I’ve talked on my blog some about the “secular”/Christian artistic divide. I’ve pointed out how much I can’t stand “cheesy” and how some Christian art/fiction/music is the worst cheese around. I also called out some worthless secular tripe.

This morning I heard Nichole Nordeman’s remake of “In Your Eyes”. The entire time I was pining for Peter Gabriel’s raspy voice. Let’s face it. Some songs can’t be improved upon. Nothing beats Peter Gabriel’s original version. Sorry Nichole, though I can’t blame you for wanting to sing it.

For your enjoyment. (I opted for the still with his album cover. The 80′s video was just a little too…cheesy. It was the 80′s after all.)

The lyrics are great too:

In Your Eyes
by Peter Gabriel

love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes

love, I don’t like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes

Click to help provide clean water.

I had a rant composed and ready to go for today’s post. It was about how breaking into publishing is like trying to gain admittance into high school’s most popular clique.

Later in the afternoon I looked through a slide show on MSNBC of the flooding in Pakistan. I didn’t make it very far. After the second picture of a mother consoling her sick diarrhea stricken toddler, I had to quit. My eyes are tearing up thinking about it.

It made me want to kick myself. Here I am worrying about how to get noticed by an agent or publisher while mothers in dire conditions around the world are watching their children fall ill and, in many cases, die.

This world is unbearably cruel. I can sit on my duff, write about myself, try to turn the focus on ‘me’, ‘me’, ‘me’ or I can focus on how to help someone else.

For some reason, God saw fit to trust me with a most amazing, beautiful, precious little boy (and another on they way). I don’t understand why he has chosen to bless me beyond belief.

I’ve mentioned my tech blog in passing a couple times lately. What I haven’t mentioned is:

It’s up and running!

There’s not much going on there at the moment, just a couple introductory posts to give you, the (potential) reader insight into my intents and purposes.

Please click below to check out the posts:

Why DIY? (Introduction Part 1)
Let Me Guide You (Introduction Part 2)

I hope you enjoy (or at least find slightly interesting).

I’ve also included a permanent link to the right under “My Other Blogs”.

I’d love to hear from you, either here or over there.

I want to talk about death for a moment. (Happy Friday!)

I gently touched on the subject at the end of yesterday’s blog post. I didn’t say death. I didn’t say heaven or hell. I just brought up the point that we all have a choice to make and we should make it sooner rather than later.

My Dad died of cancer in 2003. I know he believed in God and was receptive to His promptings. I don’t know if he believed in Jesus. I know he didn’t go to church. I know when he was invited during those last few weeks, he declined.

Just because someone declines church does not mean they decline Jesus. Further, although my church is very adamant about baptism—particularly baptism by immersion—it seems logical to assume if someone accepts Jesus in their last moments, He’s not going to turn them away because they were never immersed.

The night before my Dad died, we prayed aloud for him as a family. During that prayer, I didn’t say “Jesus, I pray my Dad accepts you as his personal savior.” In hindsight, maybe I should have. Or maybe such a comment would have merely hit a brick wall.

I had to believe (and I still have to believe) Jesus knew my heart that night. He knew when I said, “Lord, we just want to be together,” I was praying for mercy on my Dad’s behalf, and that when I said “together” I didn’t mean together here on earth. I meant together in eternity.

I am uncertain of my Dad’s fate. Did he accept Jesus and thereby choose heaven?

The uncertainty is uncomfortable. Painful. I could remedy it by altering my belief system. Adopting a religion/philosophy that negates the existence of satan and hell. There are many to choose from, all incorporating the new-agey idea that it’s all good. All dogs go to heaven and so do all humans. However, when I weigh the evidence—all of it, not just the parts I like—I have to conclude that hell is real and that some people end up there.

I choose intellectual honesty. I embrace the uncomfortable uncertainty of not knowing my Dad’s fate or the fates of family and friends whose eternal destinations are likewise nebulous at best.

We don’t have to leave our family and friends in a state of uncertainty.

I listened to one of my favorite Jars of Clay** songs this morning. The lyrics convey a message that transcends satan, death, hopelessness and the sufferings of this world.

When you choose to cling to the bottom hem of Jesus’ robe, you get to cop a little attitude on the way up. ☺

ALL MY TEARS

When I go don’t cry for me
In my Father’s arms I’ll be
The wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed and I’ll be whole

Sun and moon will be replaced
With the light of Jesus’ face
And I will not be ashamed
For my Savior knows my name

It don’t matter where you bury me
I’ll be home and I’ll be free
It don’t matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away

So weep not for me my friends
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to Him
Who will raise the dead again

** “All My Tears” isn’t actually a Jars of Clay song. The words are lyrics were written by Julie Miller.

As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve redesigned my website. A few things you may notice . . .

1. I have a new URL.
2. I have a new logo.
3. I gave myself a tagline.

I have a new URL

old: www.jdog-ink.com
new: www.jessicathomasink.com

Both URLs are currently pointing to my site. jdog-ink.com will eventually be phased out, so if you are linking to it, please update your link to point to jessicathomasink.com to avoid dead links in the future.

Why the URL change?

I’m Caucasian. People look at me odd when I say J-Dog. Kinda like “Uhhhh….okay.” My response: “It’s my rapper name, G.” Truthfully, it was a short-lived college nickname and although I still appreciate the marketing potential of Jdog Ink, Jessica Thomas Ink is more professional for the time being.

I have a new logo

I have more ideas than is healthy and less follow through than is healthy. That being said, I envision Jessica Thomas Ink as an overarching entity, under which I can create various “divisions” or “imprints”.

I write. I’m techie. I’m musical. I don’t see any of these passions dying. At some point, I may feel compelled to branch out. Jessica Thomas Fiction is just one “imprint” so to speak.

Anyway. New logo. Notice the “t” in the middle. Lowercase. Remind you of something? Need I say more? (I’m so sneaky.)

I gave myself a tagline

(Next will be theme music. It will follow me around wherever I go.)

Why “Choose Your Destination”?

Like I said, I have more ideas than is healthy. Some of those ideas are in the future. Some are in the present. Some are in quirky towns, offices, places that would never exist on any map.

Past. Present. Absurd-ville. Surreal City. Where do you want to go? Choose your destination.

Back to the “t” in my logo. Subtle, eh? I don’t know if I want to target CBA or ABA. Perhaps it will depend on the story. Nevertheless, the cross is part of who I am. Because of the cross, I believe we have a duty, or rather the privilege to decide where we will ultimately go.

It’s a simple question. Do you believe Christ is your savior? Are you willing to follow Him wherever He goes?

Simple question. Eternal consequence. Choose your destination. Post haste.

*drum roll*

This is the official unveiling of my new website! To see it, click here.

If you were familiar with the old design, you’ll recognize some of the “new” pages and text. This is mostly a “look and feel” upgrade: new personal branding, new color scheme, new header.

The home page features my re-branded novel, including new title, new cover art and cover copy.

Please hop on over, take a look around and let me know what you think. Both positive and negative feedback is welcome.

Here it is folks. My re-branded novel.

Old Title: The Exception
New Title: Martyred

I literally decided on the new title last night. Found the background image last night. Mind you this is my forth cover concept and third title.

Awhile back I blogged about how excited I was to have thought of a new title. Well, last week after I finished my rewrite I realized that bright idea wasn’t going to work. I ditched it in favor of “Martyred”. (Ditching it wasn’t easy. I’d already created a cover for it.)

This has been a grueling process. My brain hurts. I have my second bout of preggo heartburn. I need to go to bed.

(Hopefully I will still like the cover when I wake up in the morning.)

Credit goes to Centauria for creating the background image, “Binary Chaos 1″.

WARNING: You may be offended by the upcoming paragraphs.

I don’t get it. I really don’t get it. The joyful noises and cries of victory sparked by the overturning of Prop 8 in California, that is.

Let me start by saying, I don’t want to turn this into a debate about gay marriage. The country is obviously polarized on the issue, and frankly, I’m tired of hearing about it. Besides, it doesn’t matter what I want. It doesn’t matter what you want. My vote doesn’t matter. Your vote doesn’t matter.

We tell our kids, “Rock the vote.” “Get involved.” “Your vote counts.” Pppfffff. Let’s be real. No it doesn’t.

The issue on the table right now happens to be gay marriage, but really you can insert any issue of your choosing.

To the people on the losing side (in this case, those who support gay marriage, but like I just said above, insert “the losing side” of any issue of your choosing), if only you could set down your personal agenda for a moment, stop celebrating, and look objectively at what has happened here:

A pure democratic vote was taken twice…TWICE…and one single, solitary, judge has decided to overturn the results of that vote.

Do we believe in democracy or don’t we? Do we wish to preserve it or don’t we? If we believe in democracy, if we prefer it to dictatorship, then we have to be willing to be the losers sometimes. We have to be willing to accept that we aren’t always going to get our way. We have to accept that sometimes we are going to be offended. That not everyone is going to agree with us, like us or support our decisions.

To the people who are celebrating what I’d call a disappointing defeat for democracy, I pose a question. What happens when you’re on the other side? When you’re in the majority. When you cast your vote and it’s declared meaningless?

Do you want your future votes to mean something? Or are you content to let judges decide what they think is best for you? To me, the latter sounds more like a dictatorship than a democracy**.

** I know, this country is a republic; however, the votes in California were direct expressions of the will of the majority.

‘Backslider’ by The Toadies. Circa 1994. For your listening pleasure** while you read.

I have backslidden. Backslid. Backsled. Slid backwards.

Permit me to complain a moment? I’m pregnant.

The pregnancy has been going very well; however, even with a healthy pregnancy certain symptoms persist. I’m tired. I’m HUNGRY. Both have led me to become lazy with my diet. I’ve found myself eating things like take-out pizza, pasta (from Maggianos), frozen custard, strawberry ice cream.

After four years of (refined) sugar-free living, my palette is very sensitive. It doesn’t take much sweet to “satisfy”. A bite, a few ounces, a measured serving. However small, it’s still enough to remind me why I gave up sugar in the first place.

1. It never truly satisfies (particularly for those of us with addiction in our gene pool). I take my last bite of cookie dough frozen custard and I’m disappointed. I don’t want the experience to be over. I want MORE. LOTS MORE.

2. There’s always a price to pay. A sweet dessert doesn’t come free (again, especially for those of us with addiction in our gene pool). There’s always negative fall-out. A rebound. In scientific terms it’s called beta endorphin withdrawal.

I’m paying the price today. I feel unattractive. I want to pick at my skin. I want to grab a pair of scissors and cut off my hair (darn frizzy mop). I feel like punching something. I’m losing patience with people. I’m distracted by cravings. I feel lethargic. I’m having a hard time focusing. My problem solving skills are impaired.

Addiction: an uncontrollable compulsion to repeat a behavior regardless of its negative consequences.

Some may read this and think I’m overreacting, that I’m blaming sugar for symptoms that are actually pregnancy related, or that they aren’t really symptoms at all, but normal everyday negative emotions that we all struggle with. I’ve been through this cycle hundreds of times. Enough to know it’s not in my head. It’s real. It’s sugar withdrawal. It’s self-inflicted. And it’s not fun.

BAHHHHHH.

** Or displeasure, depending on your musical tastes.

Okay, so I’m not worthless. Still emails like the following tend to spark a twinge of worthlessness or feelings of “nobody cares what I have to say”. (Then I kick myself and get over it.)

Thank you for offering your story to Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show. We’re sorry to tell you that we will not be using it; you are free to submit it elsewhere.

Pretty self-explanatory. I submitted a short story to the above zine and it was rejected on a Saturday afternoon almost one month later. I didn’t read the email until Sunday morning.

I knew I was shooting pretty high. The Intergalactic Medicine Show is on the eligibility list for associate membership in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writer’s of America. As I was trying to decide where to submit my short story I thought, “Hmm, wouldn’t it be neat if I could call myself a member of SFWA” so I picked one of the eligible magazines and gave it a shot. I figured it was a long shot, that I would be rejected, yada yada yada. Another part of me thought what if….

In retaliation, I just submitted my story to another magazine on the list. We’ll see what happens.

Regarding the second half of this post’s title, I have been getting so much spam, ridiculous amounts of spam on my blog. Anything ranging from hardcore porn sites to RV and roofing materials sales. Does someone truly think I might buy an RV based on some random fake praise? “This post was great! Very valuable information. I love your blog!” Gimme a break. I can’t afford an RV and no I don’t want advice on how to get over my ex-boyfriend. I certainly don’t want to watch Ms. Dominatrix pleasure herself with a sex toy (sorry, graphic…but that’s the kind of stuff I’m getting).

Any advice on how to stop the spammers is welcome. I did modify my discussion settings to moderate any previously unapproved commentors. So if you are new here and post a comment, I apologize for the time lag in getting it posted. I don’t want to moderate, but at this point I feel it necessary to protect the eyes of my readers!

FIVE MINUTES LATER…

As I was rubbing nighttime beauty product onto my face I remembered, I can install plugins. I did a quick search and found SI CAPTCHA Anti-Spam. Now when you submit a comment you’ll have to enter a CAPTCHA! code (exclamation point added by me.) Take that you spammers! I turned off moderation. Crossing fingers.