Skip to main content

When did they become 'my' vamps?

Maybe when I retreated to the back of the house and watched multiple episodes at a time, all by myself, in the dark. You know, just to catch up with the series.

Maybe when I started to understand, from both TB the series and multiple other paranormal romance novels in which vamps were often featured, that vamps can be made different ways.

They're not all 'made' by the bite.

Some, it seems, are in fact holdovers from Atlantis and their advanced technology involving nanos to keep everyone eternally young. Unfortunately, nanos feed off of blood cells, and most humans didn't produce enough to feed the nanos, so external blood was required, hence the birth of the vamp myth.

What? I'm just sharing what I've 'heard'.

And then there's the whole bonding thing. Holy gawd. If that whole 'feel what your bondmate feels at all times including when in the throes of passion' thing has any merit? I want to be a vamp NOW.

Just sayin'.

You've got to admit, it's pretty damned funny to be sitting in a champagne bar, very late at night, in Chicago with a male colleague and a male consultant who don't 'get' the universal appeal to women of the vamps and let them in on the little secret. And watch their eyes get big, then roll around as they realize pretty much nobody can do what vamps are alleged to do, um, romantically.

Ok, maybe they're my vamps. But they're also countless millions of other womens', too. Women who go ahead and let their imaginations go to town and lose themselves in the whole fantasy unraveling on TrueBlood and in all of the very popular vamp fiction currently in vogue.

Like J. R. Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood series.

Like Lynsay Sands Argeneau novels.

Like Nalini Singh's psy-changeling series. (not vamps, but super cool and intriguing)


And so on, and so forth.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

On Mondays. And lots of rules.

Mondays can be a challenge. There's the whole shock to the system of waking up and realizing it's not the weekend anymore, which kind of blows. And then the jolt out of the lazy flow of the weekend into the time-focused 'gotta be at the office by x time, gotta get ready for the company meeting, gotta check emails/deadlines to ensure nothing is on fire' stuff. And then the reality of settling into the week...and knowing that this one will be a full one. They all seem to be. This week for me: Work. Lots of good stuff going on, but 'lots' being the watchword. School. 2nd trimester starts. Tomorrow a.m. So tomorrow for me is school, 9-12; work 1230-430; clinic 5-9. Long day, Tuesday. For this I've washed and pressed my lab coat, cleaned out my tote (it is truly amazing what collects during a trimester in terms of used kleenexes, abandoned index cards, folded notes that were important at some point but now are just extra weight, stale snacks, etc.), and ...

It might have been the moon

 The second Super Moon, also a Harvest Moon, just happened. On the same night I had my mini-meltdown. (see prior post). I've talked with several friends who reported intense emotions, mostly around stuff that needs to be released, resolved. When I think about my angst, and how intense it felt, I realize it was all about that kind of stuff. Old stuff, patterns, thinking, habits. So maybe the moon precipitated things. The bubbling up of angst and anger and icky stuff lasted all that night, but had calmed by yesterday morning. Thank gawd, because that was a morass of darkness, the likes of which I haven't experienced in at least a decade. The rest of the weekend has been pleasant. Uneventful. Full of errands, chores, a really nice walk this morning, yummy food, naps, etc. The one thing about energy that feels constant is that no mood lasts forever. Energy continually shifts and morphs, like the Universe knows too much, too long, of any one sentiment just isn't a good idea for ...

The run

I have the body of a sprinter, but always ran long distance. My wind would stabilize, my muscles would synchronize, my mind would clear...at about mile 2.5 and just improve after that. For decades I ran. My high school P. E. teacher, Ms. Vidano, instilled the love of the run, and it remains to this day, long past when I should endeavor to tread the roads for miles and miles. The run sustained me after my (very early life) divorce. The run helped reconnect with a childhood friend, who had ventured far for college but returned for work, and who found me enjoying a post-work cigarette and glass of wine on my balcony one night and said, 'Oh, no, this isn't right. Put that fucking thing out. I'll be here in the morning. We're going shopping, and we're going running.' Loved that. He was right, and he was awesome, and he got me back out of a trench and into my running love zone. Then I met my now love, my man of many years, father of my children, partner in ...