Sister, Sister by Andrew Neiderman

“Two minds. One body. A novel of terror…

“Terror Times Two
“Like laboratory animals, they have been studied and probed since the day they were born. The scientists refer to them as ‘Duplicitas Anterior’. The general public calls them ‘Siamese twins’. The tabloids label them freaks.
“But to Neil Richards, their new teacher, Alpha and Beta are very special children. Alpha is the dreamer; Beta is the doer. Alpha masters the thoughts; Beta controls movement. When Alpha dictates what’s to be done, Beta is her puppet.
“They are the closest sisters on Earth. No one can come between them. And when they put their minds together no one is safe…”

In 1992 were Siamese twins really this outrageous? The first half of the book relies on you to be completely in awe of these ‘freakish’ girls without giving you much information (and wasn’t it always common knowledge that natural light is a requirement for better health? Seems scientist who are studding the human condition, or pretending to do so, would require “subjects” to have some outdoor activity…even when hiding them from the world, for christ-sakes, prisons do it).

Doubt there is any actually scientific information contained. I feel the exact same story could have been written regarding normal twins, not just Siamese twins. I’m sure there are actually, it’s all quite familiar with Carrie (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074285/) and Firestarter (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087262/).

But after plodding my way through (over half the 292 paged paperback), I’ve finally gotten to some substance…but a “novel of terror”? Kids are scary, kids with “mind control” possibilities, quite a bit scarier…but not used to it’s full potential. And the “mad scientists” lair could have had some many “freakish” possibilities; even a connection with the “subjects” would of made the scenario more disturbing.

The ending is quite predictable, but I did enjoy the short conversation with the schizophrenic child.

Not likely to read again…anyone want?

Finally Getting off my Lazy Blogging Ass

I doubt anyone checks for updates anymore but...

I have decided to write about something I think about and do everyday...BOOKS...I read them, love them, hate them and will now review them (and oh how this hurts...hate most reviewers).

Well that's the plan, hopefully I'll follow through...

Currently I’m ready a little number I picked up from a “closing down sale” for $2.50…

Sister Sister by Andrew Neiderman…“Two minds. One Body. A novel of terror…”

So far, a slow start…

Past, Present and Future

Well, it’s certainly been a while since I last posted anything…”life”, it actually happens…who would of thought.

The three main things I’ve been contemplating recently are:

1. My past
2. Happiness
3. Career

When it comes to my past, I have analysed and, in almost all instances (stupid to believe it’s all), accepted. But now and then something would bring the “past” to the “present”. Today is such a day and after a few moment of contemplation I think I’ve gotten the gist of why a certain period of time in my past still affects me…

Pride

1. A high or inordinate opinion of one's own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.

I can’t seem to except that my presence in someone’s life meant absolutely nothing.

In the scheme of things, it was a very short period of time for everyone concerned. Now other similar scenarios in my past do not affect me as such, so why this one? I didn’t give myself to these people. I can honestly say not one of them truly knew me, and in many instances I did not know them. Any pain caused to me I have accepted as a result of my own submissiveness. But even with all this in my mind, I can’t contemplate that they don’t think of me, even just a smidge. I honestly don’t care if these people are in my life or not but I still spend a day every now and then wishing one of them would just call cause their fucken curious to know what the hell happened to me. Maybe I just want to stick it to them? “Look at me. ME! Finally found (was there the whole time, who would of thought)”.

Maybe over time it fades…but hasn’t there been enough time? I don’t care about them (just my usual curiosity that I would have over anyone who has played a part, even a bit part, in my life), so why should they care about me?

Cause I’m fucken wonderful, that’s why…lol…problem with gaining self worth I guess. Seems everything has a bit of a down side…Ying and Yang man!

Happiness

1. The quality or state of being happy.
2. Good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy.

Once I start using the dictionary it takes a bit of control to stop…but I’ll try.

As mentioned above, life has decided to keep me on my toes. Just as I had settled into a lifestyle, the powers that be set me a curve ball. Now this is not a bad thing, accepting is just hard.

The majority of the time, I’m happy, and this is very strange for me. The times I’m not happy are usually when I’m alone picking at my happiness (for how can “I” be happy?). It’s all strange and I’m a bit scared and not quite sure what to do.

I’m trying not to over analyse the whole situation but my mind refuses to turn off when I’m alone and I refuse to give up alone time cause what my “self-discovery” has made me realise is that I am quite content and capable being on my own (plus no one likes everything that you do).So it’s just one more thing I have to come to terms with…”you’re happy, fucken deal with it (why are all the things I have to “come to terms with” are actually good for me? You’d think the shit bits of life would be hard to accept)!”.

I guess I just don’t know if I can take another hit. I mean there’s only one way to truly know if I can and, if I’m lucky, I might never know…but could I sit back and never test it?

Change is hard…not changing is just fucken boring.

Now the worst part is that previously my life was on an even scale. I felt the same about everything...I was coasting and quite content. Now that a part of my life is lighter, the rest falls into the depths. In other words...I REALLY FUCKEN HATE MY JOB! I feel as if it's sucking out my soul through a straw of jagged glass...now I know how good I can feel, I realise how bad this is (maybe that’s why accepting my happiness is so difficult, have some resentment over experiencing something greater than I have in the past).

So, once again, I’m contemplating a change of career (to actually having one). I really hate it when I do this, as it drive’s me up the fucken wall. Ever since I was sixteen people have been asking, “What do you want to do with your life?”. And every time I have no fucken clue. I know the difference between a hobby and a profession. I know that to make money (well, enough money) you can not love your job completely. I accept this, but still have no idea how to make money and be happy at the same time. All I want is some direction, cause standing in the middle of a major intersection, with multiple turn off’s, and asked to pick a direction without the aid of street signs is how I feel about the whole bloody mess.

I know I don’t want an office job…I’d love to physically do something. So I might actually think I’ve contributed to something…anything. But what? Everything I think of has a down side…maybe I’m just scared of changing…I’ve been doing the same crap since I was seventeen…

Does my fucken head in every time!

Change is hard…not changing would probably kill all that is me.

A Product of Genetics or Upbringing?

Most of the time I believe my current state of being is based largely on my upbringing. Many situations in my past could have quite easily taken a different path. But every now and than, something would come up which would make me think that the paths I have chosen where not chosen at all.

Music being the most prime example.

It was once said to me that I prefer poets to musicians. I love a good song, but if it doesn’t say something with some thought or meaning it doesn’t last long in my consciousness. My favourite all time artists are Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave who both can tell an amazing story with the accompaniment of music.

Now is this because of my years in high school hiding in the library, getting my hands anything that resembled the darkness I felt was within, or was I born with attachment to the emotional (some overtly)?

Favourite songs from the time I used to call my happiest (I’m quite liking my current state of being):

Shakespeares Sister – Stay
Soul Asylum – Runaway Train
R.E.M – Everybody Hurts
R.E.M – Losing my Religion
Don McLean – American Pie
Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody

I mean, I was eight years old and loving the part in “Stay” where she was dressed resembling the devil (well, what I thought) and sang:

You'd better hope and pray
That you make it safe
Back to your own world
You'd better hope and pray
That you'll wake one day
In your own world
Because when you sleep at night
They don't hear your cries
In your own world
Only time will tell
If you can break the spell
Back in your own world

Maybe it all happened the way it did cause it was the only way for me…

Bogan* Watching

Well, missed Winter Magic on the weekend but I did partake in something that I haven’t done in a while…sit at a pub and chat to Bogan’s. Now this wasn’t the plan, but you stick me in a situation where alcohol is consumed and, who knows why, I end up having quite lengthy conversations with the strangest people. This has happened by entire drinking life and it’s good that I’m an avid people watcher, otherwise I might not see the funny side to all this.

Most of my friends have commented over time and all have their reasons why I seem to be the target for this Bogan phenomenon but I can just not see a night out on the piss without this occurring at least once.

So Friday night I met a country boy who came to chat so his mate would feel comfortable coming over for a chat…spent quite a bit of time dribbling bull about tax returns…TAX…I ignore THAT subject as much as humanly possible (even during tax time, which reminds me…better not do that again this year)…than after escaping, went to another pub where got into a conversation about who knows what with Bogan’s of the older persuasion, which can be much more entertaining but don’t always laugh when you talk back to them.

But the Bogan highlight of the night was a chick, which I have never met in my life, came up to me, give me a big hug, told me I was her best friend and than left…as I said…highly entertaining…(that and the man taking the piss out of drag queens by singing ABBA in a bad frock and an even worse wig…though he did do the Proclaimer’s in a kilt).
But something did happen that has never happened before and will be talked about for some time, I’d be thinking. Got a lift home in a street sweeper. Who can f*cken say that…lol…really strange sitting in a truck with a steering wheel in front of you turning all by it’s self. Hope the poor block didn’t get in too much trouble for the smashed windscreen.

*If your offended by the term "Bogan" or the way I'm using it, I mean no offence. I have meet some really interesting and wonderful people in my life who, not only would I refer to as Bogan's, but would also refer to themselves as Bogan's. Bogan culture rocks…I’m such a f*cken “Westie”…lol...