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Frieda T

Frieda T

has 52 followers and is following 37 people

Born and raised in the Northeast, first generation American, feminist, opera-loving, rollerblading, artsy author.

I'm the loud librarian, the bad bard, and the decent docent.
(photo by Wendy Voorhis)

I'm the co-author of two nonfiction books, and the author of one picture book, __Help__Wanted__ now available through Amazon.... more »
  • member since June 14, 2008

Public Notes

 
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Displaying 1-20 of 209 notes
  • paikea

    paikea says

    Frieda!! - we have so enjoyed having you in our group! Please reconsider leaving Shelfari:) If you don't, however, keep up the good fight! - Sincerely, paikea

    posted 11 months ago. ( send a note )
  • maryanneraphael

    maryanneraphael says

    Thanks for you warm welcome and words of consolation for the loss of my mother. Before I went home to help my mother leave this world I wrote 125 pages of my new book. I even took my laptop home with me. I wrote one page in Ohio and the next day began caring for mother. I have not written one word in my book since then. She died November 20th. I am writing little notes like this and words in my journal and waiting for the strength to return to my book A PASSION FOR PEACE Maryanne

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Kelsie G

    Kelsie G says

    Oh my goodness I loved The Rules of Survival! It was a wonderful book.

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • T Cubed

    T Cubed says

    :D bit of a Prattchett-o-phile

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Anthony

    Anthony says

    Hey there,

    Just wanted to let you know that I have started reading mindblind.

    So far it seems to be a really good book..

    Thanks for suggesting it to me.

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Claudia Moscovici

    Claudia Moscovici says

    Frieda, If you and our fellow shelfari readers are interested in sampling for free brand new fiction online, I'd like to let you know about my new novel, The Seducer, which is now featured on Neatorama's Bitlit.

    The Seducer is a psychological thriller about dangerous love and psychopathic seduction. This novel may be particularly interesting to female readers, who have been burned by bad men. You can preview sample chapters from it on Neatorama’s Bitlit, by cutting and pasting the link below.

    http://www.neatorama.com/bitlit/2010/12/20/the-seducer-part-i-chapter-1/

    You can also watch a video preview of the novel on youtube, by cutting and pasting the following link:

    http://www.youtube.com/user/ClaudiaMoscovici

    Please find below a more detailed description of The Seducer:

    My native country, Romania, is best known for a fictional character, Dracula, which is only loosely based on a historical fact: the infamous legend of Vlad Tepes. Novels that draw upon this legend—ranging from Anne Rice’s genre fiction, to the popular Twilight series, to Elizabeth Kostova’s erudite The Historian–continue to be best sellers. Yet, ultimately, no matter how much they may thrill us, the “undead” vampires we encounter in novels are harmless fictional characters that play upon our fascination with evil. However, real-life vampires, or individuals who relish destroying the lives of others, do exist. We see them constantly featured in the news and, if we don’t know how to recognize them, sometimes we even welcome them into our lives.

    What do O. J. Simpson, Scott Peterson, Neil Entwistle and the timeless seducers of literature epitomized by the figures of Don Juan and Casanova have in common? They are charming, charismatic, glib and seductive men who also embody some of the most dangerous human qualities: a breathtaking callousness, shallowness of emotion and the fundamental incapacity to love. To such men, other people, including their own family members, friends and lovers, are mere objects or pawns to be used for their own gratification and sometimes quite literally discarded when no longer useful and exciting. In other words, these men are psychopaths.

    My novel, The Seducer, shows both the hypnotic appeal and the deadly danger of psychopathic seduction. It traces the downfall of a married woman, Ana, who, feeling alienated from her husband and trapped in a lackluster marriage, has a torrid affair with Michael, a man who initially seems to be caring, passionate and charismatic; her soul mate and her dream come true. Although initially torn between love for her family and her passion for Michael, Ana eventually gives in to her lover’s pressure and asks her husband for divorce. That’s when Michael’s “mask of sanity” unpeels to reveal the monstrously selfish psychopath underneath, transforming what seemed to be the perfect love story into a psychological nightmare. Ana discovers that whatever seemed good about her lover was only a facade intended to attract her, win her trust and foster her dependency. His love was nothing more than lust for power, fueled by an incurable sex addiction. His declarations of love were nothing but a fraud; a string of empty phrases borrowed from the genuine feelings of others. Fidelity turned out to be a one-way street, as Michael secretly prowled around for innumerable other sexual conquests.

    To her dismay, Ana finds that building a romantic relationship with a psychopathic partner is like building a house on a foundation of quicksand. Everything shifts and sinks in a relatively short period of time. Seemingly caring, and often flattering, attention gradually turns into jealousy, domination and control. Enjoying time together becomes isolation from others. Romantic gifts are replaced with requests, then with demands. Apparent selflessness and other-regarding gestures turn into the most brutal selfishness one can possibly imagine. Confidential exchanges and apparent honesty turn out to be filled with lies about everything: the past, the present, as well as the invariably hollow promises for the future. The niceness that initially seemed to be a part of the seducer’s character is exposed as strategic and manipulative, conditional upon acts of submission to his will. Tenderness diminishes and is eventually displaced by perversion that hints at an underlying, and menacing, sadism. Mutuality, equality and respect—everything she thought the relationship was founded upon—become gradually replaced with hierarchies and double standards in his favor. As the relationship with the psychopath unfolds, Dr. Jekyll morphs into Mr. Hyde.

    The Seducer relies upon the insights of modern psychology and sensational media stories to demystify the theme of seduction we find in classic literary fiction. In its plot and structure, my novel deliberately echoes elements of the nineteenth-century classic, Anna Karenina. In its style and content, it fits in with contemporary mainstream psychological fiction such as Anna Quindlen’s Black and Blue and Wally Lamb’s I know this much is true. As much a cautionary tale as a story about the value of real caring, forgiveness and redemption, The Seducer shows that true love can be found in our ordinary lives and relationships rather than in flimsy fantasies masquerading as great passions.

    To preview sample chapters from The Seducer, check out Neatorama’s Bitlit, on the link

    http://www.neatorama.com/bitlit/2010/12/20/the-seducer-part-i-chapter-1/

    and a video preview on

    http://www.youtube.com/user/ClaudiaMoscovici

    Claudia Moscovici, Notablewriters.com

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • koren56

    koren56 says

    Frieda, I've been trying to think of some discussions that we havent done before. I really hesitate to start anything too controversial because when I do I feel like I'm getting attacked. I think that is why a lot of people left.

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • paikea

    paikea says

    p.s. also, we would never just off and delete things - we all usually give a lot of warnings, first - and it takes a certain amount or a certain kind of trolling to do anything more than the written warning - not to mention you haven't offended anyone:)

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • paikea

    paikea says

    hey Frieda:) - sorry about not getting back to you sooner - i haven't been around much - but no, you did not do anything wrong - i haven't censored you or anything - and i'm not aware that Justin or Steve did either - are your posts still not able to go up?

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • kauthar M

    kauthar M says

    thank you

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Anthony

    Anthony says

    Hey Frieda,

    Your welcome. Thank you for accepting my freind request!

    -Luke-

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Erika B.

    Erika B. says

    Hello Frieda and thanks for the welcome! Please let me know of any good books that you are currently reading! I have a couple that I plan to read, but I would like to know what others are reading right now! Thanks!

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Evelyn S

    Evelyn S says

    Well I am in West London but will be away at that time. Isle of Wight is a nice place, lots of things to see if you have the time.
    Evelyn S

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Evelyn S

    Evelyn S says

    Bless you for that
    Evelyn S

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Evelyn S

    Evelyn S says

    Thankyou , glad you liked it. Yoou did, didn't you?
    Evelyn S

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Jassafari

    Jassafari says

    Hello'

    How are ya?

    Jas

    What are you, reading Now?

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • mamta

    mamta says

    thnks frieda........

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • ToastmasterLiz

    ToastmasterLiz says

    Thanks Frieda!

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Evelyn S

    Evelyn S says

    One of my short stories

    TRIAL OF TERROR

    April Pandorsky rang her sister late October. She phoned the apartment several times over the course of the next two weeks., finally notifying the police that her sister should have been at home on at least one of those occasions and her Company manager rang her to see why her sister had not been to work in all that time.
    It was sheer accident several weeks later that a fire had swept the dock down at the disused harbour, only partway catching the old building, leaving much of it intact. When the firemen broke in and found the partially eaten corpse of a young woman, the police scanned their missing persons list. They found her name on their list, had the dental records checked and contacted April Pandorsky who, in a flood of tears, identified the mutilated body.

    Julia Rein drew ragged breaths as she sat on the filthy bed and tried to make some sense out of the situation. She had gone to bed as usual in her small ‘loft’ overlooking the Hudson with its twinkling lights advertising the fact that New York never slept. Unable to recall anything other than profound sleep until this rude awakening, she was at a loss to know what had happened to her.
    She never saw the shadow in her bedroom that moved only after she was fast asleep. Never felt the prick of the needle that injected the dose to keep her asleep.
    She had no real enemies, as far as she could remember. Her job as a tax assessor might bring a few mingers down on her head from time to time, but that was all part of the job. No one that might do her real harm. Try as Julia would, she could not recall any special person that she had seen lately who had threatened her with bodily harm over a misjudged deposit to Uncle Sam. It never occurred to her that she had been taken by a man who had never met her but had watched her habits and taken her because her could. Taken her for his own vile purpose.
    When she had first awoken terrified as if in a dream, this unreal situation, she had felt around the blackened room, barking her shins several times on junk of one kind or another, to find the only door. When she found it locked and bolted, she had screamed for help for some minutes. Her throat closed up and the screaming stopped. All she could hear were various fog horns echoing from the obviously nearby river.
    Having deemed, in this nightmarish position that she might be in some wharf building, she finally realised that however much she screamed no one would come, not in the darkness anyway.
    The thoughts that there might be bums, drop-outs or drug users using other buildings to keep out the night air, did cross her mind but she dismissed those thoughts as ludicrous, for what dope-enhanced soul would even bother with someone else’s predicament through a haze of cocaine or an empty meths bottle. With horns blaring, her small voice would be lost in the mist anyway. Fog always blanks out sound, distorts all but the sharpest noise.
    She had grown up on the coast where fog was a regular occurrence. Sounds thought to come from one direction, always turned out to emanate from somewhere totally different. You had to be aware when fog came down. She thought about April,. She would contact the police and they would find her. She had to hold on to that hope.
    After several hours she came to terms with where she was, however terrible it may be. It was the why and the who she could not determine.
    The all-pervading smells were of salt water, rust, old oil (like when a car is left in a garage with a dripping tank and leaves a fetid pool on the floor that gradually gets filled with dust and grime and rotting bodies of insects) and an animal scent she could not determine but realising the building’s proximity to water, she terrifyingly thought it might be from rats. She was determined to ignore the rustling sounds from within the room though her heart leapt at each and every sound. It had to be daylight soon, surely?
    Little whimpering noises left her mouth now at every new scuttling. Terror rose in her mind. Rational thought as well as her sanity was slowly ebbing away. Daylight had come and gone, she tried to count how many days and nights, Why? WHY? The word shouted within her brain. Julia, not normally what the kids referred to as a ‘wimp’, started to bite her nails that first night (something she had not done since she was in High School). Her perfect manicure had already been ruined when she banged and scraped the wood as she tried to break down the door. The once polished nails were now jagged, they caught on her silk nightgown, the attire she had gone to bed in.
    Cold seeped in through unseen cracks and Julia shivered as the thin nightgown did nothing to warm her body. She also shivered for the terror that filled her mind. Someone should find her. Someone must!
    But then the days came and went. Hunger and thirst drove into her mind like a ragged knife. Shouting brought silence. No noise save that of distant boat sounds, broke the quiet that was the darkened, dirty room.
    She surrendered and sat with her knees under her chin, rocking her body like a frightened kid. She finally ignored the rustling noises, the fog horns, the breaking of wood and metal that all added to the cacophony of dangerous sound imploding within her brain. Tears dripped down her face to fall unseen on the dusty floor. Tiny puddles of salty tears that drained away the humanity to leave an ancient primordial fear, a terror of the unknown

    When firemen broke in to assess the damage some weeks later, they called the police who identified her by her dental records and part of the silk nightgown which her sister had given her as a birthday gift a week before her abduction. No one was actually charged, though the police had a few ideas. It was weeks later they scrutinised the list of John Does, matching one man in a fatal traffic accident to their view of who the abductor was. That unforeseen accident happened the day after the abduction occurred, based on the fact that the woman was at work the previous day, seen by many of her colleagues.
    A strange quirk of fate or Divine Retribution? Many hardened officers on the case felt their hearts quicken at this revelation.

    © Copyright 2005

    Eveelyn S

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
  • Evelyn S

    Evelyn S says

    Hi there, I lost all I just wrote so start again. Iam reading a book called The Red Queen aboout the Lancastrian side of the Wars of the Roses as told by the mother of Henry 7th.
    Myself I write short stories, poetry and lonmg novels set in a far off world and run mostly by Arabic peoples though not all, it is of water and sand.
    I have, or did have several raspberries bushes, one plum that does not produce now, and an ever producin g cherry tree. Most eaten by bird as they are too high for me to pick.
    I am EWnglish but my heritage could be Scottish and Jewish, I do not know for sure, on ly hints and possibly some Romany connections. What mixes we all are now.!
    It is a very dark day here again today and damp too.
    Evelyn S

    posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )
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