyphenhyphenxFhXWXPMBPmUL/s1600/Mel_GothTrek.jpg" height="373" width="400" /></a></div>
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I also got to pose with my favorite monster...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7FDFr_rpo4qHepeldz2PCncFLC_zGun5GYLNA1kYh5romYzc1lfH7-6hmSiH_2QLZaM5Q9ouROi7p6BOYPp7RmADh5Tt3G8-xjDxuyPB9lDyyH5DkorJ_DFcbJ6al-VVWRAB/s1600/Mel_Toxie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7FDFr_rpo4qHepeldz2PCncFLC_zGun5GYLNA1kYh5romYzc1lfH7-6hmSiH_2QLZaM5Q9ouROi7p6BOYPp7RmADh5Tt3G8-xjDxuyPB9lDyyH5DkorJ_DFcbJ6al-VVWRAB/s1600/Mel_Toxie.jpg" height="400" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toxie!</td></tr>
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And what would a comic book convention be without comic books?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1bfRqdKHK9sJWL_dkz0fqaBy7-DGsOcNIF2AS9Cw1GpVytizSZ-28qEcqKHqy8xuijVV8VDCSn7iKZaBtFSQvybNCIAJyL2YdqeXmkg2R8sba85g-jmy9C5yoJBJdMGJQiVqZ/s1600/Comikaze2014ComicBooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1bfRqdKHK9sJWL_dkz0fqaBy7-DGsOcNIF2AS9Cw1GpVytizSZ-28qEcqKHqy8xuijVV8VDCSn7iKZaBtFSQvybNCIAJyL2YdqeXmkg2R8sba85g-jmy9C5yoJBJdMGJQiVqZ/s1600/Comikaze2014ComicBooks.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comikaze Comic Book Haul Day 1</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m6Ff36aTueakGdo8mxUqztqYnCdYJSmWnIzbiszg8TuyTyYEikWXefcqwxpFYH_2Upr_nP2-_Yr7c15huEdHljXsy9VR6qQGPxknUcZr4uWg42oz9gRG5wiqQ-U_Nv-I7TZb/s1600/ComikazeComicBooks2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m6Ff36aTueakGdo8mxUqztqYnCdYJSmWnIzbiszg8TuyTyYEikWXefcqwxpFYH_2Upr_nP2-_Yr7c15huEdHljXsy9VR6qQGPxknUcZr4uWg42oz9gRG5wiqQ-U_Nv-I7TZb/s1600/ComikazeComicBooks2.jpg" height="400" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comikaze Comic Book Haul Day 2</td></tr>
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My goals for the weekend were to discover some new indie comic books and find some back issues of older ones that I recently discovered. I had recently read Black Science 1, Lazarus 1, and Fatale 1 and was dying to read more so those were top priority. I met one of the creators of Metalocalypse, so I had to get a couple of his comic books signed. I also stumbled onto a Neil Gaiman coined comic book, as well as a couple Blade Runner ones, so those were must haves. The rest were new discoveries. One new one that I enjoyed was Menhit: the Mighty, about a shy girl who discovers she's the reincarnation of an ancient, powerful goddess. That one was fun! Another fun one was Time Mason, which features Albert Einstein as a time traveling hero sent out to right wrongs and fight time crimes. Most of the rest I have yet to read.<br />
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I also got a couple of collectibles, including Jon Snow and Ghost Funko vinyl figures (not pictured), as well as the super awesome Galaxy Quest ship (pictured above), which now makes me want to collect ALL the major scifi ships, damn it! I will own Serenity one day, I will...<br />
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Speaking of collectibles... (smooth segue, eh?)<br />
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Scarlett and I are currently running a contest for our new book, SAURIMONDE II. You should totally enter to win -- right here:<br />
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/847059c229/" id="rc-847059c229" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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As you can see we have lots of cool prizes. I'm pretty excited to start making the Saurimonde themed necklaces. I'm still getting the parts in the mail but here's a glimpse of what I have so far so you can get an idea of what they will look like when completed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSv92j7Tu1EJbbms9woz9erwV_HHaBhOZvF2_b1_X2ZfJWcSTrCKXSHueaCmTXKjWH-xohH2nHi7LxDkt7H7eT2EbDd3__S54csRUlJOgmJYzeKARC69JB1oQcp7K_yoJWElQ/s1600/20141103_110213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSv92j7Tu1EJbbms9woz9erwV_HHaBhOZvF2_b1_X2ZfJWcSTrCKXSHueaCmTXKjWH-xohH2nHi7LxDkt7H7eT2EbDd3__S54csRUlJOgmJYzeKARC69JB1oQcp7K_yoJWElQ/s1600/20141103_110213.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the pendant will be a Saurimonde themed image with glass covering.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Scarlett and I have been wicked busy promoting our new book with all sorts of Facebook Parties, interviews, and guest blog posts. Here's a snippet from</span> a lengthy author interview we did for <span class="s2"><a href="http://www.risingshadow.net/"><b>Rising Shadow</b></a>:</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>What is the target audience of Saurimonde and Saurimonde II?</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Scarlett</b>: I think people who loves dark fantasy and are interested in supernatural mythology and in magic will enjoy this book. There are strong elements of sex and violence but the action is fairly tightly written so it is a bit of a page turner. The first book contains quite a bit of death magic and the metaphor of '<i>day and night are not what they seem</i>' is also a metaphor for the psychological aspects of what needs to be destroyed in oneself to come back to the essential authentic wild soul. I also think that anyone who has every been bullied or been forced to live in the shadow of someone more powerful than themselves and has found the courage to rise up and find their own voice and personal power will enjoy these books.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Melissa:</b> I would add anyone who is fascinated by otherworldliness, things unseen but felt, and the thin veil between the normal and the paranormal, like shapeshifters, and those who want to escape to another world for a while.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">To read the full interview, go <span class="s2">here: <a href="http://www.risingshadow.net/articles/416-an-interview-with-scarlett-amaris-and-melissa-st-hilaire">http://www.risingshadow.net/articles/416-an-interview-with-scarlett-amaris-and-melissa-st-hilaire</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">And, just today, our guest blog post for <a href="http://qwillery.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>The Qwillery</b></a> was posted. You should totally check that out here: <a href="http://qwillery.blogspot.com/2014/11/guest-blog-by-scarlett-amaris-melissa.html">http://qwillery.blogspot.com/2014/11/guest-blog-by-scarlett-amaris-melissa.html</a>. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">It's about the Inspirations for the Conjuring of Saurimonde. Fun, esoteric legends for the fantasy-minded.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">What else, what else? Oh! Geesh, how could I forget?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">We're also having our big SAURIMONDE II release party on November 11 at 8PM EDT over on Facebook. You should come join us in celebrating the launch of our new book. There will be prizes, guest authors, and, of course, us. Come, hang out, ask us anything! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Here's the link for that: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1565803353643070/">https://www.facebook.com/events/1565803353643070/</a>.<br />
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Well, I think that about covers it. I know it was a lot of stuff to read, so thank you if you made it this far!! I really need to get more on the ball with timely blog posts but I seem to blink and weeks whiz by. It's mostly due to the fact that I'm working on my next book, Xodus. It's a massive scifi epic that involves teenage twin girls, their younger brother, missing parents, spaceships, aliens, special powers, a dying earth, and travelling across the universe. Phew! I've been having a blast both writing it and researching for it. I am endlessly fascinated by sites like Space.com and looking up various ideas on how to build a spaceship that could actually travel in deep space, as well as all the conspiracy theories on UFOs and alien abductions. At some point I've really got to post a blog about my trip to Joshua Tree for <a href="http://contactinthedesert.com/" target="_blank"><b>Contact in the Desert</b></a>. A fabulous mix of bonkers and believable! But I'll save that for another blog post...</div>
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Until next time...</div>
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"Never give up, never surrender!"</div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-23735945423931806402014-10-20T12:19:00.000-07:002014-10-20T12:23:48.299-07:00Writing, writing, writing!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I haven't blogged in awhile, namely because I have been buried under heaps o' words. I used to blog all the time. I wish I still had time to blog more often, but it seems that after writing or editing all day, I'm pretty worn out of words and mostly just want to sink into my couch and either play video games or read. I also don't use Twitter, Google+, or Facebook nearly as often as I used to for the same reasons. It's funny, because those are the very things that can really aid a writer in getting her words out there, but if I have to choose, I must choose writing books over blogs and posts. </span><br />
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Prior to the days of the Internet, there was never an issue. I'd spend hours at my computer pounding away, deleting, banging my head on the screen, and delighting in finding inspiration... Or sometimes I'd walk down to this idyllic lake near Boston College, lay out a blanket, have a little picnic, and daydream while fighting geese away from my snacks. Minutes turned into hours, days slipped by. Sometimes I'd have a script or a poem or a short story, sometimes I'd have a bunch of false starts, but I'd always have words and pretty much nowhere to share them.</span><br />
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And while the Internet technically existed back then, it didn't exist in the form it does now, or even the form it did 10 years ago when I'd create Tripod pages to post my ramblings. Then Blogger and MySpace were born and I had new avenues to share my thoughts with even more audiences. I posted all the time back then! Every event I attended turned into a blog or a book review or just a bunch of rants and raves over some injustice I stumbled upon. However, I didn't seem to be writing as much for myself. It seemed I was solely writing for an audience, to get "hits" on my blog counter. Oversharing in the name of art all for the sake of vanity. Then Facebook and Twitter were born and oversharing became the name of the game, whether you were a writer or not. But the funny thing is, the more avenues there are to express yourself, the wider the audience, the less I feel compelled to share. Sure, I'll repost that funny cat video or that Guardians of Galaxy Which Character Are You? quiz and I'll check in periodically to Foursquare or snap a pic on Instagram, but I'm not really blogging about events anymore or even my real life day-to-day like I used to. I wonder why?</span><br />
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Then there was a backlash to Facebook (when isn't there?) and Ello was born (wasn't there also Diaspora?). I joined. I'll always give something new on the Internet a go, but I can't help feeling a little bored by it all... I remember how I used to love to spend hours down the rabbit holes of Tumblr or Pinterest. And, sure, every now and then I'll swing by my old digital haunts and check out some new posts, but on a deeper level I just don't care anymore. I scroll lazily through Facebook or Instagram posts, like a couple, comment on a few, then I might remember that Twitter and G+ exist and give those a whirl, but I do so with my mind only half paying attention and with a feeling of "I'd rather be doing something else." It's almost as if I only check my feeds out of some sort of obligation or duty. </span><br />
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And I long for the days before the Internet...</span><br />
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For the days of never knowing what everyone is doing all the time. For the days of never comparing life's milestones or vacation destinations. For running into an old friend and catching up rather than having someone get angry at me for not liking every post or picture. For having days slip by while I'm writing without having everyone worried that something might have happened to me because I didn't comment on the latest celebrity death or car chase.</span><br />
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And I wonder if I should delete my Facebook account. Go off the grid. And I fantasize about giant solar flares taking out the Internet.</span><br />
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But then I remember that as a writer I live a pretty solitary life and it's great to connect with people every so often online and feel like I have a weekly social life, not to mention my family who live thousands of miles away. And I remember that as a writer, the Internet is one of, if not the best ways to get our words out there into the world without jumping through all the hoops of traditional publishing. Without Skype and Google Docs and Amazon, Scarlett, who lives in France, and I wouldn't be able to conjure up dark tales of witchcraft and the occult and share it with all of you.</span><br />
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And, thus, I get to the point of this post...</span><br />
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Saurimonde II, our follow-up to Saurimonde, is now available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saurimonde-II-2-Scarlett-Amaris/dp/1502598507" target="_blank">Amazon</a>.</span><br />
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Here's our book blurb:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>After becoming suddenly human again, the tragically lovely Saurimonde, and her handsome consort, Sordel, realize their overwhelming attraction for each other despite the unnatural way in which they met. All goes well until Saurimonde discovers the terrible truth about Sordel's birth, which causes him to fall prey to his now demonized aunt, the wise-woman Elazki, as circumstances conspire to make Saurimonde believe Sordel has left her for another woman.</i></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-d5090b4c-2ef0-8a9f-db3b-70513042d1b9" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With the aid of a not so innocent priest the wise woman spends her nights converting the young women of the village for their own nefarious plans. Will Saurimonde be able to overcome the demons and find Sordel in time to save him from a malefic fate? Or will she succumb to the answering of an ancient rite, a Beltane bacchanal, which promises to leave none of them alive?</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next up for Scarlett is a fantastical new tale filled with "</span><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">old world magic and erotic overtones," while I'll be delving into the world of science fiction with my decade old story idea about aliens and spaceships called Xodus. It's a long time coming. I was raised on Doctor Who, Star Trek, and Star Wars, so scifi is in my blood. </span></span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And now I have to go meet Scarlett on Skype to prepare for our first stop on our promotional tour, which just so happens to be occurring on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/577239332405796/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, of course. </span></span><br />
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Perhaps, the Internet isn't so bad after all...</span></span></div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-60525409902694036292014-08-29T12:23:00.000-07:002016-03-30T17:19:22.054-07:00Suffering from Chronic Ovarian Cysts & How I Found a Preventative Cure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"2cmleftovariancyst" by James Heilman, MD - Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - <a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2cmleftovariancyst.png#mediaviewer/File:2cmleftovariancyst.png">http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2cmleftovariancyst.png#mediaviewer/File:2cmleftovariancyst.png</a></td></tr>
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As some of you know I suffer from chronic ovarian cysts that leave me doubled over in pain and unable to get out of bed for hours -- or at least I used to. Allow me to explain...<br />
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A few years ago I sought out medical specialists for help. I was experiencing a plethora of pains including abdomen pain but also stomach pain, back pain, as well as other ailments like frequent urination and severe moodiness. Everyone treated these symptoms as separate issues. I was given all sorts of pills that only seemed to make me feel worse. They gave me birth control pills for the cysts, which resulted in me acting like a crazy person, they gave me an assortment of painkillers that destroyed my stomach, they gave me Cymbalta, which made me go literally insane (an experience I've been writing a book about called Medicated) and they gave me Detrol for the frequent urination that, well, you can read about that <a href="http://www.melissa2u.com/2011/04/pills-are-bad-mkay-heathcare.html" target="_blank"><i><b>here</b></i></a> if you want. Then I discovered some non-western medical guidance that steered me onto a new path, but it was only the beginning...<br />
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That guidance came from a constitutional acupuncturist who told me about the 8 body types and a restricted diet (see this blog <a href="http://www.melissa2u.com/2011/09/diet-that-will-change-your-life.html" target="_blank"><i><b>here</b></i></a> for more on that), but while that helped with some stomach issues, once a month I'd still experience excruciating pain as well as all my other symptoms all together like some perfect storm.<br />
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Also, somewhere around this time I got my medical marijuana card to help with the pain because I couldn't stomach pain killers like Vicodin or Percocet. The medical marijuana helped ease my pain some and give me my appetite back, but after awhile I felt like it overtook my life. I'm not saying I became addicted, because it's not that kind of drug, more like it made me even more antisocial than I already was, it made me second guess everything I did and eventually started making me paranoid. I knew I couldn't keep it up and that I had to quit. After all, it was only a bandaid. What I really needed to do was find out why I was experiencing the pain in the first place and fix it rather than cover it up with pot bliss.<br />
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So I scoured the internet night and day reading various blogs and forum discussions. What I discovered is that many women suffer from chronic ovarian cysts and have all the same symptoms I had: abdomen pain, back pain, leg pain, stomach pain, constant urination (from the cyst pressing against the bladder), severe mood swings, fatigue, and more.<br />
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I was not alone.<br />
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Also, many of them experienced the same frustrations at the doctor's office as I did -- doctor's would toss pain killers at them or, in some cases, even tell them that it was all in their heads! I had one doctor try to suggest that to me once, but after surgery he gleefully told me I was right, my body was riddled with cysts and a large one had burst leaving a bunch of fluid everywhere that was wreaking havoc on my body. Great. It's so awesome to be proven right but what would be even better is to be taken seriously from the get go and receive preventative care, not just metaphorical bandaids and surgery, especially since ovarian cyst surgery only drains the cysts you have, it doesn't prevent more from happening.<br />
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After months of research, I collected everything that helped these women suffering from chronic ovarian cysts and tried them out for myself -- from herbal remedies like Vitex (chaste tree berry) to exercise to avoiding certain foods or drinks.<br />
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And while, of course, I must recommend exercise because, if nothing else, it lifts the spirit, the only remedy that really worked for me? Avoiding caffeine.<br />
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I experimented in the past with cutting it, wherein I'd stop getting cysts, then having it again, and the cysts would return. However, it's been about 8 months since I've consistently avoided caffeine and 7 months since my last cyst pain. (I also quit medical marijuana 4 months ago since I no longer needed it really and I've got tons more energy, get more work done, and feel loads more social -- well, I mean, for me. I'm still a loner at heart.)<br />
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My life has taken a 360 degree turn. I haven't felt this happy, healthy and pain-free in a long time. Once I stopped getting cysts, I also stopped getting all the other symptoms. They were obviously all connected. I'm so grateful to all those women who shared their woes on the internet. Had it not been for them, I may have never stumbled onto a preventative cure for my ovarian cysts. It's just a shame I had to discern it that way. It would have been so much easier if there had been some sort of medical study done on preventing ovarian cysts resulting in a cure that did not require taking medicine so that a doctor could have said to me years ago, "Quit caffeine. See what happens." Oh well, better late than never!<br />
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I decided to blog about this in case anyone else out there is also suffering from ovarian cysts, feeling frustrated and seeking a cure. You are not alone! The answers are out there. Google "ovarian cysts alternative treatment." There are so many pages listing so many options that don't require surgery or for you to pollute your body with more toxins. (Speaking of toxins, I even found taking bentonite clay baths to help lessen cyst symptoms, though it was 100% quitting caffeine that finally prevented them for me.)<br />
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Good luck and stay strong. You can beat this! I'm living proof.<br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-5496692299464046222014-06-30T14:14:00.000-07:002014-06-30T14:14:46.886-07:00Goodbye, Friend (Remembering Satchel)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took me awhile to write this blog because the pain has been so great, but I wanted to honor him, Satchel. To write something, anything to remember him. And I wanted to include photos, but I haven’t been able to go through them without crying -- and they still make me cry, but I’ll include them anyway. Heck, I haven’t been able to wake up, go to bed, or get through my day without crying. I miss him so much I have a constant ache in my chest and a </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">never-ending</span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> upset stomach. But I have to write something, it’s what keeps me sane in insane times, so here goes…</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">The problem with being young and naive and rescuing a couple litters of kittens is that one day when you’re older these kittens will be senior cats, get sick, and pass away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think, in order to bear the pain that is life, we trick ourselves into thinking our loved ones are invincible, be they our parents or our pets. We convince ourselves they’ll never die, they’ll be with us until the end. But they won’t. Everything fucking dies. And no matter how many we lose, the pain never lessens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">In fact, it might get worse…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember the day I found Satchel. There had been an old, beat-up, pregnant alley cat that hung around our porch. We called her Stripe due to her prominent dark tiger stripes. Shortly after she gave birth, one of her older offspring started bringing us her kittens. She’d leap up, kitten’s neck held firmly in mouth, and drop them off right in front of our sliding glass door. Somehow she knew, somehow she trusted us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first one she brought we named Tiki, but she didn’t last long. We brought her to the vet, got her shots, etc. but she was too far gone. We buried her in Griffith Park. This tiny tiger striped kitten. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shortly after that she brought us one or two more… I’m not sure how many because I never saw those ones. Jeremy did. For a long time he never even told me about them. They were already gone… It was too late. There was nothing, no power in the universe, that could help them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then one day in May 2002, on Mother’s Day no less, I was on the phone with my Mum when I heard a tiny meow. I looked out on the porch and there was a little black kitten so small he fit in the palm of my hand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I exclaimed, “Oh, my god!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">And my Mum said, “What? What is it?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">“There’s a tiny black kitten on the porch.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">All black? You have to bring him in and save him!</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">”</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We brought him to the vet and got his tests and shots. He was so young that he hadn’t been fully weaned. Jeremy and I took turns feeding him with those oral medicine syringes to get him to eat because he didn’t fully understand how to use a proper bottle with a nipple. I was absolutely determined to keep him alive. It became my life’s goal. I also had to teach him how to use the litter box by rubbing his belly with a warm, damp cloth after he ate and placing him in it. There were quite a few accidents before he learned and a couple chairs had to be thrown out in the process…</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was like a child, but also a best friend. He snuggled better than most cats. He seemed to prefer us to them most of the time. We often joked that he thought he was ‘a people’. He took quite a shining to Jeremy and slept with him every single night and went running to the door to greet him after he came home from a long day on set. But when he didn’t feel well, he came to me and I’d do everything I could to make him better until one day a time came when I no longer could. That was my job -- to make him better, but I couldn’t fix this. His kidneys were failing. We could keep him alive with medicine but what was his quality of life? He hated having the medicine, especially the saline IV. He took to hiding, hissing, and not eating. My precious baby boy. What was I supposed to do? We decided we’d just balance it -- if he seemed well enough, we’d skip the medicine so he could be happy and comfortable, until, after a little while, we realized he was in pain and needed it to be physically comfortable, even if not emotionally. Better he hate us for giving it to him, than hurt -- quality of life -- until one day when the medicine was no longer enough….</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s so hard to say goodbye. I still haven’t fully accepted that he’s gone and I’ll never see him again. I mean, of course I have on an intellectual level, but deep down I just want to hold him again. I just want to hear his precious little meow. See his face, bright yellow eyes looking up at me, irises growing narrow in the sunlight pouring in through the window. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready… There’s never enough time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">When you lose someone, be they a human or a pet, as soon as you wake up and right as you go to bed are the absolute worst moments of existence.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mornings are extra hard because he would come and wake me up everyday asking for food and if I wasn’t ready to get up, he’d burrow under the blanket next to me and spoon. He was so cuddly. I can’t even write about it without unleashing a flood of tears. I miss how he felt next to me. His long, furry, warm, little body pushed up against me purring away. Why can’t there be a time machine so I can go back and do that one more time -- there just isn’t enough time in the world. There isn’t enough time for all the love and all the loved ones. I need one more snuggle. Too soon. Gone too soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">We love you so much Satchel. We hope we made your life better, we hope we brought you comfort and happiness, and I’m sorry for all the medicine. Goodbye, friend.</span></div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-30796504978436149002014-04-15T17:28:00.001-07:002014-04-17T08:57:15.965-07:00Scifi, Fantasy, & a Blood Moon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blood Moon captured April 14th/15th (raw image)</td></tr>
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Earlier today I submitted the first 50 pages of a scifi manuscript to a contest of sorts to be considered for publication by a start up genre publisher under the wings of a giant publishing house. This is the first time as an adult I have tried to get something traditionally published.<br />
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In high school and college I had several <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/dreamoutloud/" target="_blank">poems published</a> and a couple short stories, but nothing big. Then I sort of lost my way down graphic design and film-making paths for almost a decade, but then sprang back with my first book in 2012, a self published memoir, to test the waters. However, I craved to write fiction, but didn't yet have the confidence to tackle it alone. Enter <a href="http://www.scarlettamaris.com/" target="_blank">Scarlett Amaris</a>, with whom I wrote and published a dark fantasy called, Saurimonde.<br />
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Armed with my newfound confidence I wanted to tackle a solo fiction project, but what? I had a few old ideas collecting virtual dust on various hard drives, so I pulled everything out from poems to scripts and read it all, the good, the bad, and the really, truly awful. And I was more confused than ever.<br />
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I took a break on fiction to work on Medicated again, my follow-up to In The Now, about a traumatic experience I had in 2008. I finally figured out a solid outline for the book, but the next step was gathering up all my scattered journals and rereading them. I wasn't ready to go there. I thought 6 years was enough time, but it wasn't. Maybe next year? The 7 year itch.<br />
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Meanwhile, I continued writing miscellaneous story ideas here and there, as well as notes from my favorite articles and documentaries that more often than not tended towards science... When it hit me. Maybe I should write a scifi story? My whole life I have worshiped scifi authors from Dick to Gibson. I instantly thought I wasn't worthy, didn't know enough, and could never pull it off, so I began devouring more science fiction literature as homework. More and more story ideas began bubbling up, until finally I realized I had about 30,000 words of notes. But what to do with them?<br />
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That's when I noticed a call to arms from a new publisher, so I started chipping away at those notes until a cohesive narrative formed based loosely on an old screenplay I had written for a long defunct project and, today, I submitted the first 50 pages (15,000+ words) after a zillion edits and rewrites (okay maybe not a zillion but it felt like it).<br />
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I don't expect to hit it out of the park on my first at bat (But how cool would that be? Seriously. Anyway...), but it's a first step towards another big life goal. So, even if they say no (in 2 months allegedly), it doesn't matter. I'll keep writing it until I get from 55,000 to 100,000 words and I'll submit it anywhere they'll take it!<br />
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Meanwhile, I've been continuing to work on the Saurimonde sequel with Scarlett and it just keeps getting better and better. If you haven't already, hop on over to <a href="http://www.saurimonde.com/">www.saurimonde.com</a> to read the first 3 chapters.<br />
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*deep breath*<br />
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And so it begins... Continues? Never ends? *shrug* Something, something, dark side.</div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-61555058084493329942014-02-06T14:52:00.000-08:002014-02-06T14:56:42.619-08:00Author Interviews: Behind the Scenes from a Tech Perspective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Manzin filming Scarlett, Yvette, and me with the Flip</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Scarlett last came into town from France we had an excellent opportunity to get both us authors on film together since we’re rarely on the same continent. We had little time or money, but big visions!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once we came up with a concept we needed a cast, crew, equipment, locations, props, and costumes. We scoured the town for deals and called upon friends for favors. (Thank you Jeremy, Marnie, Yvette, and Manzin!) Thankfully, I already had a couple digital cameras lying around: 2 Flips (remember those?!) - one with a wide angle lens attachment - and a Sony Cybershot, as well as some lights (Strand Pulsar 500 watts).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jeremy and I had purchased the Flip cameras on a whim awhile back shortly after the company, Cisco, who had acquired them from the original makers, announced they would shutter the doors on the versatile, yet single-function camera due to the rapid rise of advanced video camera functions available on nearly every smartphone (source: <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/13/technology/13flip.html?_r=0">NY Times "Cisco Shuts Down Flip"</a>). They were dirt cheap, so we snagged two plus a few accessories. However, we barely used them. Finally, here was a chance to bust them out and see how they fared compared to smartphones or more advanced digital cameras.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We found them easy to use, but limited. Jeremy said he would specifically recommend them for daylight use, adding that they were super handy for that and less noisy outdoors, but he found them to not be great in lower light. Also, I felt that the footage from the Sony CyberShot was crisper and the colors bolder.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">For our actual interview footage, which we shot at night, we decided to use his extra light kit (while he was off lighting vampires or some-such somewhere). Thankfully, I was once a grip/electric so I knew how to use them, otherwise we might have been SOL! I thought those shots came out fairly decent, after dropping a couple scrims in front of the lens so that our faces weren't completely blown out. (Though a little blow out smooths out the skin nicely.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarlett and I had already released a video (see below) that was edited on my PC with a purchased program from CyberLink and it was such a pain in the ass trying to get everything to sync up properly that I wanted to murder everyone within a 3 mile radius of me. (It would look one way on the timeline, but then after rendering, clips would shift one way or the other and audio tracks would slip out of sync for no apparent reason. OMG it was so annoying!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, I knew that if everyone I loved was going to survive this next editing attempt, I would need to finally admit that Mac was better than PC at something, open up my cobwebbed wallet, and give Apple all my money.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My new favorite thing.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And now after having completed my first edit on a Mac using the software that the damn thing came with, I have to say that I am now a little bit in love it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Despite a few minor complaints with iMovie (that are really complaints about the most recent version of iMovie which is apparently stripped of some of its more advanced (yet I feel necessary) features from previous versions (the bastards!)), not only did I not want to murder anyone while editing, I actually enjoyed it and found myself in the zone a number of times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm pretty proud of the results and itching to shoot and edit more. If you haven't viewed our Author Interviews video already, check it out below, wherein you'll the discover, among other things, the inspiration behind the infamous snake sex scene (or 'snex!).</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/IO9kXR9kCmM" width="640"></iframe>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe now I’ll finally shoot and edit my post-apocalyptic short, </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Gas Mask</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">. But first I need a cast, crew…. Shit. Maybe I should just use Barbies…</span><br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-73957180889539914332014-01-09T11:49:00.000-08:002014-01-09T12:50:36.786-08:00Live to Work or Work to Live? (Or, It's All About Labels)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A few years ago my co-writer moved to France and after about, oh, maybe a year there, I asked her what the biggest difference was between France and America and she said it was how they lived and viewed life and pleasure versus work - they worked to live, whereas Americans lived to work. Well, that got me thinking...<br />
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At the time I had been struggling with this concept of "work." I was writing and designing but I wasn't "working" and as a result I felt devalued. Like the only measure of my worth was my title and my salary, yet I knew so many people who made truly decent money but were living quietly sad and desperate lives. Now, in retrospect, I can look back and realize that, in general, I am far happier (despite miscellaneous personal losses) now that I am no longer traditionally employed nor looking for a "regular job" than I ever was while gainfully employed.<br />
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Yet, in school, all I was ever really taught was how to get a job, or the necessary skills to obtain a job, never how to invent my own job or, more importantly, how to be happy in life. No teacher or course curriculum taught me how to accept loss, live with determination, take the time to just stop and appreciate it all, or not only to chase my dreams, but also manifest them into reality. No one. I learned all that the long, hard way. I learned to grin and bear every bit of unsolicited advice from every well meaning acquaintance. I listened to how there must be some job out there to which I was uniquely suited. But why? Why must we all fit inside boxes to be labeled, piled on a shelf, and forgotten? Why must we each work so hard to make money and never live or achieve real happiness or contentment? (Unless of course you think happiness is a myth and I know of some who do finding it all very overrated and to those I simply say that when I speak or write of happiness I purely mean just being happy enough to want to get up out of bed every day and do whatever it is you do, I don't mean constantly bouncing off the walls like a lunatic on crazy pills. For example, I'm mostly happy. Yes, some days I might break down in tears because my hormones have me in their evil grip or I think of something I'd like to say to a friend who is no longer here, or I might even just be in a generally mopey mood one day or bitchy the next, but I'm still happier now doing what I do than I was in the past when I was spending my days unsuccessfully job hunting or laboring away in an office. *shudder*) I think of all the days of their lives people work jobs they hate, living only for the weekend and vacations when they can (maybe) finally be their true selves building train sets or going for long drives or planting flowers or whatever and I wonder why they can't be their true selves everyday. Why must we live in suits and shadows? Can you imagine if every single day of your life you could wake up whenever you want and do whatever you want with the entirety of your day? Maybe you'd get bored and eventually want a job, but then it would be by choice not by default or, worse, by force.<br />
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Sometimes I think America got it all wrong somewhere along the way. All this focus on "jobs," yet so many people statistically unhappy with their jobs. It doesn't make any sense. We weren't meant to get up at a certain hour every day to commute to a cubicle to push buttons on a machine for 8+ hours and commute home to mindlessly watch TV all night, were we? Were we? We were meant for greater things: art, music, dance... science, medicine, philosophy... discovery and entertainment. Life is so rich, has so much more to offer, seems a shame to waste it on a "job," when you could spend every precious moment doing something you love.<br />
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Now, I know that some might argue that if we were all left to our own devices that we might spend the day stoned playing video games instead of, y'know, curing cancer or writing the next Great American Novel, and we have to have someone do the shittier work, I suppose, but here's the thing, I don't know the answers or how to solve the broken riddle that is America, but I do know that there's definitely something to working to live rather than living to work. I know that from personal experience I'm far happier making it up as I go along than I was "working." But how do we get there? How do we make a change as a nation? How do we fix what's broken when half (or some) of the country don't even realize it's broken, or if they do, think so for all the wrong reasons? How do we get to a point where we are not defined by our jobs, but rather by our souls?<br />
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I remember once when I was out to dinner with a group, many of whom I had never met before, when someone at the table announced we should all go around and say what we did for a living so we could all better acquaint ourselves. Not like, what's your passion or your dream, but your day job. I was just coming out of a particularly bad time in my life where my only goal for each day was getting out of bed so I wasn't too excited at the prospect of labeling myself. When it got to my turn, I simply said, "I'm between labels," and left it at that. That guy spent the rest of the night completely ignoring me while pouring all his attention on the writers and filmmakers in the room. Eventually at one point in the evening, he mentioned one particular director that he'd love to meet and maybe work with one day but he'd only ever exchanged Facebook messages with him. I chuckled to myself. I knew that director. I had his personal number in my phone. I could have called him at that instant and handed the phone over. But I didn't. I didn't even mention that I knew him. I just sat there silently sipping my margarita thinking he'll never know how close he came to making his dream come true if he had only not ignored me for my lack of label. But that's the America we live in. It's all about your status or how much you're worth, but I've had more fun at Hollywood parties talking to the maid than any celebrity. Meanwhile noticing how much she goes unnoticed by everyone else. Just because of her job. Like it somehow makes her less than as a person. We are all people. We are all equal. And we are all going to die. Speaking of... I noticed a couple tweets this morning from Anonymous about a 91 year old woman dying because of some shenanigans pulled by Gov. Christie, wherein Anon called for an apology for her death and some jackass replied, "...Stop acting like it was a child or someone of more value," and Anon replied, "We're all of value..." And we are. All of us. Old, young, rich, poor, famous, unknown, female, male, boss, maid - we are all equally valuable yet our stupid society has tricked us into mistakenly thinking that if you're a certain thing - even if you're born into it and didn't even earn it - you are somehow more or less worthy. It's all about labels. That's where we screwed up. So how do we fix it??<br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13563794.post-47955873319083453432013-11-26T17:16:00.000-08:002013-11-27T10:28:24.476-08:00All Things Occult & A Book Giveaway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All photos by Marnie Shelton</td></tr>
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When I was 12 years old my Mum gave me my first tarot deck, which I read frighteningly well, and I've been obsessed with all things occult ever since.<br />
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Many years later I fulfilled a dream of mine with my co-writer Scarlett Amaris in writing and publishing Saurimonde, a dark fantasy filled with <i>all things occult</i><b>, which you can win below.</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244"><img alt="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1368323800l/17907244.jpg" title="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" width="100" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244">Saurimonde</a>
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by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5822220.Melissa_St_Hilaire" style="text-decoration: none;">Melissa St. Hilaire</a>
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<div class="giveaway_details">
Giveaway ends December 06, 2013.
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See the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/73497" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
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<a class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink" href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/73497">Enter to win</a>
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This past week we threw together an impromptu video and photoshoot to promote Saurimonde and its upcoming sequel.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremy Graham films while I explain that I'm holding a giant bag of cocaine - kidding! It's flour we used to create our circle in the dirt.</td></tr>
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We're still logging video and pouring over photos, but here are a few images of our Hunter's Moon shoot from sigils to séances.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEa0pMCnDFdyXleP9cKLNdSZTdSDG0o3eVJM0J37stFRDoc62QSgxuAoLCMXCBCa3dMCALOdj-nSmHeSg3h6O-TGwbw15ttaXp_O0uJGoj9TQA53pTfvFlnCZYf5ZPEnnmUl-T/s1600/4V6A3979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEa0pMCnDFdyXleP9cKLNdSZTdSDG0o3eVJM0J37stFRDoc62QSgxuAoLCMXCBCa3dMCALOdj-nSmHeSg3h6O-TGwbw15ttaXp_O0uJGoj9TQA53pTfvFlnCZYf5ZPEnnmUl-T/s1600/4V6A3979.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">“In the names of the Goddess and the Horned God, we cast this circle.”</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in makeup & hair by Yvette Lera</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scarlett Amaris in wardrobe by Yvette Lera</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtAQTy9OG2Wbm2Hy89tF2Nx21KQ_xhCAyyTkzuHkWAXACNvF5JXzdpHBHkEWBO74RBFYm8wD5X3e1mTysu4ghdQSBf2mbYYuBC3gGbgEmqw9fMU3Z8VzlcDPcIV6_ZZTmMZfW/s1600/4V6A3928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtAQTy9OG2Wbm2Hy89tF2Nx21KQ_xhCAyyTkzuHkWAXACNvF5JXzdpHBHkEWBO74RBFYm8wD5X3e1mTysu4ghdQSBf2mbYYuBC3gGbgEmqw9fMU3Z8VzlcDPcIV6_ZZTmMZfW/s1600/4V6A3928.jpg" width="584" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Authors, me & Scarlett</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKmioL-qMqVxY6oOq7lwoLbxKBIQDxG46ku-Ub6mRozZUYO1U0I7zeAyv4xGCh4S4cLzgSHyxQvgGrAeBHcmDwsiL6xo0778coC5lC6tkGPXcssbUr84QimwNnAZivhPKDOeD/s1600/4V6A3950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKmioL-qMqVxY6oOq7lwoLbxKBIQDxG46ku-Ub6mRozZUYO1U0I7zeAyv4xGCh4S4cLzgSHyxQvgGrAeBHcmDwsiL6xo0778coC5lC6tkGPXcssbUr84QimwNnAZivhPKDOeD/s1600/4V6A3950.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are unseen things in the darkness.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdAvYp0W1cCeosmk9ewmwnMX4j0icK0L8X7yAUecynrP5tUd_n2kMB24S48CP5Toev69Yai9czhib7ODYFKc2yqJaWYNaYs7tINstHxlFBwOdXJw1gx4630MfsAK62_quKtMA/s1600/4V6A4165-rt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdAvYp0W1cCeosmk9ewmwnMX4j0icK0L8X7yAUecynrP5tUd_n2kMB24S48CP5Toev69Yai9czhib7ODYFKc2yqJaWYNaYs7tINstHxlFBwOdXJw1gx4630MfsAK62_quKtMA/s640/4V6A4165-rt.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"In the name of the Lady of the Moon..."</td></tr>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyJM_lr4fUYM1c7K_zW1wQg6oBXUGkBo6tEusIJtnaUyGiTqZJanIe9wHgfCt2dWiWyd7NJVFtzJnVFLQp6tEhGM6fAaueTPN94CNa00BDjwhuLxhXTWWTGXPyKCXxcyzig05/s1600/4V6A4152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyJM_lr4fUYM1c7K_zW1wQg6oBXUGkBo6tEusIJtnaUyGiTqZJanIe9wHgfCt2dWiWyd7NJVFtzJnVFLQp6tEhGM6fAaueTPN94CNa00BDjwhuLxhXTWWTGXPyKCXxcyzig05/s640/4V6A4152.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"...and the Horned Lord of Death and Resurrection..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2RjMdYnP4pzblcNHZqP0HHJ_vtcDDFJWiT9UEWDUp2eAFJN3evkPZldh2LgGhTYKfYcs6Y21enGIX8f21hbnDGFJSuSXzrcIpr8uxEI59RxAQYdc4FTbH-XP8syd5MswI4EPq/s1600/4V6A4068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2RjMdYnP4pzblcNHZqP0HHJ_vtcDDFJWiT9UEWDUp2eAFJN3evkPZldh2LgGhTYKfYcs6Y21enGIX8f21hbnDGFJSuSXzrcIpr8uxEI59RxAQYdc4FTbH-XP8syd5MswI4EPq/s1600/4V6A4068.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Communicate with us, oh Spirit, and move among us."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Stay tuned for our upcoming author interviews, videos, more photos, & new tales of Saurimonde. And don't forget to enter to win <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/73497-saurimonde" target="_blank">a signed copy of Saurimonde via Goodreads</a>.</div>
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In the mean time, check out our Saurimonde promo trailer:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/FNP2XKaSYyk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Extra special thanks to everyone who helped out on the shoot: Jeremy Graham, Scarlett Amaris, Yvette Lera, Marnie Shelton, Manzin, & Joel Westendorf.</div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0