In Love with the Brotherhood

A long time ago, it became obvious that I was missing out on something big. Several of my friends had read, fallen in love with and talked about obsessively a series of books called “The Black Dagger Brotherhood” by J. R. Ward.

BDB fan art from Blaubeerstrauch90 (at DeviantArt).

I am admittedly late to the game on most of the big book series (Confession: I didn’t even read Twilight until after I saw the first movie), but I am obsessive once I start a series. When I’m in a good book(s), I will read in the morning over the toaster, I will read in the car in the daycare parking lot, I will read at my desk at work, I will read making dinner and I will read late into the night. I will immerse myself in that world so completely that I will neglect the real one. This is a difficult side effect to cope with having 2 young children. I have to pace myself. Good books have to be spaced out with downtime in between. This lessens the guilt I feel when I’m so often “away” in book land.

I am currently on an extended hiatus from the Black Dagger Brotherhood series, as I devoured 8 books straight from October through Christmas. I was so wholly immersed in this world of vampires, lessors, chosen and sympaths that I barely remember the month of November.

I have 3 more books to go and then there is going to be a new one this spring. These books are the best of guilty pleasure entertaining fun. This book series is pure pulp vampire sex, but there is a unique enough world, and the boys are just tattooed and bad enough, to keep you hooked.

I can’t wait to dive back in with the next book, but I’m pacing myself. Giving myself time until I’m really “needing” the brotherhood back real bad. I have a feeling, it will be very soon.

5 Ways You Know Your Friend is Addicted to the Black Dagger Brotherhood:

  1. She’s constantly talking about people named Wrath, Zsadist, Rhevenge and Xhex.
  2. She asks you “What’s doing?” or “You feel me?” when she never did before.
  3. She is always asking you to help her talk her partner into wearing leathers and shit kickers (aka leather pants and boots).
  4. She wishers her partner would wear leathers and shit kickers.
  5. She successfully forces ever other avid reader she knows who is not reading the series to read the series. Like now. Do. It. Now.

It’s Not About Me

There are days when I think everyone online is talking about me. The blog posts are about me. The tweets are about me. The articles reference things I’ve said or done or written. And they all seem to be judging me.

I really don’t have a big ego. I’m not full of myself at all.

It stems from being in such a place of insecurity and uncertainty that I’m assuming everything and everyone are pointing a judgemental finger at me. I’m looking for reflections of myself in order to find fault with myself. That’s one of the pitfalls of our online culture. It’s too easy to wallow in the muck because there is so much muck out there. But it’s not muck I’m reading. It’s good things from trusted sources. From people who seem to “know” me. They seem to be in my head, putting my shame into writing.

I know, it’s not about me.



There is a particular person in my life that likes to say to me, “It’s not about you.” Most things aren’t. I’m not crazy….I do get that concept. I just happen to be in a feeling blue/funk/depression and this is how it manifests itself. The real people in my life are loving and supportive and wonderful, so I must look to the non-real “people” in my life to point out my flaws so that I can justify being down on myself.

Oh, and you know what makes it worse? My own blog. I look back on my own posts and think “what a pile of crap”. That’s when I start calling my ego to task. So really there is not one safe place for me online when I’m in this kind of mood.

So bring on the holidays, excited kids and other possibilities. I need to shake out of this funk and stop all of the fingers that faux point at me.  *It really isn’t all about me.

*except my own blog. Here, it IS all about me and there’s nothing wrong with that.


Another local blogger has a view on this topic as well. Meet Counting My Spoons and her take on “It’s Not All About You”.


And Then There Was a Cat

Indy CatA kitty cat. And he danced danced danced and he danced danced danced!

This is Indy, the new family member. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a kitten in the house. I forgot how they act. There’s the late night attacking of feet in the bed, the knocking make-up off the counter, jumping on the table during dinner and the sneak attack of bare legs while they are propped up on the ottoman. Then there are the cuddles, the extremely loud purrs and the warm and fuzzy feelings that go with forming a relationship with a warm and fuzzy little bit of spunk and cuteness. He’s a precious purr baby and he has us all in the palm of wittle bitty paw.

Hello Indy. Welcome to the family.