Books and TV

Photo by Debbie Safran

I recently had the surreal experience of being featured on an episode of Paranormal Witness. The episode was based on my book In Stone, which was an account of a real-life event. I expected a lot of things. An acquaintance of mine said he doesn't do TV anymore, because they can edit it any way they like, and there is nothing you can do about it. I was a little bit terrified of what we had loosed into the world, but I had resigned myself to it in any case. When I finally watched the episode (Season 4, episode 11,When Hell Freezes Over) I was somewhat relieved. The only thing that was really contrived was the way it ended: With us fleeing to our Mom's house. I get why they did it. The episode needed to have a clear ending and our real story didn't end until three months after the ice storm. In reality, our Mom's place wasn't an option. We had three dogs (also left out of the episode) and our Mom lived in a condo where dogs weren't permitted. Seriously, if we could escape to Mom's, we would have done it a hell of a lot sooner.

I think it's interesting to see the TV version of our story. They actually left SO much out in the interest of time. I think they did a great job with the over-all feel of the experience, a great job portraying the cold, and the actors were pretty great too (wow...that little girl playing my daughter!), but some things are notably different. For one, it was a bit crazy-making to see everyone sitting around in the dark. NEVER would we have done that! We left lights on all the time, even overnight. We were terrified! Also, the house on the show looked pretty run down. Our house was really nice! Having said that, I fully understand how the dark, run down house would contribute to the aura of the story. It's funny though, how many people take TV so literally. I've noticed in some of the comments, people saying really nasty things about us for things that were actually artistic choices made by the show (like the low lighting) and had nothing to do with what really happened. It's a strange world! Of note, we also didn't share a car, and my daughter went to a Waldorf school, not a Catholic school. All irrelevant details, but examples of the difference between TV and real life.

All in all I think they did a pretty decent job. The toughest part for me was the absence of the dogs because they were such a big part of our lives and so much a part of how we coped with that experience. It felt a little empty without them there. I was concerned that the show might try and make things up, but they didn't, not at all. They did have to focus on only one aspect of what was happening though, and that meant a lot that we went through was excluded. Of course, that was necessary and expected. One of the things that TV doesn't tell you about real haunting is that it doesn't always make sense, there isn't always a tidy ending and people almost never behave rationally. It's an entirely irrational situation.

The episode was definitely an interesting step on the journey. When I wrote the book, I felt so responsible for telling the truth. I felt responsible to the people who lived the experience, the folks who so kindly helped to do research, the current resident of the home, so much responsibility to everyone involved. It was difficult to trust someone else with the story. I'm glad I did. I read comments about the book, about the episode, and so many of them are kind and supportive. I love that people have sent me messages on my author page and told me their stories. Sometimes I'm the first person they've told, and it's really emotional for them. I get it! I'm really grateful that I had the opportunity to do the show, and that the book has been so well-received. It's been such a healing process. I hope that by sharing my experience, I will continue to encourage others to do the same. It was a really difficult thing to hold on to. Oh, and for your viewing 'pleasure', here is a photo of the real me in the real house in '97 :-)

                                         

Paranormal

Photo: www.queeky.com

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
-Shakespeare (from Hamlet)

“The day science begins to study non-physical phenomena, it will make more progress in one decade than in all the previous centuries of its existence.”
― Nikola Tesla



I've had a lot of opportunities lately, to think about the paranormal. I'm going to assume that if you're reading this post that you've thought about it a bit yourself (and if you don't believe in the paranormal 1. You might want to stop reading and 2. I don't care, so you might as well go try to invalidate somebody else's trauma).

YIKES but that was snippy! While the mature, polite woman trapped inside me wants to be all apologetic for that last remark, most of me has more or less had it with being called names, and having people who weren't there tell me how lucky we were to live in a haunted house, and how THEY would have done it so much better than we did (and maybe they would have. So what). I really have no problem at all with folks who are genuinely skeptical though. I used to be too, so I totally get it. To be fair, I think most people fall into the 'skeptical' category. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little envious of those who could hold an objective fascination and excitement around all things spooky, without remembering the fear that we felt. I think some people are so much better at it than others though. It's like, some folks can study big cats of the Serengeti and learn tons about them, get great photos and have exciting stories to tell, and others would go and get eaten by a lion. The unprepared and uninitiated (like we were) would likely fall into the second camp (especially since we never planned on going to the Serengeti, never wanted to go to the Serengeti, and weren't even fully aware that the Serengeti is where we had ended up).

While my interest in the subject has gone on long enough for me to understand the fascination and excitement experienced by others and the desire researchers have to learn more (I share that desire!), the experience was incredibly traumatic for us. I watch shows about it on television (in fact, our story will be on TV at the end of the year) and it either seems as though the goings-on are very dramatic and in your face, or tiny things (that are really open to interpretation) are attributed to paranormal forces. It always seems as though the people involved know just what to do, how to handle it, who to call. The reality was so different for us. I think it was a time/location thing (NOBODY talked much about that stuff  back then). Even today, most paranormal discussions have an element of the tongue in cheek, and while interesting, one rarely hears about what the impact might be on the human psyche.

My sister (a psychologist) who was there in the house with me, compares what happened to us with being in a psychologically abusive relationship. I don't care that we were were rarely touched (well, rarely, not never. Dawn and my daughter were scratched and bruised). To say we were unable to think clearly was the understatement of the century. We were always afraid; afraid to talk, afraid to make things worse. I don't care how many people say "Oh, it's harmless", we knew, KNEW it wasn't. We knew it on a cellular, visceral level. It's as harmless as any form of psychological abuse could be. And hey, I'm not minimizing abuse by saying so. I have been physically assaulted too, and what happened to us in the house was worse. Not only were we tormented, but we had no way to manage and understand what was happening to us. I can't begin to tell you what it's like to not even have full use of your own thoughts, and to live at that level of fear for six months. And we aren't alone.

One of the most touching things about coming forward with our story was the number of people who contacted me via my fan page to tell me their stories. It touched me because, in many cases, these were people who had had really traumatic things happen to them and I was the first person (a total stranger, no less) they felt comfortable talking to about it. I'm so, SO glad that they reached out, and I understand how hard it is to keep a secret like that. If I could have hugged each one of them personally, I would have. Having to keep the secret makes everything so much worse. But not keeping it can lead to ridicule, which I'm all too aware of. And that can feel like being traumatized all over again. Over this past year or so, I've more or less learned to take the 'Taylor Swift/Shake it Off' route, but it was something I had to learn and I needed a lot of help to do so. I still have tough days. The saddest thing though, is knowing there are still people out there who are suffering in silence. I'm planning to do something about that, hopefully by the end of the year. Not sure what yet, but I'll keep you posted.

Having said all that (and in spite of my previous, snippy comment), I have been really grateful for ALL the folks who have shown their support. The people who get excited about haunting and want to buy and live in haunted houses inspire ME to keep digging! I still want it all to make sense. My logical mind fully expects that we will understand paranormal phenomena someday, and it's the brave folks who get excited about it all that may be the first ones to sort it out. It's an unusual journey, for sure, but one I'm not done taking just yet.

The Why of it

Photo: www.fanpop.com

I get a little crazy when I'm writing.  Okay, I'm not sure that crazy is the right word, but oddly enough I can't come up with a better one. Some writer I am :-) I suppose "lost", "focused", "down the rabbit hole" would all be apt descriptions. I need not be working on some epic masterpiece (and to date have never attempted such a lofty pursuit), but it doesn't matter. I certainly go somewhere.

I'm writing another book, which looks to be the first in a three-book series. It's funny how these things seem to happen: I start out with a very clear picture of where I want it to go, and then it sort of takes on a life of its own. I wonder where it all comes from, this "other" life. I'm sure much of it lurks in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind just waiting for the opportunity to be brought to light. A scary thought on many levels. Even scarier, I write horror. One can't write what one can't imagine. But even on those rare days free of distractions and shiny things, the days when things flow most easily, writing is consistent work. I've been asked more than once why I do it, especially considering the financial uncertainty and the time commitment. For that, I have no good answer, other than because I have to.

Okay, maybe that doesn't apply so much to books (I don't think), but that's not all I write. I write a lot, and have for years. I've had a journal since I was young, and then I wrote poetry. Most of it was dark and troubled like my thoughts at the time; life hasn't always been kind, but some of it was still beautiful. I wrote in school: creative writing, English, humanities. And then I discovered (eventually, after many years) the world of online media. I wrote on Myspace, about everything, all the time. And it was such a relief. Some days (and maybe you feel this too) my head is just so filled with thoughts and my soul so filled with...I don't know, that if I didn't have an outlet I might burst. Does that give me a right to make my outlet public? Or to have the audacity to believe that I can make a living at it?  That remains to be seen. But my inner magic 8-ball says "Signs point to yes" on most days. The good days, when everything feels possible, like I'm being pulled like a magnet forward to some as-yet-to-be-determined place where I belong.

But what the hell does that mean? I guess that part of the picture isn't so clear. I've been told that my name means clarity, so maybe that's forthcoming. In the interim, I'll just fumble around in the dark like I always have, bumping occasionally into something that might be good fodder for a horror novel. Write what you know. That's the rule, isn't it? A strange thought from someone with a generally positive and overly optimistic outlook, don't you think? Blame it on the moon; it's glow creates shadows. We all have our darkness.

Maybe 'crazy' is the right word after all?

The REAL Zombie Apocalypse

The calm before the storm...

I spend a lot of time people-watching. I don't mean in a creepy, voyeuristic sort of way, but just observy.  I am my daughter's ride to and from work so I spend an inordinate amount of time just sitting in my car and waiting. I pass the time by listening to the radio and watching folks to-ing and fro-ing about their lives. This time of year, I am struck by the large number of people who accessorize their cute, woolen hats and puffy coats with incredibly sour faces. I get it, I really do. The frost sets into my bones right about this time of year and doesn't fully thaw until sometime around mid-May or so despite my best efforts to keep warm. I've lived in Vermont my whole life (except for three years I spent in Maine) so you'd think I'd be acclimated by now. Oh, I suppose I am. But 'acclimated' and 'happily adapted' are two very different vibes. Mostly, I suck it up and deal, just like the folks I watch on an almost daily basis.

Early mornings are the most entertaining time. Many people have yet to imbibe their morning caffeine and the combination of lack of coffee AND puffy clothes is pretty amusing. The usual winter shuffle is accentuated significantly when folks are still half asleep. These slow, lurching and only half-aware folks that I see on a regular basis have given rise to a theory: The zombie apocalypse will not be brought about by reanimated corpses, but by bundled-up, pre-coffee Northerners on their way to Starbucks.

Imagine if you will, the frozen North if not a cup of Joe (not even at Starbucks!) were to be found. It would be disastrous, the casualties immense. It would start at local Starbucks locations, but it would spread from there as even the (usually very caffeinated) baristas join in the desperate, lurching mob. The words "coffee", "tea" and "latte" would be grunted repeatedly with ever-decreasing enunciation as the now mindless hoard overtakes the city. Those few who had stockpiled their coffee and were therefore coherent run screaming in confusion as the slow but relentless mob continues on their tenacious course to find the one thing that sustains them...a cup of coffee. I can picture the scene: Glass breaks as Abercrombie and Hollister employees (who subsist almost entirely on Starbucks) break free from their respective pods and join the lurching mob.

Where will it end? It could end several ways I suppose. The best case scenario is that someone, somewhere is able to provide these "zombies" with their much-needed caffeine before too much damage is done. But the most likely conclusion is all manner of mayhem and shenanigans occur causing much damage and destruction, and then everyone falls asleep because they didn't have their coffee.

My daughter really needs her own car.

Paradox

Photo: en.wikipedia.org

The difference between reality and fiction? Fiction has to make sense. -Tom Clancy

What Mr. Clancy said is great thing to keep in mind, especially when you're writing fiction. But human beings really seem to be the most comfortable when their reality makes sense too.

Sometimes I drive myself crazy trying to solve puzzles that apparently have no solution. I don't mean the physical kind like the little wooden balls and cubes that come apart or the Rubik's cube (which also comes apart with a little determination;-). I had a handle on those a long time ago. And really, if you solve them or don't, what difference does it ultimately make? The puzzles that intrigue me the most are the ones I can't seem to sort out no matter how hard I try.

One of those apparently unsolvable puzzles is the basic premise of the things I write about: The paranormal. As I'm beginning to do the research for my next book, it's easy to understand where legends begin and how they persist. There is really no mystery there. What I DO find mildly baffling though, is the consistency of information from widespread and seemingly unrelated sources. I might even be able to explain that much without straining myself; stories pass from one generation to the next, but people don't stay on one place. That's the simple answer, and most likely the right one. But the stories are just so darned consistent.

Let's make something clear; I don't believe in the paranormal because I want to. I have a very uneasy relationship with the paranormal world. I was just an average, relatively normal person, minding my own business and living my life the best I knew how when this happened. It's easy to read books like mine, to hear stories and to dismiss them outright as total BS. I know because I've done it. I've nodded politely, made the right noises (something along the lines of "Oh, how interesting...") but secretly thought to myself that it was a monumental crock of sh**. But I wrote this book, I was there and I know it's not a crock.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. said "One's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions."  

Okay, that's all well and good, but what do you do if your mind is blown? What if you have seen with your own eyes, things you can't possibly explain? And things that have never been adequately explained by anyone? Well, I know what I'm doing: I'm throwing myself into it in the hopes of finding some answers while carving out what I hope is an entertaining niche for others. It's fun, and let's face it; it helps me to embrace the illusion that I have some kind of hold on this stuff and therefore some manner of control over it. Now that is a crock. But it helps me to sleep at night.

But here's a hell of a question to throw out there: HOW can this stuff be explained? Oh, I've seen all the 'investigative' shows and heard about all the spiritual aspects, but what is the real, tangible explanation? Is it possible, given all we know about the world in general, to find real answers? As much fun as it is to tell stories and speculate, and as much as I hope my scary book is a success, my sleep would be much improved if I knew that real answers were on the horizon.

The Darker Side!

Photo: Taylor Baranova

I set up this blog with the intention of having an outlet for my 'lighter' thoughts and ideas. For the most part, the meandering and varied topics have provided just that. While it's true that other appropriate names for this blog might have been "Verbal Incontinence" or "Proof That I Need Editing", I have been very pleased by the number of folks who have read my posts. Whether you read my blog because you find it interesting, or because you find it relateable, or even because it's like a train wreck you can't look away from, I appreciate you. THANK YOU for the continued support:-)

If there is a lighter side, then a darker (edited!) side must exist, right? And so it does: In Stone , my first book, is now available! Here is a taste:

"The house looked innocent enough. There was nothing to distinguish it from any other quaint, older home nestled within the rural Vermont landscape. For Liz, Charlie, Donna and Willa it was a dream come true; exactly what they needed. Each of them had escaped hardship longing for the comforts of loved ones, hearth and home. The spacious house, the location and the timing all seemed so perfect. But none of them could imagine the horrors that awaited them as the house revealed its secrets. "

Yes, it's finally an honest-to-gosh 'thing'. To all those who regularly witnessed me skulking about in my dinosaur pajamas while talking to myself and gripping a cup of coffee like it was my last friend on earth, there really was a point to it all :-) And now, it's time to knuckle down again and write another one.

I can't tell you much about the next one, just that it was inspired by a nightmare...

Publication

Photo: scotlandpubliclibrary.org

So, it looks like I'm getting published. Like for real. It's strange how 'weightless' I feel about the whole situation. In my fantasy world, my scary little book would come out right before Halloween, and it looks like that is exactly what is going to happen. It's strange to think that I actually finished the "marathon".

It didn't go smoothly for me. There are some writers who can sit down, focus and be brilliant in six months. I am not one of them. Perhaps part of it is lack of experience. Who knows. I am not one of those naive individuals that believe in the 'waiting for inspiration' fallacy, either. Writing is work. It is awesome and largely fulfilling work, but work nonetheless. At least for me. I suppose it's different for everyone. I will admit though, that on a good day I struggle for every bit of focus I am ultimately allowed. So what. It takes as long as it takes. And it probably took a lot longer than it should have. I wrote the last line on 11/11/11. Everything else since has been clean up, editing, etc. I finally had to admit that it was never going to be perfect, so waiting until it was was futile.

I don't think my book is beautifully written. I don't think it's supposed to be. It's a narrative about the most terrifying six months of my life. There were beautiful moments, but they were fleeting and buried within the greater horror of the rest of the story. It is what it is. As the writer, I'm completely incapable of being objective. I can only hope that you are entertained and engaged by my story, and that you come away from it feeling some of the abject terror experienced by the characters. Such a noble goal, hehe...

I have had the book and all work related to it in my life for so long that it seemed strange to just hand it over. Now comes the second most terrifying part: Putting it out there for the world to see. Sure, I do that in increments with this blog and have done it on a small scale with little things that I've written. I was really encouraged by how many people read the short story I wrote for you folks last Halloween (and a little frightened by how many more hits the end got than the other parts...so dark and twisty!). Anyway, thank you for that. It helped to give me the courage I needed to say "Here, go put that out into the world for anyone to access". I feel like I just bought a sort of lottery ticket, but one where I risk considerably more than a couple of bucks. But that's what it's about. Sometimes the only way forward is to look fear in the face, tell it off, and move forward anyway. So this is me being brave.  Stay tuned to this spot for the shameless self-promotion to come, and thank you for, well...being you :-)

Horror, or something like it

Nosferatu

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love this time of year. I am currently taking a break from a horror-movie marathon, and can't help but feel somewhat gleeful (and okay, giddy) that they are so prevalent right now. My favorite movies involve the supernatural and actually have a plot and a budget. While I do believe there is a place for B horror films, I don't really dig them. I'm a thinky person with a need for mental stimulation, and I don't feel the least bit challenged by movies that were created with the 'Soft-core porn+demented serial-killer+increasingly-bloody deaths = gross' formula, whether it be at a cabin in the middle of nowhere, a beach, a mansion of some kind, etc. B-O-R-I-N-G. And let's face it, unbelievably unimaginative. I would like to comment here that we have sadly low standards in terms of what we consider entertainment, but I think in this era of "Jersey Shore" and "Honey Boo Boo", that would be entirely redundant. No, I don't personally watch any of that nonsense, either. But I digress.

My point is that I have a fortuitously-timed, scheduled lazy day. The sky is heavy and grey, I can hear the hissing of leaves being tossed around, the smell of falling leave and rotting vegetation is delicious, pumpkin everything is for sale and my daughter just went crazy baking 'nanner' breads. All is right in the world today, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

One would think, because of past experience, that ghosts and dark shadows in every storefront would scare the crap out of me. Not so much. When you've lived through the real thing, paper cutouts and whimsical imagery is even more fun. Okay, I'll admit to taking exception to the fake spiders. They've ALWAYS scared the crap out of me, and my fear of them always has been and remains borderline-clinical. But if you really want to scare me, make the phone ring. If you want to terrify me beyond reason, trap me in a dark room with a stone wall. The things that really scare me, though my fear may be utterly justified, would seem silly to anyone else. The things that scare most other people fill me with mild amusement. It's a quirk.

In honor of this beloved month of October, I have started to write a short story for this blog. I say 'short', but my inability to be truly succinct means that it's probably going to run over three or four days. I'm having a blast writing it, and I hope you enjoy it. And I hope you are enjoying this spooky month (of course the beautiful leaves and the cool nights too;-) as much as I am.

Until next time:-)

History

"Spooky Tree" photo by Lana Pinto

 I did it, or started it at least. I finally looked into the history of The Infamous Brown House. And it was FUN. I have seen it done on TV, but the reality was far more confusing and less conclusive than anything fictional. For starters, the inevitable Startling Revelation Involving Microfiche was not part of my actual experience. It began with perusing listings to find the picture and subsequently the address of the house. I recognized it right away, a feeling in my gut more than anything. From there it was a search though enormous book after enormous book; each getting older and harder to read than the one before it. I learned that the neighbor's outrageous account of the house's history was not only feasible, but likely. I followed up my trip to the town clerk with a visit to the public library. I searched the few historical tomes available; black and white and sepia windows on a past I could scarcely imagine. Though there were many interesting anecdotes about the area, none were specific enough to be useful. I learned that yes, the original structure was indeed built in the late 1800's, that fires were common and bears were a danger. Nothing supported the specifics of the haunting (though the prevalence of fire was certainly interesting, considering), but nothing negated it either. The ladies at the library were incredibly helpful and interested in the book. They suggested that I contact the historical society, which I've done. Now, I wait. At least this time I wait with interest and eagerness and without fear.

I enjoyed my research. Though my initial pass revealed nothing conclusive, I was taken in by the spirit of these early Vermonters and it made me want to know more. More story ideas perhaps? I do love my monsters but ghost stories, especially those based in historical fact, could be a hell of a good yarn too. In fact, a good ghost story would be my favorite thing to curl up with (in addition to an afghan and a warm beverage) on a wet or cold day. Hmm...It really is up to me, isn't it? But first, I need to get this project done and out there.

 I don't think it's a secret that I like to escape into fictional realms of my own creation (which my current project isn't), but it bears mentioning again just the same. When the world is a rapidly rotating vortex of sad circumstances, financial stress, political ugliness and an unnatural state of being (read: my current horse-less-ness), I like to make myself a cup of strong Irish tea and visit a place where all is possible: my own imagination. Just because my current project remains stuck in the pipeline does not mean I can't do something else too. Sometimes, when all else just seems to be beyond my ability to manage it, just the act of doing something, anything really, can break the spell of stagnation. And it has given me an idea.

Halloween is coming. I love Halloween, I love the spooky atmosphere, the darkening sky, the wind and the blowing leaves. I love that I think I saw somebody staring down at me from the window of the empty apartment next door, and that sometimes I hear things. What if...

Until next time:-)

Curiosity

Today's the day I suck it up and do some research. I'm not opposed to research on principle, in fact many of my major life choices have been the result of countless hours of it. But this is different. This time, I have to take a closer look at something I actively ran (almost literally) from: The Infamous Brown House. The Infamous Brown House of my former reality, and of past and current nightmares. I wrote the story of all that happened to us there; a terrifying tale of relentless and unexplained occurrences. I relived those sleepless nights and the waking horrors of those days already. I needed to. I needed to do it for myself, and for those who shared the experience. Today, stories of haunted houses abound. But then, fifteen years ago, nobody talked about it. Embarrassment kept us quiet and the story stayed dark and coiled and waiting within me. I left that house a haunted human being; what more did I need to know? I don't know the history of the place. I didn't feel like I needed to. No matter what happened, it wouldn't validate or negate our personal experiences. It was what it was. But this is a world of "why?" and it has become apparent to me that no ghost story worth it's salt comes without a history. I've been strongly encouraged by folks I have deep respect for to take this step. I finally had to admit to myself that, yes, I need to do this. So today's the day.

Maybe I will find nothing. Though it has rarely occurred to me that this might be the case, the fact of the matter is that it might very well be. Maybe I will find some magic something that will make sense of it all and provide new understanding into the whole affair. More likely it will be somewhere in the middle. I can only speculate. I am sure though, that I have made it a bigger deal than need be. I have put this off, and in doing so put off the completion of a long project I desperately want to see finished. You see, I'm still afraid. All the writing, the joking, the hopes for success, none of it diminishes the very real fear we experienced, the very real trauma we have lived with since. This isn't just a book I wrote. It's our story. I love writing about the occult, but don't really have the stomach for experiencing the reality of it. Some of you may know what I mean.

But it's time. It's time to dig out the truth, or as much of it as I can find. It's time to finish this, one way or another. "My" time of year is approaching, and it feels like it's the book's time too. It's ready to be born in earnest. It's time to release it all; the book, the fear and the hesitation. It's time to embrace my well-developed sense of dark and morbid curiosity and make it work for me. I can do this...

The Dark Side of the Lighter Side

It's raining outside. I like a day like this once in awhile. Rainy days give me the excuse I need to hunker indoors and get indoor things done. I'm probably one of the few people who looks outside in the morning, and upon seeing rain says "Oh cool!" Rain means a lazy day for me. I realize that whether or not I have a lazy day is entirely up to me, so perhaps I should be more clear: rain means a justified lazy day.

If it's nice and sunny outdoors, I feel compelled to be out in it. I was raised to be an "outdoor kitty", to spend as much time as possible taking full advantage of every bit of sun. We would swim, ride our horses, work in the garden, dig for worms, read in the grass or just sun ourselves until the sun started to go down. Almost every summertime memory that I have is of being outdoors. To this day, I have a really difficult time relaxing indoors when it's sunny. I don't have many of my former outdoor activities to keep me busy any more, but I spend time with my dog and walk until my feet are killing me (plantar fasciitis sucks). To stay indoors comfortably, I need an excuse. Rain is that excuse. It's raining outside.

I have been listening to the rain, enjoying a cup of coffee and perusing other blogs. I love to read blogs. I love to read the thoughts of other people, to understand different perspectives and to learn something new. Reading a blog is almost like reading someone's personal journal sometimes. Unlike an article written in journalist fashion, blogs tend to have a much more 'human' feel that I appreciate. It's like someone is taking the time to share a piece of themselves.

People set their blogs up to reflect what they are about, and each blog has it's own unique 'feel'; from a reader's perspective its the online version of visiting peoples' homes. I totally dig the individuality, the colors, the images and the graphics that people choose to represent them. More insight into that person's uniqueness.

I have noticed, in spite of its title, that my blog is perhaps one of the darkest blogs out there. Maybe the darkness on my blog is the lighter side of me, hehe. Or maybe I like to occasionally provide light via the content. Occasionally. Maybe those brief snippets are the exception that proves the rule; the things that keep us hanging on just a little longer, just in case...

I don't think I intended to make it dark. It was a subconscious thing. When I chose my background, I thought "yes, here's a haunted room...this is what I know..." It made me feel simultaneously comforted and just a little edgy; therefore normal. Maybe I thought you might feel and appreciate it too, that it would invite you to come in, to sit down and stay awhile. My font is a little crazy. Self explanatory.  But it makes me think: should I brighten things up, and make my blog a lighter, Lighter Side of Darkness? Or do I keep it as is, letting the light, when it occurs, be that much brighter for the contrast? Hmmm.....Things to think about on a rainy day...

The meaning of life...sort of

I don't react well to bad news. Okay, that's an understatement. I am the Queen of Totally Freaking Out. It should be bestowed upon me as an official tile. Yes, I really am that good. It sucks, to be honest. The ease with which I panic makes me want to panic. And it really is as dysfunctional as it sounds. Okay, so then what happens? Well, after going completely around the bend, I get logical. That's the part I like.

I got notice today that my rent is going up. I kind of expected that it would, and was already anticipating having to pull another 50 bucks or so out of thin air. I've had numerous and seemingly arbitrary expense hikes over the years; some of them have been life altering, but mostly they just serve to keep the ground ever shifting beneath my feet. Wouldn't want to feel too safe and secure now, would we? Well, maybe not, but I'll come back to that. I think having people shooting each other in my parking lot (one resulting in murder) is enough to tweak anybody's equilibrium all by itself, but it wouldn't be full-on freak-worthy without a rent hike. And this year's rent hike is of the life-altering variety: a whopping $140/month increase (which completely fails to be offset by my $25/month raise). Yes, I know. I'm getting totally hosed. I assure you, I freaked out fully and completely in a manner that would make any bat-sh** crazy, straight-jacketed nut-job (and it's perfectly okay to say that if I am one) person proud. I gave Crazy-town a thorough visit, saw all the sights and the museum, and I even had some coffee at the Crazy-town Cafe. So now what? As tempting as it is to settle in at Crazy town, it totally falls into the "great place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there" category.

Okay, logic time. Cool, Aquarian logic. It's time to go back to survival mode...I've done it before. I don't want to do it again, but as I think I may have mentioned a time or two, my life in it's current incarnation has very little to do with what I want. So why not take it to the extreme? I guess I'm railing against the idea a bit because I thought (okay hoped, but close enough) that by now, I would be in a place where things were getting better, but instead I'm having to let even more go. The stressful part is that there really isn't much left. I thought about giving up food, but apparently that's contraindicated for anyone who wishes to remain alive, and I definitely do. I can't give up the internet because I need it. I can't help but believe that the only way out of this situation is to keep my nose to the grindstone with my writing, and to be persistent. I don't know why I believe that, but it's something that lives on a gut level so I'm going with it. It's the only certainty I have. I also need to learn how to not let the second book become a distraction from finishing up the work on the first. And if that's not bad enough, the ideas for number 3 are already starting to float around like dark little shadows in shallow water; not distinct in shape but definitely present.  Maybe I can escape into my own stories once the stories aren't about me. At least that seems appealing. The first book is my story, I escaped the house in real life so there's no desire to escape into it in fantasy. The second book is purely fiction. The second is whatever I want it to be, and I can't begin to tell you how much that notion appeals to me.

 In the world of my stories, it's all about what I want, unlike my life right now. In the world of my stories, I really have a say, I control what happens. And it's AWESOME. I don't think that's a horrid place to be, and it's one of those things that can't be taken away randomly for some arbitrary reason. It's mine, free and clear. And it will assist me in making my real life mine too, I have no doubt. I can take heart in knowing that no matter what happens, "someday" gets a little closer with every passing moment.

Maybe that's not terribly logical, but this is: I have a roof, I have a bed. I have enough to survive. And yes, Mom, I can move my arms and legs. I have hope, and I have dreams too, and I'm lucky enough to posses tools that just may bring those dreams to fruition. Hey, it's much better odds than playing the lottery;-)

Here There be Monsters...

   I've always been fascinated by 'monsters'. I don't care for the human kind; I don't want to spend too much time contemplating the psychological and moral failings that create such a beast. But I love legends and tales about such creatures as Bigfoot, the Wendigo, the Manitou, Champ...you get the idea. I also find myself being quite interested in stories of the supernatural. I do enjoy watching 'crime' shows on TV, but I usually find myself busily doing something else while the actual crime is occurring, and only become engaged when the solving of the crime begins. I love how the pieces fit together to solve the mystery. I love trying to put it together for myself, even though it is within the artificial world created by television. Maybe I love monsters because of the mystery they represent.

    I guess I like them too, because I can believe in them...or not. I have to admit, though, it's much more fun to believe that they exist. There is something exciting about the idea that there are things around us that we are unaware of or could never understand. Actually, I think it is MORE likely that we are unaware of much of what exists, and that our perception of reality is exceptionally limited. I think it is sheer hubris that allows us to believe we have an accurate bead on things.

   I like the mystery in the world. I like knowing that there is much yet to discover, that there are many more interesting and surprising developments yet to come. It's just cool. So as much as I like to keep a positive outlook in my 'real world', to fill it with bright sun and warmth, I love to explore the darkness and write about mysterious and spooky things. I like to create worlds in which these things actually DO exist, where they do go bump in the night, and where we get a glimpse into the mindset and reality of such creatures. In a world where the monsters actually ARE monsters, people can be human. The best side of human nature can be highlighted as all pretense is stripped away in favor of survival against a terrifying beast.

   I'm not saying that there won't be a character or two that bears a striking resemblance to someone who is a real-life thorn in my side. And I'm not saying that those characters will not meet an untimely end. I'm just saying that it's more likely to result from an encounter with the long and sharply-curved claw of an unknown creature than a psycho with a knife;-)

   In any case, I prefer to see monsters on the OUTSIDE of people...unless...