Shannon > Recent Status Updates

No matter how many times I tried to push Tori's death to the back of my mind, the memory of that day still haunted me. But I could taste my father's hopefulness like powdered sugar on my tongue, and I knew that deep down, he still believed I was his good little girl. Maybe even believed, in spite of everything, that I was sane.
I couldn't bear to let him down.

Starting to feel like Girl, Interrupted ...

And now she's worried that nurses/doctors in a psychiatric ward would think she's crazy because of her synesthesia. Um, I would hope not, considering it's something they should know exists.

Would someone who had synesthesia really be so ostracized? I mean, I know kids get picked on for all sorts of things, but her mom flies off the handle about it more than I think is necessary. She's treating it as if her daughter can see ghosts or something.

Once upon a time there was a girl who was special. Her hair flowed like honey and her eyes were blue as music. She grew up bright and beautiful, with deft fingers, a quick mind, and a charm that impressed everyone she met. Her parents adored her, her teachers praised her, and her schoolmates admired her many talents.
This is not her story.
Unless you count the part where I killed her.

O__O

Hey everyone, did you know some book reviewers are Airheads, Asshats, or Artistes? A new blog that reviews reviewers? Lovely.

Ok, no drama today, authors. I'm seriously getting behind with work and I can't afford to refresh and comment all day. At least wait until I get home to act like an asshole.

Must. stop. refreshing goodreads, and get some actual WORK done today.

First blocked by an author, now I think my notifications have blocked me as well. Today's an interesting day.

A big, muscular, WASP-looking football-player type who looked as if he had been snatched from the pages of an Ambercrombie & Fitch catalog, was chatting with a well-dressed Asian guy behind him. To Ignacio, he looked like one of the anime characters from those late-night shows on the Cartoon Network.

Good, he thought. I may be the only Mexican here, but at least they have an Asian.

: |

Nike, iPods, and J.Crew all mentioned on page 1? : |

GR has been so good for so long, then when I decide to update challenges and things like that, it craps out on me. Way to be, GR. Way to be.

My resolution? Spend less time wasting time and also attempt to become pain-free. (That's what I asked for when I blew out my candles, at least.) : (

I don't know if I can muster the necessary energy to write a proper review, but I know it'll be a doozy if I do. Extreme hyperbole, horrible writing gimmicks, a heroine who doesn't know she's gorgeous and has every male fawning over her, and ripping off the x-men (in more ways than one), ended up drowning an otherwise compelling story. It's a shame, really.

I slip them on and tip up on my toes, luxuriate in the feeling of my new outfit. I feel invincible. I really wish I had a mirror for once in my life. I look from Kenji to Adam to Winston. "What do you think? It is ... okay?"
Kenji makes a strange noise.
Winston looks at his watch.
Adam can't stop smiling.

Nooo, Kenji. If only you could see inside her head, you'd know she's a boner-killer.

"No," he whispers, hot hot hot against my lips. "You look like a superhero."

Someone's just realized he has a fetish. Ugh.

I stop walking, stunned. Horrified. "You think this is a competition? To see which magic trick is more twisted? To see who can inflict the most pain?"
"That's not what I meant—"
"I don't think it's interesting to be able to kill someone by accident. I don't think it's interesting to be afraid to touch a living thing."
"I didn't mean it like that ..."

Settle down, girl. Dial it back a notch.

Adam pulls back just a tiny bit. Kisses my bottom lip. Bites it for just a second. His skin is 100 degrees hotter than it was a moment ago. His lips are pressed against my neck and my hands are on a journey down his upper body and I'm wondering why there are so many freight trains in my heart, why his chest is a broken harmonica.

Say what now? A broken harmonica? I don't even understand this analogy.

I'm blushing through my bones.

This girl's anatomy sure is screwed up.

"So you're ... corporeal?" I ask.
"Look at you, using big fancy words." Kenji crosses his arms.

I could kiss Kenji for this comment. I wish he was the main character.

Two girls with exactly the same green eyes are staring at us. They smile at the same time. Their long brown hair is thick and stick-straight in high ponytails on their heads. They're wearing matching silver bodysuits. Gold ballet flats.
"I'm Sonya," the girl on the left says.
"I'm Sara," her sister adds.
"It's so nice to meet you," they say at exactly the same time.

Deranged wonder twins, go!

My jaw is dangling from my shoelace.
I can't catch my breath. I can't find my feet. I can't cough up the impossibility caught in my throat.

I can't believe some of the sentences in this book.

I catch his double meaning. Acknowledge it. "Touché, Mr. Castle."
A pause. "You are French, Ms. Ferrars?"

He thinks she's French just because she said touché? Way to jump to conclusions there. Some of the leaps and thought processes her characters take just do not make any sense.

"There is still a chance to change things. We can provide fresh drinking water to all people. We can make sure crops are not regulated for profit; we can ensure that they are not genetically altered to benefit manufacturers."

So, now this book is advocating socialism. Lovely.

"Welcome," Castle says to me, gesturing with one hand, "to the X-Mansion."

...

Whoops, that quote should say, "to Omega Point." Not sure where that typo came from.

He smiles with teeth so white it looks like snow falling on the chocolate valleys of his face.

First hair that's like chocolate, now a face that is. Mafi might have had some hormonal issues while writing this. Or she was touring a candy factory.

My neck snaps up to meet his dark eyes, his smooth voice, silky and strong.

You mean your head snaps up, right? Because your neck shouldn't "snap."

My mouth is sitting on my kneecaps.

"Good luck," is all Winston says to me. 1,320 seconds walk into the room before he does.

Sigh ...