Review: Own The Wind by Kristen Ashley

I felt like I just went through an emotional havoc. I need a minute before i can start to write anything, or think anything. This is one BIG emotional roller coaster after another. 

People, you may think that this is one of your typical alpha delicious KA male, but you seriously have something coming if you think that's all it is. I'm talking SOA type of characters, SOA type of dialogue, angst, drama, death and grief, so much fucking grief. 

So buckle up and enjoy the ride, because it sure as hell going to bumpy as fuck!  

Can I just start off by saying how much I absolutely love KA? Like I am in love with every single word that she spits out into writing, I fucking worship the ground she walks on and religiously memories the lines like it's a freaking Bible, or Torah, or the Quran, or whatever else people pray to these days. 

 You're the fucking shit, KA!

   

 Ok, moving on from my state of religious worship, let's get down to all the gritty, sexy, angst stuff that KA will throw at us. 

 You know when the writing isn't the most perfectly structural thing in the world, or the grammar isn't all pretty and and words all fancy, yet you still ind beauty in the book? Yeah, that was me. That's how I found the book. 

There wasn't a vast vocabulary or pretty descriptions of houses and tress and shit like that. There was descriptions of emotions, of pure raw feelings of Tab and of Shy. Dialogues that brought tears to my eyes and a tight lump to my throat. This is the kind of descriptions and writing I am talking about. It's not full of paragraphs that are indented or flowery. It's real, it's realistic, it's life. I loved it. It was beautiful, heartbreaking and so real.

“I dreamed a dream,”

“You’ll dream more dreams, baby.” 

“I’ll never dream,”

 

 It's just so sad and so miserable that it hits you. That Tab is dying on the inside, living day by say as if she's moving through the motions, not living, not existing, just surviving. 

 And then, Shy steps in. Shy who's had feelings for the this girl who he'd knows since she was 19 crying, breaking down, not being herself. He fixes her. Her gives her something to live by, to be strong, to let go, to forget. It's a beautiful journey of healing, of friendship, of falling in love. It's so utterly raw that you never doubt them, you never doubt their feelings or their intentions. Because they know that this is forever. This is something too beautiful to not take a chance on.

"I’d like to know why you dialed my number tonight, but if you don’t wanna share that shit, that’s cool too. I’ll just say, babe, I’m glad you did. You need a safe place just to forget shit and escape, I’ll give it to you. Tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. That safe place is me, Tabby. But I don’t want that old shit haunting this. Ghosts haunt until you get rid of them. Let’s get rid of that fuckin’ ghost and move on so I can beat your ass at pool.”

 

I don't know if I can explain their feelings, all I can say that you must read to feel at least an ounce of the turmoil they both go through. I think this book deals with grief and healing in a beautiful way. It teaches that being in pain is ok. That you have family, that you have support and crying and not wanting to do anything is also ok, as long as there is someone to hold your hand every step of the way. KA you're the shit, woman. you're the absolute shit.

“It was messed up, crazy, wrong.”

“It was wrong, Ty-Ty. It was… it was messed up. I forgot.” 

“You forgot what, honey?” 

“Everything, Ty-Ty. I was crying when I fell asleep and Shy was holding me, but somehow when we were sleeping he tucked me under him, tucked me close, and I woke up and all I felt was warm. Warm and safe and loved and right. That was all I felt. All I thought. All that went through my mind was how good all that felt.”

Things happen, hence the emotional ride as mentioned in the banning. There is a lot of drama. There is always something that goes wrong that needs to be dealt with, and KA shows how they do it in a such a nonconventional way that it puts all the other MC books to shame. There are so many quotes I want to write out, to show you how beautiful this novel is but I know it just won't be enough to explain how much I love the book. You need to read it.

"I was a part of an us and I was happy. Some motherfucker killed my parents and took that from me, so life forced me to become nothin’ but a me. Now I’m an us again, and that’s what I’ll be with my woman and the family we make until the day I fucking die.”

What I thoroughly enjoyed in this book is the emotional strength, stability and communication between the two leads. Yes Tab and Shy have tons of problems, yes they fight and bicker and are sometimes means an act not very sensible. But there isn't all that misunderstanding and miscommunication shit you see in other books. They see a problem, they talk it out, they deal with it, and then they have make up sex. It's raw, it's hard, but it's fucking awesome!

"So promise me, right now, my dick still inside you, you naked on top of me in my bed, us sharing what we just shared, us having a taste of what it’s like apart and knowin’ we’re better together, you won’t leave me. You won’t go in your head and take off no matter what. You stick with me until there’s nothing to stick to, if that ever happens.”

"Shy Cage never dreamed a dream. Still, he knew, without a doubt since he was holding one in his arms, dreams were real."

This is an absolute must read!

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Frenzied

It's been a long time. Too long for my liking. I've been so busy with school that I haven't gotten chance to write a sentence until tonight! This is a short piece inspired by a song. Hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~

I loved him.

I loved him so much that sometimes I thought the feelings inside me weren’t love. They were some sort of an obsession, desperation to be loved, or loving. They crept inside of me like a fire, burning me whole, and erasing every possible logic and rationality in my mind. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was him. All I saw were his eyes, the vivid green I had committed to memory. All I could feel were his hands on me, the passion behind his warm gaze, his lips on my skin. I felt him. Felt him as if he was part of me, as if he was another half of me, as if he held onto the other side of my heart. I remembered everything about him. Remembered his voice, the low whisper in my ear as he trembled in my arms, as he broke over and over again while I drowned in a high that I never wanted to sober up from. He was everything to me. Every step he took, every breath he took, every word, every touch.

Sometimes, I feared these feelings would be the end of me. I felt empty when he wasn’t there; as if he had taken my soul to wherever he was going. I felt as if my body didn’t belong to me anymore, as if every part of me was his. I was his. Everything, everything was his. I loved him to a point of destruction, to a point that the thought of him being gone would kill me.  Life without him wasn’t life. Life without him was a meaningless path, a dead end.

I knew it wasn’t normal. I knew the insanity and self-destruction behind these so-called feelings I had for him would one day really kill me. I knew that being so attached to someone would bound to get me hurt, to break me to millions of pieces with a point of no return. I knew but I couldn’t careless.  Nothing mattered but him. Nothing mattered but his hands, his touch, his gaze on me. He could kill me, could lie to me, yet it wouldn’t matter. Nothing but my love for him mattered.

There were moments where I questioned myself. Questioned whether I even existed. Whether everything in my head was some sort of an illusion, where I was not there and that it was a dream that I just couldn’t wake up from. I waited, wanted to wake up from the insanity, from this addiction, from a nightmare that depicted a dream. Yet, no matter how long passed, I swam in the sea of him and he never let go of my hand. My eyes were closed in bliss, in a calm that only he could bring me to.  I never wanted to open those eyes again. I started to believe this nightmare like dream as if it was reality. I smiled, laughed, cried, and burned with happiness I never felt in my life.  He was my reality. He was real. Everything about him was as real as it could get. There was no way it could have been a lie. I’d never survive if it weren’t.

But my eyes opened one day. They opened and he was gone. They opened and I stood a shadow of myself. They opened and I felt an empty hollow. They opened and I no longer felt anything at all.

~H.~

Shopping

This is probably one of the most girly, if not the most girly topic I had ever written about in my life.

I have seriously developed a love-hate relationship with this activity and I cannot make up my mind which one to choose.

I mean, shopping is actually therapy to me. I usually find myself going to the mall after my midterms, after handing assignments, after writing quizzes, after a stressful day at work, after wiring my finals...you get the point. I feel brain dead and the only thing I focus on is what's going to match the pair of shoes I bought last week and wether or not the shirt I was trying on would fit this party I am going to.

Literally, stupid and brain dead. Nothing about the world bothers me, I could careless of what is happening around me. I could care less about school, boys, being single forever, and even the fact that I should probably lose some weight to fit into those black pants.

I can feel my IQ levels dropping in a speed I cannot even comprehend as I continue to walk through every store and analyze each and everything that touches my fingers.

Let's now get to the other side. To reality, to how much I hate it.

Let me start with one thing: I am a broke student. I have a nice government loan that I am going to be paying back with interest when I finally graduate next year and I have no idea if I am going to score a job at the accounting firms that I've applied to. I am trying very much to save my money so that I can afford to be jobless for a couple of months after graduation.

When I see clothes, I swear to God, I can hear them talking to me. It's freaking strange and creepy and I can't stop the voices in my head. Buy this, buy that, you need that, you must have that, you can't live without this, it would look so good with that new blue shirt you bought...it's a never ending conversation and a battle I always seem to lose.

In the end I come out spending more than I can afford and it makes me so depressed and unhappy that I start binge eating and feeling sorry for myself. How fucked up is that?

Don't even get me started with how much I hate how I look in some clothes that I start being so angry at the store I hold a grudge for a good couple of months. Take La Vie En Rose for example, stupid ass Lingerie store doesn't have a bra my size. I wish I could just sue them for being discriminatory towards big bobbed girls. On top of that, they have the cutest outfits too. It just makes me cry inside when I can't find a matching bra to the sexy lace attached to it.

I no longer shop at La Vie En Rose indefinitely.

So not only am I a broke student who clearly can't afford all the shit I am buying every couple of weeks, but now the stores that I love don't even have my size. Seriously, it's not fair. It makes me feel fat even though I am not.

I am not the only one in this sinking ship, am I?

The Writing Process

I find myself being asked this question multiple times during the time when my updates are extremely slow and non-existent. How exactly do I get myself focused on writing another emotionally capturing and intense chapter?

This question always gets to me. I mean character development and plot come easily to me, especially as I find myself imagining a certain scene in my head. Everything starts to flow really nicely. But the process itself, before I even get to the imagining, is quite long and frustrating. My latest story deals with mature subject matter, which isn't all happy and full of high school comedy. 

It's raw, intense, at times evil, and downright gritty. Violence and hurt are key emotions and feelings that my characters experience and it's not something easy to write if one does not see these things on a daily basis.

The first answer to this question is music. 

Yeah yeah, I know everyone probably gives this generic answer, but music is a true inspiration to many great writers out there. Sometimes it's the artists' words and sometimes is the haunting melody that really gets inside your veins that you quickly find yourself needing to get the idea out of your system. 

Most of my music on my iPhone is depressing, sad, and downright gloomy. That isn't because I am some depressed individual who escapes into the world of darkness to relieve her pain. No, the music is largely based on the emotions I need to feel to write scenes that I otherwise cannot. 

I am a generally happy person. I read, I crack jokes all the time, I am happy, sad and always all over the place. I am not depressed and I don't lack any love from my family. The idea of the dark story came up to me back in 2005 when I watched a movie about human trafficking. 

Still a freshly new immigrant in Canada, I struggled to understand the language that was still so foreign to me. With great difficulty, I managed to sit down and understand the brutality of the subject and it got to me, so deep the subject still haunts me today. In High School, I advocated the topic and things just went down from there. 

There was something in me, something that was bursting and itching its way through my skin, begging to be let out. At first it was just a small one shot of a woman who is kidnapped. Then it involved a young man trying to save her, and then slowly it was a villain who turned her life around.  

The story kept changing, the characters began seeing other lights, and I began to mature along with my own ideas. And it was all through music that I began to feel everything my characters felt and experienced. I forced myself into darkness and pain so I could write and feel the hurt they did. 

I know it's sounds quite sad and sacrificial on my part—to put myself in such a situation—but it helped me a lot. It helped capture emotions I couldn't even come to understand if it weren't for Damien Rice and Chopin. Pain doesn't have to be something physical to be understood, for me the emotional part that came with it was worse than any beating I could get. 

My second answer to the question would probably be the public. yeah, people. 

I know it's sounds strange, but the only reason I even had the guts to sit down and write something was because I watched others did the same. I was in love with Inuyasha when I was 12 and started reading fan fiction at that time. I encountered and read many stories that gripped my imagination and expanded it to a point that I could see myself creating something as well. 

It continued to Twilight a couple of years later when I physically saw young amateur writers who I had the pleasure of talking to on fan fiction get published right before my eyes. It was truly an inspiring sight and writing almost became easy then. If it weren't for fan fiction, I'd probably never have the guts to sit down and write on paper, let alone post it on a site where millions have access. 

Music and aspiring writers were and still are a true aspiration to my writing process and I will forever be grateful to them for this chance to write a story of my own.  

Mondays

Work Problems Mondays are my biggest death wish. I hate them with passion and I literally sit and count down the minutes till my lunch break and until I am finally free from this hell. It’s not like I am hating on my job, I just hate this one co-worker who I have the displeasure of working with every Monday.

There’s only one word to describe her: she’s a bitch. A high class bitch who is so fucking insecure about herself she has to make others make feel bad to make up for her unhappiness. She’s my assistant branch manager who is in charge of all the representatives. Usually she’s in charge of watching your performance, creating monthly schedules, taking care of admin issues and resolving customer conflicts.

Her job is as depressing as her, I am sure. Maybe that’s why she is so bitter and takes out her anger on us. She has two favorite people for whom she will basically do anything. It’s so freaking annoying. Anytime they need a day off or if they have some kind of a problem she always makes sure to resolve it for them. But when it comes to the others, especially me, she’s downright rude.

I don’t know what I did to her but she doesn’t even say hi to me. I mean fucking seriously? You’re 25 and you don’t have the basic manners learned yet? On Mondays I am in charge of the lobby and making sure everyone’s problems get resolved. We are also required to take down survey’s regarding client satisfaction.

Those surveys are probably the most useless thing made on earth. No one actually bother with them unless a manger is around. When I work however, she constantly asks every single time a client leaves why I haven’t completed the surveys and every time I move from my spot she shoots me dirty looks. It’s so rude and disgusting; I am fighting the urge to walk up to her and slap her across the face. She needs a wake up call; the world does not revolve around her spray tanned face.

She gives me shit all the fucking time. For no reason at all. She’s jealous because the manager is nice to me, she’s jealous because I am performing well and she’s fucking jealous because I freaking exist. She doesn’t even let me take a personal day for religious holidays. I am so upset and hurt by her and I know I shouldn’t let this effect me, especially since I am not at fault. She’s on constant PMS and it makes me wonder if her boyfriend isn’t doing it for her anymore.

I’ve tried being civil to her, tried to greet her regardless of her attitude and even tried to make a conversation. But I refuse to let her step over me like this. If she’s rude, I’ll be rude just as well. I am actually enjoying my job these days but she’s ruining it for me and I refuse to let her get to me.

Please tell me I am not the only one in this ship.

University is Overrated

This is something I wrote last year when I was going through a tough time at school. Somehow reading this now, is very much how I feel like right now. 

I usually don't vent out on school work and stuff like that, but I've become really sick of it lately. Yeah, I get it, I am in my second year, I should be used to this already, I've gone through 3 semesters of the same crap, but seriously, I need a break.

I am sick of the midterms (I've had 5 already in a mere 3 week period), assignments, and essays that prove absolutely nothing to me. I am a business-accounting major but I am starting to hate every single course I am taking. And it isn't because the material is boring or hard to comprehend, I wish it was.At least that was t would make sense that I don't belong in the field but this is something completely different. These midterms are sucking the life out of me. I hate them. I hate the concept of cramming. It serves no use whatsoever in anything. What's the point if I forget everything two weeks later. I'd rather do an assignment in a group or something, where I'd actually learn something, not just memorize the shit of it. 

I wish school was somehow different. I wish it wasn't all theory based. I wish I could go out there and practice the things I learn. But I can't because I haven't earned the degree yet and I have no eperience.

And sometimes, I just wish I went to college instead of university. I am a practical person and sitting and memorizing organizational behaviour, or cost behavious or stock behaviour is just bullshit you learn while you practice. Fuck University  and its stupid overrated reputation. I am better off working making money and learning something while at it, rather than paying thousands of dollars towards courses and content I'd never see again in my life.

H.

My Latest Addiction

So lately I've been obsessed with everything Turkey. And I mean everything. Language, culture, dramas, celebrities, music, and did I forget to mention dramas?

This always happens to me at the worst time. Right when I have three huge, important exams coming up, I remember that I haven't watched this episodes or that I need to catch up with another show and check up on the not so personal life of Kerem Bursin. I mean, seriously? Why? I can't get enough. I've started learning the damn language and speaking it to my parents (who speak Azeri which is thankfully similar so they don't think I've completely become insane).

I can't get enough. I've even started translating dramas into English, which is so hard if it's not your naive language. They have Russian subtitles which I later translate to english with great difficulty because my Russian is equivalent to a 5 year old. It's a long tedious, boring, difficult talk and I really wonder why the hell I do that when my accounting material is easier than that.

Please tell me I'm not the only one in this boat.

H.