Thank you.

This was a week after he got here.

I want something to do with my heart. I need to find a way to lift it, spice it....something. I can't handle the bleakness of grief. I can't handle the short journey from my porch through my door, because there is no Spartacus Jones waiting for me. It's the worst part of my day. So, I'm writing another grief blog. I've said so much, but I feel like I haven't said enough.

By the way, thanks for ignoring my punctuation, grammar, sentence structure and  other screw ups a writer knows better than to publish. I've been told my words were beautiful but they are the ramblings of a half-plastered cat lady that didn't know how else to express herself.

Honestly? This hurts every bit as bad as losing my father. Yes, really. It's a different kind of pain, but it's still monstrously painful.

There are two kinds of people in this world. There are pet owners and generally kind people who, upon hearing of the death of anyone's pet will express meaningful, empathetic or at least sympathetic condolences. Then there are the others. The ones whose eyes will glaze over as they excuse themselves from the irritation and discomfort of a grieving pet owner. It's just a cat. 

This was the day he arrived.

But eventually, everyone will tire of it. They have lives to live, and while this is all very sad, it's not their shit to hold.

So right now, I'm avoiding humans. Everyone. First, I'd like to thank all of you in my real world and the world of social media for all the sweet messages. I often wonder why I write whiny blogs and post them on all my social media accounts, but I think I understand why I do it.

Right before I leave my garage, right before I take the short walk to my back door, I sit in my vehicle and cry. I shriek, I howl, I sob and let rivers of tears and snot drip down my face. I scream as loud as I can, inside the SUV. Then I straighten up, lock up, and check my mail. I unlock my back door, and feed Freya.

This blog, and the one before it, are the writer's version of screaming into silence. I can be truthful with myself in that I announced the death of Spartacus Jones on social media and wrote the blog for attention. My heart broke, and the world continued without him.
It's my scream in the garage, but I needed you to care. I'm a little ashamed to admit, I needed all your likes, hearts, sad icons and comments. Dan and I feel somewhat isolated right now, and I drank your comments and icons up. Now I know why they call it 'Thirsty'. Still doesn't stop me from doing it.

It's like, "I don't want to see or talk to anyone, but I still need you to comfort me." Weird, eh?  But whatever. It's working.

It actually helps.I may look like a crazy cat lady and a fool, but I know I needed this. So I just wanted to say Thank You.

Becoming Fahrenheit 451

Happy New Year! I hope you had a great holiday and that your Christmas was filled with happiness and personal blessings.

MY personal blessing included two 60th Anniversary editions of Fahrenheit 451 from my husband and sister. I'm soooo pleased! You see, it's my favorite book in the whole world, but I never seem to have a copy. I buy every one I see, and brag it up to friends, telling them it's the most interesting, insightful book. Then they ask to borrow it, and I never see it again.  Here's where you can get your own: :http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fahrenheit-451-ray-bradbury/1100383286?ean=9781451673319

And since I HAVE two now, I'm itching to take a highlighter after one, because there's so many glittering wisdoms, uncanny insightful predictions, and descriptions of jealousy inducing, shocking grace that I want to memorize it all. Maybe I will...Maybe I will become The Book of Fahrenheit 451. Maybe I should learn how to spell 'Fahrenheit' without a spellchecker first.

I read this book from Ray Bradbury in the 12th grade English class. It had a profound effect on me, and my views on censorship. Censorship of anything is a crime against freedom. I remember well the day my English teacher showed us a movie of it, which was made in the sixties. I remember how he smirked when  he asked what I thought of it.

The first thing I asked was "Did they READ the fucking book when they did this?!" Then he ducked his head and tried to hide his chuckles as I continued to rant about how his was exactly the kind of crap Ray Bradbury was warning about. How society and Hollywood whitewash truth and omit concepts to placate the masses and tell people what they think they should see and hear. I had a A+ in that class. Mr. Fred and I got along well despite his love of Shakespeare and my love of metal music.

Fahrenheit 451 is a novel about a fireman named Guy Montag, whose job it is to burn books. He burns them because conflicting ideas and introspective prose make people 'unhappy'. His boss tells him it's a bad idea to let people think for themselves.

But his bosses words no longer have meaning, because he's already met Clarisse. She's weird and makes him question things. She talks funny and puts new thoughts in his head, until he breaks down and reads some books. Which is dangerous to his well being. I don't want to tell you more. I want you to read it for yourself.

I have strong opinions about religion, politics and the state of the world, but I chose to censor myself. I tried not to get into arguments on-line. Sometimes it's because I don't have enough information, or because I don't have time to get into arguments with strangers who won't be dissuaded anyway. Besides everyone is entitled to an opinion. But honestly, sometimes I didn't say anything because I worried how it will affect my book sales. I recognize myself in the cowardly Professor Faber who Montag befriends. And I'm done hiding what I really think. My New Years Resolution is to speak my mind, express myself, and damned what anyone else thinks.

No doubt you've heard of Ray Bradbury's predictions? His 'Family' who Montag's spaced out wife is so obsessed with could mirror wide screen TV's, with American Idol screaming at you to vote for your favorite.  The violence of The Walking Dead numbs us and entertains us. (Yes, I am one of the guilty) The media inundates us with the Kardashians, Beyonce and Justin Bieber while Ukraine riots and children go missing in Nigeria. Montag's wife wore 'Seaschells' in her ears rather than talking to anyone. (I am the guiltiest person I know for this. I used to LIVE in my headphones, and I still do when I want to shut out the world.) Did I mention DARPA has been working on mechanical hounds for years?http://www.defenseindustrydaily.com/darpas-robot-dog-project-03457/


                                 ***************************************************

Worse than our own government trying to shut us up is extremists using religion and death to voice their disagreement. I had this blog written last week, but two days ago terrorists stormed the offices of Charlie Hedbo in France and killed 12 people because they were offended by this:

"100 whip lashes if you don't die of laughter."

Sometimes I don't know why I read this book over again. Then I check my Facebook, and do you know what's trending right now? How Jimmy Fallon missed Nicole Kidman's come-on ten years ago and they had an awkward moment on his show. THAT'S what's important to the world right now.

Good thing I have two copies of Fahrenheit 451. I might have to start memorizing. If you read Fahrenheit 451, you'll understand why.

I Don't Want to be Pushy...Honest.

Photo by Karen Bursey

I just read an article that makes me feel as though I've been scolded. And rightly so. Here's the link:

http://www.jroseallister.com/2013/05/why-authors-shouldnt-promote-books-on.html?m=1


It talks about how writers have become those aggressive sales people of social media, and she's absolutely right.

When I started this blog, I did it in 'Thoeba's' character, to give readers a feel for her. Then maybe they might buy the book.

After awhile, I found it harder and harder to come up with new and interesting things for Thoeba to think about our planet. She experienced fashion, transportation, camping, caffeine, various human holidays along with the food that goes with it. She learned how to use a credit card and she hates aerobic exercise combined with Disco music.

It occurred to me that if I wanted to keep up the blog, I would have to come up with something else. So I decided to be myself.

I have this theory...If you like the author, you're going to like the book he or she wrote. If you don't like this blog, most likely you won't enjoy my work, right? I still believe that, but I may have strayed a bit.

I'm on Facebook as myself and an author page with my name as well. Donna Milward and Donna Milward, Author. I'm also on Twitter @DonnaMilward. Plus of course, Goodreads and Smashwords.

My personal page is where I post about my feelings and opinions, as well as life stuff, silly statuses and cat pictures.

My author page is where I publish all writing related things, such as my own author posts, other author promotions as well as writing related cartoons and articles.

TWITTER however...I post links from mostly author pages, and my own best friend is so BORED with my feed, she is thisclose to unfollowing me. She doesn't read much so she looks for my blog, reads it, retweets it and ignores the rest. And why wouldn't she?

I've become a pusher for book addicts, and I'm sorry.

So I'm going to turn over a new leaf, and I'd love some feedback. How's the blog? The author page?

www.facebook.com/DonnaMilwardAuthor  Twitter might take more thought. What do you think? What would you like to see?