1.  I finally caved and decided to do this silly factoid game.  If I tagged you, it's because you tagged me.  That's right - all ten of you.  Yes, that's a total cop out fact.  You only get twenty four.

2.  I was born in California, lived there until I was two in 1989.  After the big quake, my mother and I moved into her mother's house in Binghamton, NY while my father stayed behind to sell the house.  The only thing I remember about my grandmother's house is the carpet.  A year or so after that, they bought the house in New Jersey, and that's where I lived until I went to college and then moved out.  I lived in the city of Rochester for about a year and a half, then I moved to the business district where I've lived for the past year and a half.  On December 28th, I'll be moving back to my parent's house.

3.  I only use these pens: the Pilot VBall Grip with an Extra Fine tip.

4.  I have always got a cup of coffee or tea sitting next to my computer when I'm doing anything.

5.  I hate the feel of dirt on my feet.  It's a fairly new development however, because I used to do everything barefoot.  Now I can barely wear sandals without being immensely grossed out.  Beaches make me cranky because of the sand.  It's gritty and disgusting and it feels like it sticks to the bottom of my feet for weeks afterwards.

6.  I saw a book today.  It was called Twilight and Philosophy.  It made me want to go on a shooting rampage through the Barnes & Noble, until I thought of all the poor innocent books that would have been torn up.  Here's an excerpt from the fucking genius that is that book.  headfuckingdesk.


7.  I have pretty decent knowledge of the Tarot, and am halfway decent at giving reading.  I have five different decks I can choose from when I decide to work with them.

8.  I believe in Faeries and Dragons.  Now, that's not really as strange as it sounds.  A lot of people believe in Guardian Angels, they get pish-poshed far less often than I do.

9.  I have a Catwoman Lego key chain.  One of her arms is broken though - her entire right hand is missing.

10.  I have a big aloe plant, which I just realized I forgot to water this week. Good thing they're desert plants.

11.  My middle name is Elizabeth, after my father's sister who died in a motorcycle accident before I was born.  My parents planned on making it my first name but apparently the name was too big for such a "small baby."  I wish I had met my aunt; a motorcyclist in the Air Force?  She must have been pretty awesome.

12.  I'm not sure anymore if I want to go to college for Education.  I'm thinking about switching to Occupational Therapy with a concentration in Autistic Children.

13.  I am obsessed with bats.  I love them.  So much.  Aren't they adorable?!

14.  I used to be able to quote the entirety of the Fellowship of the Ring, the film (duh), but now I can only quote the first big speech.  Don't ever watch that movie with me.  I hear it's not a fun experience.

15.  I'm left handed.

16.  I have an addictive personality as I'm sure you can tell by reading my blog.  Luckily I haven't been terribly addictive with substances or self harm stuff, but I focus all of my energies elsewhere.

17.  I am the sane one in my family.  My mother's a paranoid, depressed, controlling, manipulative, crazy.  My father's too afraid to have his own opinion.  My one sister is a really bad pothead and has started dabbling in harder stuff.  My other sister is a recovering anorexic who cuts a lot.  I'm just depressed, failed out of one college, and don't know what I want from life.  Yeah, I'm the sane one.  Weird.

18.  I talk too much.

19.  I've discovered a new found appreciation for heels.  For 22 years I only put on heels for job interviews. In the past month I've discovered that they're a really subtle touch to make me feel sexier.  Whether it makes anyone else think I'm prettier, I don't much care.  However, they make me feel prettier to me.  Yes, Lens barely wears makeup lives in jeans and tee shirts and wears heels.  It's strange for me too.

20.  I'm really enjoying my ASL class.  I've never before wanted so badly to be fluent in a language.

21.  I hate packing.  I will wait until the 27th of December to do any serious packing to move back in with my parents.  Lucky for me, most of my shit is clothing and books plus a few boxes of candles and figurines.  Easy to pack at least.

22.  I'm a coffee addict.

23.  I'm really bad at video games, but I enjoy playing them in groups.  I'm really bad.  I mean, really fucking bad.

24.  Pirate Booty with Aged Cheddar is my favorite snack.

25.  My cats are meowing to be fed.  Their dinner time was almost an hour ago.  Bye now.

His face lit up with an innocent joy as he placed the Webkinz Fox and Bakugan cards on the counter.  He meticulously counted out his quarters and nickels with a silly grin on his face.  His ancient Pokemon shirt was threadbare and his jeans were torn from tumbles taken on his bicycle.  He wore a sticker that read, 'Hello, my name is Joe.' 

As the machine beeped, reading the barcode on the fox, his grin widened and he reached for the stuffed animal.  "I'll take that now, please."  Tucking the creature into his armpit, he continued to count out his quarters.  The machine beeped again, adding the cards to his purchase.  His math was impeccable.  Before the computer even gave him the total, he knew what it was - tax and all.

"Have a nice day, Joe."  His face, dirty from a long day of work at some minimum wage job seemed to split with the effort of smiling even wider than he already was smiling.  He left, clutching the Webkinz in a suffocating embrace.


The image of Joe stayed with me all day.  He was 45, maybe 50 years old, around my uncle's age, I imagined.  His contagious, easy smile and happy innocence reminded me of my uncle in ways that I didn't know existed.  My uncle, the man who was put in a home when he was far too young for disabilities that were not debilitating.  Joe was a functioning part of society.  The name tag and the money told me that he was able to hold down a job.  He seemed so happy.  Don't get me wrong, my uncle's in a wonderful place, a farm in matter of fact, and he does a lot of the jobs around the farm and he loves it there.  But, he was sent away when he was very young.  He was never given a chance to be a part of the "regular" society.  I can't help but wonder how he would have been different had he been allowed to grow into the modern world like Joe has. 

There is something in both mens' stories - my uncle's and Joe's - that makes me profoundly sad; and there's something in both mens' stories that makes me smile.  While Joe did seem to be a part of the modern world, I'm not sure if he had family taking care of him and from the state of his dress and his dirt crusted self, I would warrant he didn't.  My uncle was never given the chance to be a part of the "real" world, but he lives with a beautiful family of Amish who treat him and their other charges as their own.

Through My Lens:

Tristam is basically a natural scientist.  When he is asked to court to find out why a mysterious herb being used to keep the King alive is no longer producing seeds, he is drawn into a political battle that seems to revolve around himself.  Of course, he has no idea what either side of this battle actually want from him, or what this herb does - though it seems to have addictive properties.  It is a world without magic, however, Tristam seems to attract strange happenings where ever it is that he goes. 

Fluff, fluff, and more fluff.  This book was about 600 pages, and for every six pages there was only one that actually advanced the plot.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for detailed descriptions but when it's overbearing and the writing style isn't good enough to support it, it becomes boring.  When one spends the entire novel wanting to cross out entire sections because it doesn't look like an Editor actually even glanced at the transcript, it doesn't bode well.

I was hoping for some more fantastical elements.  The entire novel revolves around this strange political struggle that is not explained fully.  It's hard to read, overly stuffed with useless information, and confusing.  All in all, not a good novel - though it had some potential.

I will most certainly not be reading the rest of this series.

Publisher's Weekly
The compelling first volume in a series titled Moontide and Magic Rise bodes well for the ones to follow. Russell (The Initiate Brother) introduces Farrland, a world similar to our own but caught in a struggle between magic and science. The story follows the adventures of Tristam Flattery, who epitomizes this conflict and holds the key to Farrland's destiny. A young man well known as a botanist and naturalist, Tristam constantly endeavors to free himself from any affiliation with magic. This is fruitless, considering that he was raised by his great uncle Erasmus, the last of the great mages. Summoned by Roderick Palle to help the king, Tristam discovers Kingsfoil, a plant that can cure disease and prolong life; unfortunately, the plant itself is ailing. Roderick, the king, and the Duchess of Morland believe that Tristam's physic powers will revitalize the plant. When this fails, Tristam, the duchess and a band of wily sailors start out for Varua, the home of Kingsfoil. What follows is an incredible adventure at sea during which Tristam's special powers become increasingly evident, saving the wayfarers' lives and leading them to archeological treasures. A spectacular beginning of what is sure to be a successful fantasy series.

The soft fabric digs at my chewed at fingertips.  The scent of mothballs, dried sweat, and stale closet air wafts through my nose.  Stacks of clothing surround me, each piece with it's own set of memories.
This dress was modified and shortened by one of my best friends at college.  These sweat pants that say "Allentown" on the side, came from my high school: New Jersey - not Pennsylvania, thank you very much. This tee shirt came from the first NEARfest that I arrived in time to receive a size small.  This pair of pants was given to me by my best friend's mother when she lost a ton of weight.  This skirt came from a dumpster diving mission, but the elastic bit the dust.  This bodice came from my first, and probably only, trip to the Renaissance Faire.  These tee shirts came from woot.com, a site that Adrian and I still check on a daily basis.  This pair of gauchos was worn on the first "Talk Like A Pirate Day," that I participated in.  This shirt, was my mother's, it is a tour shirt from King Crimson's Discipline.  I wore this pair of shoes every day for almost two years.  These wife beaters I started wearing during guard practice because womens' "boyfriend beaters" didn't allow me to move as fluidly.  This couple of shirts came from my Hot Topic phase - before it was trendy to shop at Hot Topic; remember how my friends used to be literately afraid of the store?  This pin, ah, this pin is the pin that each of my friends from college have; one Christmas we made these for them as a sign of friendship.
Stories, stories, stories.  Oh, the stories our possessions could tell if only they could speak.  I almost cried going through my old clothing for a goodwill trip.  These clothes were only taking up space in my closet, never even were they looked at.  I dubbed a number of old tee shirts "hanger shirts," or shirts that are falling apart or don't fit, but have too much emotional value to get rid of.  Concert shirts that make me smile, even though they haven't fit me in years or have been worn so often they're beginning to shred; shirts that had been painted on for guard, but are again too small and rather uncomfortable; they're all wonderful.

GoodWill allows these pieces of clothing to continue their journey.  I love wearing used clothing because there's a story there, just under the surface.  It feels like I just need to brush the surface and my mind will be open to all these stories that I cannot even fathom.