Monday, December 19, 2011

Six More Days 'Til The Holly King

Well, actually since Yule is tomorrow, it's really one more day and yes I know I'm talking about Christmas in Pagan terms...shut up and roll with it. I absolutely forgot what the fuck I was originally going to blog about. I know it had to tie into holiday consumerism but, oh well. Instead since I have no true topic, I'm just going to list random thoughts that I've been pondering and have popped into my head. Hopefully you've been thinking of these as well so I'll feel like less of a freak.

What do blind people see?
Alright, I know what you're thinking, "Addy, that's so stupid, they're blind obviously they don't see anything." But how do you know? I know they can't see like we do, but do you think they see a color, or just blackness? They wouldn't be able to tell us because they can't see.

Think of what I'm asking this way. Say you were blind and all you saw was the color red. Obviously because you're blind, you're not seeing jack shit except for this color, but you don't know you're seeing the color red because you've never seen it in context. As in, this is an apple, it is red; this is a tree it is not...except when it's fall. So you're seeing a color you just don't know it and can't say, "yes I am definitely seeing a shit load of red." Instead you say, "I can't see I'm blind, duh."

Do you think having a regenerating mermaid as an owner is a cat's biggest fantasy?
I mean really, a big fish that will let you eat them with arms to give you pettings. Oh and there's always more fish because the tail regenerates itself. Pretty good deal if you ask me.

Say you were in an anime and were fighting someone that used sound based attacks and powers. If they sounded like Cyndi Lauper, would you be more or less scared?
I honestly don't know my own answer to this one. I mean I love me some Lauper, but what if she was really into psychological torture and made you listen to an alternating set of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and She-Bop for like 5 hours.

Is anyone, other than I, really fucking jealous that Jenna Marbles came up with this shit first?

Also I now feel bad for saying Hon'. But in my defense I'm from Baltimore...if you're born here you kind of don't have a choice. Especially if you're from Hampden. I also think this would be a good formula for insults if you went to the negative side of the adjectives. Sweaty-pizza-unicorn sounds like something you'd call a greasy gay gym goer who was full of himself and possibly Italian.

Double wide trailers are like legos for rednecks.
No seriously. I just learned that you have to snap them together and then they just put siding around it. Although as dubious as that sounds, I'd still have to go with a double wide over a single trailer any day. I've been in single trailers before and almost all of them have a floor that is ready to meet the ground at some point.

When are they going to come out with a triple wide?
So if double wides are like the condos of the trailer park, then a triple wide would be like the fucking mansion, right? You'd be like Richie Rich if he were white trash. You could have two lawn sprinklers! Maybe your property would be so big you could talk your significant other into letting you own a riding mower. Albeit a smaller version of one. Shit would be crazy.

Joking aside, I honestly wouldn't mind this because I happen to like double wides.

Does anyone else have trouble getting their nail polish to stay?
I just painted my nails all cute and shit because I'm actually getting into the spirit of Yule/Christmas/Whatever stupid winter season you do or do not celebrate. Thought I'd be all fancy and doll them up a sparkly red with glittery green tips and a little Christmas tree I painted on the ring finger. I did this Saturday. It is now Monday and half the nails have chips and I'm going to have to do it all over again.

I even went the extra mile and used that diamond strength polish that is supposed to make your nails stronger as a top coat. Nothing. It doesn't matter what top coat I've used or not used. So what I'm asking is which one of you chicks out there that actually reads my blog has the magic top coat I haven't used yet? Are there any nail salon owners out there? Because if I get my nails professionally done, it doesn't happen. What the hell is that about?

Does anyone else get the incredible urge to not brush their teeth for a day and then lick Howie Mandel's face?
I have nothing against Mr.Mandel. He's the most awesome germaphobe I know of and brought me tons of joy in my childhood as the voice of Bobby from Bobby's World and as this dude from Little Monsters.

Little Monsters

I absolutely loved Maurice. I always thought that Fred Savage's character made the wrong choice. I would have stayed with my blue buddy....and found the underneath of David Bowie's bed while I was there.

But whenever I see a picture of him, or see him on TV, I kind of want someone to go up to him and pretend to sneeze into their hands and then force him to shake their hand. I have no clue why. Maybe it's the asshole in me, I just would love to see him freak out. It's like if I meet someone that has a thing about everything being nice and straight, I always want to take one of their meticulously lined up things and slant it when they're not looking. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Alright my shiny-twizzler-puppies! I'll see you bitches later. Also sorry if my paragraphs are two tones, my computer is being stupid in conjunction with Blogger and it looks like some paragraphs are black and other's are grey in the preview section.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Art Cars And Moral High Grounds

I went to Trader Joe's this afternoon. I have really got to remember to stop going places on Fridays...and during Christmas shopping days. It took me almost an hour to find a spot to park, mainly because I'm a pussy about taking parking spots. "Hey! I've been waiting here for that spot and you're just going to take it!...Oh then...OK..."

Finally got my jar of coconut oil. I cannot wait to use it. Mainly because my 10 dollar hair pomade has been used up and this is way cheaper and much nicer smelling. Yes, you read that right, I shall not be cooking with this...well maybe I will actually...but for all the curly headed peeps out there, coconut oil is so good for keeping down frizz and making hair manageable and soft. I've always wanted to try it and then forgot about it until my friend JessJess bought it for the same reason.

I also learned how Brussels sprouts grow today.

The general consensus among my siblings is that is looks like a bunch of weird grapes.

On my way out I saw my first art car. It was parked next to me and at first I thought that someone had just gotten their car trashed by assholes with spray paint. Then I noticed it was the whole car and deliberate.

And the side view:

I actually think it looks pretty neat. I wish I could have met the car's owner to find out if it was for some sort of college project or what.

A couple of days ago I tweeted that I accidentally went full retard on someone. They wrote a post about how you can't be moral and be against gay marriage at the same time. For some reason I felt the need to ask this person out of "internet courtesy" to put it on my blog and offered to link to them if they had a site and wanted me to. Then I woke up the next day and realized why I should probably start going to bed sometime before 4am. But at least my idiocy was polite...I was a gentleman's retard if you will.

He titled it:
No, I'm Sorry, You Don't Get To Take A Stance Against Gay Rights And Consider Yourself A Good Person.

"There are so many people out there who "Voted yes on 8" or "Believe in the Sanctity of Marriage" but are otherwise considered "moral" people. They are kind, they help others, They are good to their friends and family, but they believe that gays shouldn't have equal rights. We see this so commonly in neighbors, friends, and co-workers, and I've heard it all, from "Oh but he's a great guy," to, "No, it's just the way she was raised."

I couldn't GIVE A FUCK.

For those of us on the correct side of this fence, fair and equal rights for gays is something that is SO OBVIOUSLY the right thing to do, it's difficult for us to even comprehend the layers of bigotry that are required to demean and insult a fellow moral human being so completely and thoroughly. It's something that I find difficult to put into words, but as a straight male quite heavily surrounded in the gay community, it is one of the issues I am most passionate about. By saying you are against gay marriage, you are saying that you think your stupid title will somehow mean more if you tell others they don't have the right to have it. If I want a fucking pizza, and I don't want pepperoni, I order a pizza without pepperoni, but I don't try to BAN pepperoni because it's "not my thing."

This is something that I think people hear about and if the rest of some one's moral character checks out, their willing to sweep the "anti-gay" thing under the rug. Well enough is enough. When you are voting no on gay rights you are sending a message of hatred that says the person that this person loves is wrong, incorrect, unnatural. YOU are the reason so many teens contemplate suicide, and YOU are taking part in the ignorant social devolution of mankind. I don't care who you are and I don't care about your reasons for your stance, it's wrong, it's obviously insulting and inhuman, and you should be ashamed to think that you can live your life knowing your condemning a lifestyle that you couldn't even begin to understand.

Homophobia and I have a zero tolerance policy, due partially to the fact that I went through a youth of minor religious homophobia. I never gay bashed or thought gays shouldn't have equal rights, but I did think the practice was wrong. It is to this day one of the periods of my life I'm most ashamed of. To imagine that I thought my fellow person was lesser because of who they love is horrible.

It's time we stopped giving this issue a free pass and call it what it is, pure, inane, childish, ignorant bigotry. Sorry if this came off as strong, but as a passionate person living in a conservative town, (When I'm at home. When I'm at college I live in Mt. Vernon, a gay district, and it's simply lovely) It's something that has really got to me. I don't give a fuck about your convictions, your excuses, or your misinformed defenses, you are being ignorant and insulting, and should feel ashamed of yourself."

Even though I personally do not fully agree with his opinion, I love this post for the questions and potential discussions that it brings up. Can you be against gay rights, which is a civil rights issue, and still consider yourself a good or moral person?

I actually think you can. Not all people who are against giving gays the right to marry hate gays, or have a problem with them. To some of them it goes against their religious beliefs. Case in point, I have a family member on the step side. All of these people are Catholics and said family member doesn't believe in gay marriage. Actually I don't believe a lot of people on the step side believe in gay marriage. She is a wonderful person in all other aspects. Great mother, friendly, she doesn't bash gays or anything like that; she just doesn't believe they should be able to get married.

I think it is too easy to try and villianize the people that are against us and cry homophobia at every turn where, in some cases, I believe it just doesn't apply. Even though it constantly boggles my mind and makes no sense to be against something that so obviously should be available, it doesn't automatically make you a bad person in my eyes.

Uneducated, maybe. More than a little fucking stupid, yes. A hypocrite if you think blacks or any other minority should have equal rights except for queers, definitely. But a bad person? Perhaps not.

I think this post also brings up to question, can any of us claim the moral high ground ever?

When I wrote a reply stating that while I understood the poster's anger, I thought he was looking at things too simply. Life is not so black and white, instead it is very, very nauseatingly shitty shades of grey. Of course I was mainly lambasted for this opinion. One person told me that it was black and white and not a grey area like abortion.

But is it? There is no doubt in my mind that someone who is vehemently against abortion could write a similar post ("No! You can not kill babies and still think of yourself as a good or moral person!"). To some pro-lifers it is very black and white and there are no grey areas. So too could someone that is vegan claim the same about someone that does eat meat. There are too many variations of this based on our belief systems and opinions on certain subjects and I'm not going to delve into all of them; but you get my point.

So what do you think? Can you be against marriage equality and still be considered a good person?

Monday, December 5, 2011

Signing Away Your Rights At The Dental Office

I was looking around on the internet when this article caught my eye.

Patient Sues Dentist Who Threatened Legal Action Over Yelp Reviews

Firstly, I didn't even know that medical practitioners could ask you to sign such a waiver. This will make me look twice before I sign things. Secondly, I do have to ask what the man was thinking blasting her on Yelp after signing that waiver. Did he forget what he signed?

Do not get me wrong, I am not lambasting Mr.Lee and applauding Dr.Makhnevich. Nor is it the other way around. I do not agree you should have to sign contracts like these to be able to receive medical care....nor do I agree they should exist either. If you are a shitty or shady doctor, then people definitely have the right to know how crappy you are.

But is it right to willingly and knowingly sign away your right (or at least part of it) to freedom of speech, and then sue the practitioner because they are violating your freedom of speech that you gave up to begin with? I guess hindsight will always be 20/20 in the end. How funny that sometimes we don't know what exactly we are giving up until it's gone.

If it was me, I never would have signed the paper to begin with. There are plenty of other dentists that could use my money; many of whom don't seem so shady (I would consider that a red flag if they don't want you to talk about it afterwards. How bad are you? What are you trying to hide?). Maybe after more of her patients did that, then Dr.Makhnevich would have changed her tune, and stopped using those waivers.

Be careful what those doctors have you sign people.

PS: Is it just me, or is it weird that some of the articles online are focusing on her singing career? Anything for a song based play of words or pun, huh writers?

More reading: Clinician Sued For Enforcing Contract On Online Reviews

Monday, November 28, 2011

Zombie Survival Letters

I hope everyone had a better Thanksgiving than I did. I spent mine eating dinner at Denny's and listening all weekend to the details of the fight my Grandma is having with her daughter, my Aunt. Then I come back to work and have to hear about some stupid fight between two co workers that has been apparently raging on since last week. I actually heard one of them say, while complaining because some people (I included, but she doesn't know that) went to our supervisor about her behavior, "Where I come from, it's snitches get stitches. But if you're going to go and snitch on me, you can bet I'm going to go and snitch on your first before you can." Of all the juvenile, ghetto things I've ever heard, this has to be top ...6 at least. We work in a business, not on the fucking street, act at least a little classy and professional.

So many things to face-palm at, so little fucking time to do it. I honestly feel like I spend so much of my time throwing up my hands and backing up going, "I don't care. This is your problem not mine, I'm going to stay out of it as much as possible because I don't care enough to get involved and have a true biased opinion."

Sorry for that mini rant. Just had to get the annoyances out. Now onto more entertaining things.

A few weeks back I entered a creative writing swap/project/...thing. You had to write to your partner as if you were surviving a zombie apocalypse and had gotten split up from them. It was a very neat project; especially since you were encouraged to 'decorate' your letter to match what happened in the letter, or the theme of the writing prompt. So without much ado and because I'm pretty horrible at segues, here are my two letters I sent out, and the two I received. Hope you enjoy reading what I enjoyed writing...and reading.

The first letter I tried to keep serious. I put red dye on my hands and left hand prints as if I had actually been injured and in a rush to write to my partner, and unable to clean the blood off of my hands.

Hey Becky!
Don't mind the blood, paper is scarce where we are and we've managed to stop the bleeding for the most part. Don't worry, none of the blood is from the infected, and I'm not bit either.

Actually we had a run in with looters. We saved most of our stuff. Food mostly, but they got away with some water, cleaning supplies and two med kits.

I am so glad you're at a safe house, how is it holding over there? Listen, in your last letter you were making plans to come to us...DON'T!

The looters are getting crazy, there's very few supplies and the zombies are even braver than the looters. At first they were afraid of our guns, some residual primal fear I guess....they have quickly gotten over that.

I'm trying to get the others to leave with me, I'm heading over to you. Some don't want to go; mainly residents who've lived here forever and a day. Hopefully I'll find an even better safe house you can make your way to on my way.

Catch ya on the flipside,
Addy DelaMorte

The second one, I wanted to try and inject more humor into. I assumed the persona of a kind of annoyed, bored, sorority type who really isn't too worried about her current predicament. The person I had to send to lived in the Netherlands I think, I can't really remember, so I just pretended we were pen pals. I also didn't want to go the normal route of 'Oh noes! Undead viral infection!', so I went a more paranormal route.

Hey! Sorry about the state of the paper!

Before I even begin to tell you the story behind it, let me tell you what I just found out! (I'm fine by the way. My family and I, and a few friends, are still holed up in the college's gymnasium with more than enough supplies courtesy of Mom. She won't stop bragging about how she knew her paranoia would pay off eventually :p).

Alright so, on behalf of my country, let me just say, sorry for the zombies. That's right, they originated here. Remember that weird dude Jeff I was telling you about? The one in math class who always carried a copy of the Necronomicon everywhere? It was him! Apparently he was really into necromancy and is one of those ones with a huge ego (You know, the delusional 'The world will be mine! Mwahahahahahaha!' types.) and magicked them all here. Well not all of them, just the first few that did the biting and infected everyone else. That's why they all seem to have a hive mind. And unfortunately why they're hard to kill. Jeff keeps gloating and strutting all over the neighborhood.

Which brings me to the paper. One of my classmates who is holed up here with us, Brandon, looked outside yesterday and saw his girlfriend who was supposed to be making her way to us. Let's just say she didn't really make it. He was never one to handle stress well anyway. I remember he failed his remedial English final because he saw her hug and kiss another boy and spent all day moping, wondering what to do. (The boy turned out to be her cousin, what the hell Brandon?!)

He went all crazy and decided to just start burning things. Got pretty far too but we put it out and managed to save some things. Now hes in a fetal position in the corner crying. The poor illiterate bastard.

We were worried the commotion would draw them near, but no! I know we all know they are afraid of fire, but they also hate the smell of it too. The got interested because of the noise but once they smelled the burning smell, it drove them away. Some are still lingering but they're keeping their distance.

I think we're onto something here.

Addy DelaMorte,
I hope any of this info helped you somewhat. Stay safe!

I really liked the letters I got back as well. Both of my partners seemed to have some sort of hive mind and based their letters about being on ships when the zombies started attacking.

The first one wrote hers as a diary entry from a little girl.

Dear Diary,
Mommy woke me up early last night and said we were gong away! She said Daddy was gone, I think he left because of me but I won't tell that to Mommy, she's been crying all night and day. We drove all night and out on a boat. It was SO BIG!

We are in a small room with another family. I don't like them, there's a little boy who's bleeding and his Mommy won't let him play with me. His arm looks like a dog bit it and won't stop bleeding, even if they press it tight!

The boy won't shut up now. His daddy tied him to the bed in here! His eyes look red like he has pink eye and now he's bleeding EVERYWHERE! Even his nose is bleeding and his Mommy won't wipe if for him. My Mommy always wipes my nose.

You wouldn't believe it! I went to say sorry to the little boy, and he bit me! What a brat. Now all the grownups are mad at me! This is SO unfair!

I don't feel good. My body hurts and I'm hungry. No one wants to come near me, and all I want is a hug. :(

Amy <3

I thought it was kind of creepy, and a little sad. Poor idiot child with good intentions. I also really loved the drawing at the end. I giggled a bit more than I probably should have.

I was so excited when this last one came in the mail. The sender actually sent it to me in a bottle through the mail.


Dear anyone,
It's been months since the initial outbreak. Almost everyone I've known is gone. There are still a few of us alive, on the aircraft carrier we've fled to. We're safe here for the moment. Food, water, power. Of course, none of us want to consider just how long this will last or what will become of us after these necessities run out. Our little haven in the midst of the storm. For a moment we can almost pretend life is normal, away from the rot of the city and the howls of the undead. We stumbled upon the ship after our little yacht ran dry. Like a beacon of light shining in the distance after hearing our distress call they came and picked us up. Most of the crew had taken ill and were quarantined to the lower decks. No one ventures down past the 3rd deck for this reason. Some have taken to systematically cleaning a few of the rooms, shooting the undead as they go. It's been slow going however as few want to risk being with the zombies in small cramped spaces below deck. The reality and direness of our situation is becoming ever more clear in the understanding that the overstock of food and the water desalination tanks are all down in the bowels of Hell. If the equipment goes down or we run out of food, whether we head to shore or venture below, we will eventually have to face the hordes. Sometimes I think I will wake up, but then I never do.

I don't even know why I am writing this. It seems almost silly or comical to write a note, stick it in a bottle and cast it out to sea. Maybe in a way it's like hope, that this might wash up somewhere and someone will find it, read it and know they aren't alone. Maybe it helps me feel not so alone. Sometimes to pass the time we sit around the radio listening to the static. Late at night in the dark after focusing on the popping for hours you start to hear voices. Never legible words, just mumbles. Even though we have each other, there is still the need of contact. Even the remote possibility of other survivors. I am so weary of hoping. Once in a while we will pass a ship and hail them. Each ship passes without word however, phantoms on the sea. Once we passed a cargo ship, its decks lined with shipping crates. We were close enough to see the undead stumbling towards our ship and falling overboard into the depths of the dark ocean. I had to wonder if the fish would even touch their foul flesh. There are days when I miss land but the ocean has its own ethereal value - the sunsets, the dolphins leaping in our wake. Still out here in the big blue we're stuck with our grief and horror. There's no place to flee our nightmares, no place to tuck them away and forget. I am thankful that I am alive but then what's the point in living if it's every waking moment in Hell, every last breath like some ironic stanza out of the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, the poem I was forced to learn in school and can not shed from my thoughts.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie;
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky,
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

Keep hope, I pray this finds you well. Continuing on upon the USS Rosevelt, by the grace of God.


I absolutely loved the inclusion of the poem too. I think it really set the tone overall. Not to mention that the person's writing was quite poetic as well.

These were so much fun to write. It was very neat to come up with my own zombie mythos and create my own rules for the world the people lived in in the letters. Also the writing and creativity practice is always good.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Random Bullshitty Post

I got to go camping with my Scouts this weekend so they could earn their Breathe Journey badges; or whatever the damn Journey books want to call them. I swear 90 percent of the people I was camping with were on their periods. But despite some drama and patience running thin, I still had a good time overall.

It just reminded me how much I would absolutely love to go camping with just my Jessie's and I though. There's so much stuff that we could get done in regards to their etsy shop and my stories/drawings/other creative projects. Especially if it was just us, relaxing and helping to keep each other focused. Plus I like the peace and calm of the woods.

We did tie dye at camp. Here's one of the Jessie's (Chicky) handkerchief that she dyed.

I didn't notice it until JessJess said something, but there's totally a Green Man pattern in the middle of it.

Mine didn't come out as colorful as I had hoped for it to.

Mainly because the girls were bogarting all the dye bottles. Lesson learned for next time, be more aggressive when asking for the blue dye. Or alternatively wait until they're all done and use the second set of dye that JessJess brought to camp. One of these days I want to have a major tie dying day with my Jessie's. I guess it's the hippy in me, I love that shit.

I also learned while at camp that no matter how young you are, once you pass the age of 23, people under the age of 17 regard you as 'old' no matter what. Then there's the little fact that I'm only 5 years away from being 30, 4 years come this December the 20th, and I really feel old.

I also drew two ATCs for a Marilyn Manson swap I was in a while back.

I don't mind this one, I actually quite like it. Except now that I'm really looking at it I kind of fucked up his lower lip. I'm still somewhat rusty with drawing. It's been a long while since I've drawn and even longer since I've tried to draw realistically. I'm much more used to cartooning.

This one I have some qualms with as well. I think I just should have taken a bit longer to do it than I originally did.

I sometimes get so annoyed with any of my creations, written or otherwise. I will look at them one moment and I absolutely love them...then I look at them another moment and I contemplate throwing them away, deleting them, burning them in a purifying fire, what have you. It keeps trading off and on like that and of course I am never satisfied with them. Something could have always been better. I guess in a way that is a good thing though.

I also get annoyed with the size limitations for ATCs. I find it hard to draw or paint or whatnot on small canvases.

Well then, I shall see you bitches after the holidays and will have a more awesome blog post, I promise.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Epic Wish Day

I am contagiously giddy about tomorrow....or maybe I should say today, it is 2:32am at the time of writing after all. Yes, you read that correctly, I said giddy. Giddy like a sexually mature, yet shy, college student about to have tea with Mr.Darcy played by Alan Rickman. Mother fuckers I'm giddy!

Because tomorrow is Epic Wish Day. I even got my co workers talking about it (excitedly I might add) at work, because that's how much of a fucking child I am. I have already set my alarm to 11:00 am.

Wishes are funny to me sometimes. Everyone has their own way of wishing, some sort of little ritual we endow on something that is already a bit of a ritual. Depending on the reason for wishing I have a couple of ways to go about with the actual wish; but the most important part is to close your eyes. Like when 11:11 pops up, you must close your eyes and place your hands flat on the surface in front of you. If you can not do this, then balling them into fists and placing them in your lap is acceptable. Then you must wish for the whole minute and try your best to keep your eyes closed until 11:12.

I don't know why I do that. I have no logical or even illogical reason for balling up my fists or laying them flat in front of me. Sometimes I feel silly afterwards even if I'm alone, like someone is spying on me and saw. But it's just how I wish.

And because I would feel like a douche bag for not including this in the post, tomorrow is also Veterans Day, so take some time between 11:11 am and pm to go tell your veterans how much you appreciate them. Trust me you'll have time, it's like twelve hours between wishes.

I believe I'll be sending my Aunt a text in the military phonetic alphabet (and calling her, don't worry)....because I'm a dork.

Happy Epic Wish Day! And Veterans Day!

I don't usually ask questions to my readers, but I'm feeling curious, so how do you wish? Does it have to be some special way or is your wishing strategy more of a Wham!Bam!Thank you...birthday cake candle/specific time of day/night star type of thing? Also if you do the latter, shame on you people! Don't you know you need to lay your wishes down by the fire on a bear skin rug?

Oh! Before I leave this post, let me leave you with this e-card my friend sent me today. This is one of the myriad of reasons why I love her. Perverted, silly gal she is.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Michigan Fights For Its Right....To Bully

Michigan Senate Republicans have passed a bill that allows people to bully others based on moral and religious reasons. Then, to show that they know what the word 'asshole' means when applied to them, they name it after a gay teen who committed suicide because of bullying that this bill allows.

You can read about it here.

This is the lowest of lows. In the face of all the recent suicides that have happened or will happen because of bullying, this is absolutely sick. These people that have passed this bill should be charged with accessory to a crime. They may not go out there and actively harass someone but they might as well, who knows how many people this will hurt.

What these people don't realize, is that suicide is only one of the things you'd have to worry about with this bill. People react in different ways. Some want to hurt themselves, and some want to lash out. In all honesty, I'm just going to throw it out there, they're setting themselves up for another Columbine or school shooting.

Fuck it doesn't even have to be a school shooting, because this bill applies to all ages and all people.

When I was a child in the 8th grade at Southampton, I was harassed day in and day out by this bitch named Kim. She made fun of me for being fat. All the time. Looking back now at old pictures I realize I wasn't really that fat, but it didn't matter because she made me believe that I was horrendously overweight. She made me believe that I was worthless. I almost failed classes because if she was in one of them I would fake sick, numerous times, to get out and stay at the nurse. The worst part was that my locker was right next to hers and I would continuously either miss the bus or almost miss it because I was too afraid to go near it when she was near. There was no telling what she would do once she saw me.

And as per usual in these types of situations, no one helped me. I told teachers who told me to ignore the girl that pushed me into walls and got in my face to scream at me and tell me how disgusting I was. We were made to go to peer mediation, which is a bullshit way to deal with things, I presume because the principal didn't actually want to deal with it. The mediator was one of her best friends. Kim said I was blowing things out of proportion and her friend looked me in the eye and told me Kim would never do those things. As far as the teachers were concerned Kim was a good person. They never saw her do any of these things, because she was smart enough not to do them while the teachers were in ear or eyesight.

I had no where to go, no one to protect me. Things finally came to a head when she asked to talk to me and lead me into the bathrooms while I was trying to go to my bus. She exploded at me because I had dared to go to someone else for help about what she was doing. She slapped me a couple of times in the face and called me a pig and then told me that if I told anyone she would blow a hole through my head. She told me that she was lucky she didn't bash my face into a wall right then and there.

I went home and it was like I had snapped. I was angry this time. Angry at her for what she had said and did and angry at myself for not doing anything about it. For a week I planned her murder. I had everything figured out to the last detail; or at least I thought I had. I may have been able to hide evidence but the fact that I was planning on running away after that would point everything all at me. Also I was going to dump her body in one of the school trash cans and cover her with trash. Once again, she would have been found. Also there probably would have been a lot more blood than what I originally thought there would be.

One morning before I went to school I stole my mom's car keys and hid them in my room. I was intent on driving as far as I could after school. I took a knife to school and kept it in my pants pocket. All day I looked for her; I wasn't afraid, I was pumped. Also a little paranoid. Every so often my hand would absent-mindedly go to my pocket to check and make sure the knife was hidden and it didn't look like I had one. When I got to my locker I stuck my hand in my pants and gripped the handle and asked her friend where she was. She was sick and didn't come to school that day. I went home and put the knife back when no one was looking and told my mom the keys she was looking for all day had been in my room. Then I played stupid as to why they were there.

I couldn't believe how stupid I had acted. How could I even think of killing another person? How could I have almost done something so absolutely idiotic? I had almost thrown my whole life away.

The next time Kim came into school, she acted different. I'll never know if her friend told her about how strangely I acted when I asked for her, or if someone at school finally listened to me and called her mom or what. I can't remember exactly what she said to me, but she called a truce. She said she'd be my friend and stop hassling me if I went on a diet. I agreed if only to get her out of my hair and to make my living hell finally fucking end.

Later that year I almost passed out in math class and had to be sent to the nurse because I had starved myself for three days and forgot to stay hydrated. After that I got smarter and remembered to bring a water bottle to school. I would have done anything to make her leave me alone and not eating food was a small price to pay. If I remember correctly it wouldn't be until halfway through 9th grade when I would say, fuck this starving shit.

After I graduated 8th grade, my family moved back to our old house. Everyone hated it there. I never saw Kim again and I never had to deal with her. It would be another year before I started to get my backbone and finally start standing up for myself...which gave me the courage to stand up for others when I saw them going through what I went through. That's not to say that everything was absolutely cheery and I had a perfect life or anything, after 8th grade is also when I started to cut to numb myself from the pain. But for the most part when people gave me shit I told them where to stick it...and more importantly I had friends who would if I didn't or couldn't. Friends that treated me like a blood relative and who I also thought of as family.

To this day I've always wanted to confront Kim. Ask her what the fuck was wrong with her and let her know exactly how far I was willing to go to make her quit. Also I get strong urges to punch her in the face. I will always remember the gut wrenching fear I felt all throughout school. The shame and humiliation and the feeling that, even though I had friends, I was all alone in this fight that not even adults were willing to help me with. I remember nights when I would cry into my pillow and pray for God to kill me, or ask Him and His angels why they hated me so much they would allow this to happen.

You can absolutely give a moral or religious reason for teasing someone for being overweight. You can also give a moral or religious reason for bullying someone for being black, mixed, doesn't matter. These Senators are putting people in the same exact position I was put in in 8th grade. I didn't kill Kim and I was brought back to my senses...but who's to say that the next person or people will come to the same conclusions? As I said before, suicide is not the only thing these bill makers will have to worry about. Not everyone is going to stand for someone else's shit.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Rake Road

There is a road that my friends have dubbed 'Ghost Road' about a ten minute drive from where I live. There have been some creepy experiences there and some sightings. I tend to call it Rake Road (after the *Rake **creepy pasta) because of one of my experiences.

I like to take fuck it drives and usually at night since I don't sleep until late. This was when I first got my car and was exploring places. I was driving up and down North Point Road and decided to take a left on one of the roads where the new developments were. I was alone the first time and had driven all the way down, through the wooded part to the dead end. I turned around to go back and was just smoking a cigarette when I saw it and hit the brakes. Not because I was about to hit it, I just didn't want my car to go near it.

About fifteen feet in front of me there was this all white thing. At first I thought it was a deer but it was too disproportionate to be one. It ran across from where the developments were to the other side of the road and stopped to take a quick look towards my car before disappearing into the bushes. It looked almost like a dog and was very, very skinny; but it ran like a hunched over person. When it looked my way I just remember big, bright white eyes. It also kind of looked like it had scraggly, thin hair hanging from its head.

I flicked my cigarette away and quickly lit up another one as I rolled up all my windows as fast as the automatic button would allow. Then I made sure all my doors were locked. I drove somewhat slow at first because I was going to see if it was still somewhere near the side of the road but then thought; 'Fuck that, it looks like the Rake! And even if it's not, it could be rabid and aggressive!' So I went straight home to bed and made sure the doors and windows were locked. Yeah, I'm a chicken.

Another time I was taking my sister down there to look at Christmas lights because the people that live there like to decorate and go all out. We decided to go all the way down through the woods to get to the dead end to see if they had anything worth looking at. As we're about to exit the development I tell her to roll up her windows and make sure the doors are locked. She asks why and I told her I'd tell her about the 'dog' I saw on the way back home. As we're driving towards the wooded section she screams. I didn't see anything weird so of course I'm like 'What the hell is wrong with you?' She said she saw a little girl, she looked about ten years old, in a white nightgown by the side of the road and it freaked her out. I look in my rear view mirror and can't see anything. My sister is freaking out and wants to go back home but we're already halfway through the woods and I can't turn around on that road. We get to the dead end and I turn around, as we get to the place where she thinks she saw the girl we drive slowly looking for anyone. No one was there but a little tree. I teased her that the tree was probably her 'ghost'.

A couple of months later I'm hanging out with my friend and two of his friends and they tell me about Ghost Road. I ask where it is and they say it's on North point where the new developments are. I didn't want to try and give them anything to go on so I ask them to tell me the story behind it and why it's dubbed that.

They tell me that there have been sightings there of a little girl that was kidnapped and killed...I don't know how many years back. I ask them what she was wearing. They told me a white nightgown, and when I asked them how old she was supposed to be, they said around eight years old.

We tried to go there that night to take pictures after I fessed up about my sister's sighting, but found nothing. I've wanted to go back, but my car window doesn't shut (Again! Although this time it's a different one.), and I'll be damned if I'm going down there with a window that can't close.

*The Rake concept art

**The Rake creepy pasta

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Fantastic Cemetery Photos

I had a cemetery photo exchange swap due for the website Swap Bot and thought I'd share some of the pictures I took of one of my favorite graveyards to go to.

I love cemeteries; they're always so peaceful and quiet...for obvious reasons. The perfect place to get away and read a book or go art long as you are respectful of the hallowed ground on which you step of course.

This is the inside of one of the mausoleums. I love the huge stained glass windows. It's also the perfect *sleeping place and the building that I accidentally set the alarms off in. A couple of years back I went to the graveyard for a picnic and it was kind of chilly outside. However I wasn't ready to go home, so I took my purse and book and went inside the mausoleum. I sat in the little circle area to the side, so I wouldn't bother anyone that happened to come in, and accidentally nodded off while reading (it was really warm!).

All of a sudden I hear this slow beeping sound and think, 'Oh crap! They're backing in the coffin! I'm going to interrupt a funeral, how do I get out of here?' Then I realized that trucks make that sound, not coffins. The staff didn't see me and were locking up for the night. Double crap! I race towards the entrance but by the time I reach it I hear the alarm set. I'm standing there watching the security guard walk away with my hand resting on the door. I tried knocking and calling for him but he didn't seem to hear me (or maybe he's used to unseen people calling and knocking?) so I had no choice but to open the door.

Did you know those alarms are really loud? He was very nice about it as I ran up to explain what happened and kind of showed me how to get in and out of the graveyard when no one was there "in case it ever happens again". I don't think he meant to show me how to break into the graveyard, but I use this knowledge for good and not evil, thus I am not traipsing around the cemetery at night. Although that does sound like fun!

I just had to take a picture of this tombstone, only because it's the only one I've seen that has a pentacle on it. Or what looks like a pentacle. Maybe they didn't mean for it to look like one and I am mistaken as to what it is. It makes me wonder who this woman was and what she was like. Was she pagan or some other religion? Was she nice? The marker next to her had an eagle type of design on it, it was somewhat hard to see because it was faded and worn away. I think she was married to a military man.

I once cast runes near here to see what I could find and came up with a lot of good things. I can't remember what they said, so I'd like to think she was a nice lady with a nice family. Also her site has a really calming type of presence.

But I could also be wrong.

Now this is just awesome. Once again, the more unique the tombstone is the more it makes me wonder just exactly who was this person I never knew. Was he just a big music or rock fanatic and couldn't play a note? Or was he the worlds greatest undiscovered talent? Or maybe he was discovered? Who knows.

I thought this was beautiful. The cemetery I was in didn't have much in way of statues or any really ornate markers. But the ones they do have I love.

You don't usually get to see color on tombstones. Such a pretty green.

I thought the simplicity in its statue and engraving was touching and beautiful. I always liked these kinds of tombstones.

As much as I like statues in graveyards the eyes of this one were kind of spooky. I like them better when they're closed. When they're not they have these weird little pits for pupils and it makes them look like they're watching your every move. This one's gaze made me slightly uneasy I must admit.

*I think it should be said I'm not advocating napping in mausoleums.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Basement Dweller

I hate basements. I think any sane person does. When my family and I moved to Harford County and I saw the layout of the house, I thought 'finally! I get to have an actual room!'. That thought was soon crushed however when my parents took the master bedroom and the kids took the other two bedrooms upstairs and I was once again delegated the basement. Looking back it was fair because my brothers and sister were very young but it annoyed me to no end then especially because the basement was hardly what you could call private.

Younger siblings being as they are will always find any way into an older sibling's room. My room connected to the laundry room by means of an unfinished wall where one could squeeze through. I would always turn around from writing or doing whatever I was doing in my room just in time to see a little head peeking from around the corner of the wall.

Then there was the storage room. My room had a huge walk in closet with slated doors that would fold open or closed. The only thing bad about this is that I couldn't lock them. There was a storage room across from my room and a little hall way that led from that room into my closet. Why anyone would want to construct a house like this is beyond me. I finally got smart and started to bind my door with a thick rubber band, but that was short lived. My younger siblings would try and come into my room via the storage room and find they couldn't open the doors of the now dark closet. They were young and would freak out so much it wouldn't occur to them to go back the way they came or they would get too scared to do so and would start to cry and yell for my mom. My mom would either take off the band and let them out through my room or call to them from the storage room and they would get the courage to go back. Then she would tell them I was being rude and ignorant and didn't like them.

I hated that room. I hated that closet. I would wake up and find the previously closed doors open. I would rush upstairs to my mom and ask her why she kept letting my siblings come into my room only for her to brush me off and cover up for them, claiming that they went right to school and didn't try to come into my precious room.

Waking up to that would always creep me out even though I knew that it was only my brothers and sister doing it. It even gave me nightmares and I would wake up and look through the dark to make sure that the door was indeed still closed.

One night however gave me reason to believe that it might not all be to blame on the kids. I went to sleep rather early because I had school the next day. I had a dream that I was laying down on my bed and my closet door began to open. Out of it came two monsters. They were cold and clammy and had green stringy matter that clung to them. They had no real features and where their eyes were was nothing but darkness. They picked me up screaming and fighting and lifted me high above their heads. They carried me out of my house and down my street towards the center of my neighborhood. Where there was usually a playground there was now a vast lake with a long pier leading off of it.

In all dreams there are certain truths. Certain rules. You don't know how you know them, you just do and it's usually a split second before the dream rule will be enacted. In this dream I knew I couldn't swim. I knew that if I were to be thrown off the pier and into the lake, I would drown and die. I fought harder and screamed louder but my cries were met by deep laughter. Then I got an idea and started to scream for myself to wake up.

When I woke up I felt myself fall onto the bed. And when I looked in the darkness towards my closet, the door was open.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Return To Jericho Bridge

I know I blogged a bit about what happened when me and my friends, TJ and Mr.C went to the Jericho Covered Bridge. I never blogged about the second time we went. Believing the story is up to you but it is really creepy so, here it goes, enjoy.

I'm working late one night and it's slow. I'm just waiting for the clock to hit midnight so I can get the fuck out of there when Mr.C calls on TJ's phone. It's them and two of their friends and they want to know if I want to go ghost hunting with them. At first I told them no. It's late and I'm tired. Mr.C tells me they're going to *Jericho Covered Bridge again to see if they can get any of the spirits to come out and see if anything more happened. They're especially excited because we'll be going after 'The Lady' crosses the bridge, which according to them and people I've heard this story from, is when stuff really starts happening at the bridge.

I oblige but tell them I'm bringing my car this time since my car is the one with all of the protections on it. My shift ends and I go to my car and they're already waiting for me in the parking lot sans one friend who had to go home. I follow them to the their house and we park TJ's car and everyone piles into mine. I'm kind of tired and for once TJ is awake so I let him drive.

Automatically I know that this night might not go as well as planned. For starters, Mr.C has taken to adopting one of his roommates nieces as his drag daughter, which isn't part of the problem. She is, however, interested in learning about Paganism/Wicca and a couple of times I had to stop and correct him on some things he was teaching her. Then he tells me that he brought incense to light on the bridge. One incense is for protection and another one is for calling spirits. Right off the bat he gets them mixed up...twice. He is the world's blondest black boy I swear.

We arrive at the bridge and drive right through and park a ways up. Everyone piles out of the car. Mr.C and his drag daughter go over to the bridge with me and TJ in tow. Mr.C wants to try and contact whatever is there before we drive through with the car. No problem. The thing with this bridge, besides it being a crybaby bridge of legend, and the rumors that if you drive through it at night you can see people hanging from its rafters; there is a rumor that there is also an evil presence. Some people have called it a demon, some just say it's some sort of bad spirit that lives under the bridge and won't let the other good spirits leave. Mr.C gets it in his head that he's going to, for whatever reason, try and exorcise this presence or contact it in some way with intent for it to leave. Me and TJ just exchange 'Oh great' glances.

He lights the incense for calling spirits and starts talking to it. I forget at this point what exactly was said, but it was your usual fair of 'Is anyone there.', 'Don't be afraid to make contact.' sort of stuff. I start to feel uneasy, so does he. TJ starts having a sort of weird asthma attack and can't breathe well and we all start hearing splashing sounds coming from under the previously quiet bridge. They sound like someone is either walking through the water towards the embankment, or like someone is throwing stones into the water. We book ass for the car.

Once in the car TJ is breathing a bit better and we're all watching the bridge to see if anything or one is out there while TJ turns the car around. We all decide to go through the bridge and stop in the center one last time before we leave to try and contact anything again from the safety of the car. We roll down the windows and try again to make contact but no thing's happening. It is around this time that Mr.C starts to get impatient, he lights his last incense stick and starts to taunt the spirits, especially the bad one we were warned about in particular. Then he gets kind of quiet and smells the incense that's burning a bit.

If you guessed that his next comment was to tell me that he's mixed up his incense again and is burning the one to call spirits and welcome them in the car that used to have protections on it, then win ten free internets. I start freaking out a bit and he tells me to calm down and whatever is on my car should be enough to keep anything out.

I not so politely remind him that what is on my car is a simple protection spell, aimed more for psychic protection yes, but nothing more. Also that he is burning something that invites the things we're protected against inside. Ignoring my comment he continues to taunt the spirits telling them they're just to chicken to show themselves because they'd 'get their ass kicked by a Pagan'. TJ is laughing and eager to get in on this. He tells them if they're even there to give him a sign. Then he shouts he'll make it easy for them and puts the car into neutral and says, 'Push the car'.

We all sit silently for a bit and finally Mr.C gives up and tells TJ we should go home. Before TJ can put the car into drive, Mr.C and his drag daughter start to freak out a bit and are telling us to look in the rear view mirror. We look in it and there is this hulking dark shape at the end of the bridge. We all look out the back window and nothing is there, back to the mirror and it's there. Then it disappears and the car lurches forward. I look down at TJ's feet and they are on the floor of the car...and the bridge is level ground. I start yelling for TJ to go as fast as he can and tell everyone to imagine the car surrounded by white light, all negative energy being thrown off as we drive away.

We get to their house and they talk me into staying the night as it's really late and we all want to talk about what happened. Mr.C's drag daughter goes up to bed after a couple of card games and us three go downstairs into the basement where their room is. We joke around for a bit and I make fun of Mr.C and call him 'My little ward breaker', then we decide it's time to go to bed. Mr.C doesn't really feel good and we're all dead ass tired.

I'm sleeping on the outer edge of the bed, Mr.C is by the wall and TJ is in the middle. I can't get to sleep at all. It feels like I have come down with a sudden head cold and I can't breathe. Also I feel like there is something pacing behind me, back and forth. I'm too afraid to look behind me. Then I feel whatever presence is behind me stop and it feels like something is reaching over me towards TJ and Mr.C. It only gets halfway before it pulls back. I lay there in bed simultaneously trying not to make a sound and lay as still as possible. Then I feel as if someone has taken their finger and run it down my back. The only way I can describe the feeling is as disgusting. Like something bad was trying to touch your very essence.

I need very badly to get up to blow my nose so I can actually breathe but I'm too scared to. I lay there for another minute or two until their dog decides to jump on me on the bed, trying to get me to play in the middle of the night. With the dog there I get the courage to turn around and nothing is there. I quickly get up and go to the bathroom to blow my nose. Despite a lingering bad feeling nothing else happens and I take turns laying down for about a couple of minutes at a time and getting up to blow my nose again and again. I think I actually got about three hours of sleep.

When they get up I tell them what happened and they all agree it was very weird that it tried to reach across me but stopped. Then it hit me. I'm the only one with a pentacle tattoo on, which happened to be near where it was reaching at. I even did some of the tattoo myself and when I was getting it meditated a bit on it being a permanent protection symbol, as well as a symbol of faith. I also was wearing an amulet that I had blessed for protection previously. None of them were.

Later on for about a month they had all sorts of bad luck until they were able to rid themselves of whatever had attached itself to them.

I haven't been to the bridge since. I also haven't done any sort of protective spells on my car either so we haven't been ghost hunting for a while. I still refer to Mr.C as the 'ward breaker'.

*The link for the bridge on the first post is bad for some reason, so here's a new one. Besides being a 'haunted' bridge it's also rife with history. Jerusalem Mill.

** 'The Lady' is a female ghost that supposedly walks across the bridge at midnight. She carries a basket and people say she looks like she's dropping something on the ground as she walks. Apparently nothing ever happens from the time that she appears until fifteen minutes after. I asked one of my friends about it and he thinks she's some sort of dead witch and is dropping protective herbs on the ground. We all thought the fifteen minute time frame was a little weird until and then we realized that that's more then enough time for a couple of travelers to ride or walk over the bridge. Also from what I hear a lot of the stuff happens after midnight, so she might be some sort of warning that crazy shit is about to happen and you need to get your ass over that bridge and go home.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Short Story: It Passed Us

I have decided that all of October posts will be dedicated to all things spooky. Short stories, personal accounts, yadda, yadda, yadda.

So without further ado, here is a short story I've been working on, I hope you like it. As always, constructive criticism is always welcome. I edited it as much as I could, so if I made any mistakes I'm sorry, I'm still rusty at writing.

It Passed Us

Rebecca and Claire huddled outside of the old house. The chilly November air cut through their light hoodies as they waited for Anna. As they stood in front of the boarded up house, both had the distinct feeling they were being watched.

"Where the hell is she?" muttered Rebecca, "It's fucking freezing out here and it's creepy to boot."
Claire looked around nervously, "Maybe she's left us out here on purpose to play a trick on us. You are pretty mean to her in school."
Rebecca pulled a face and rolled her eyes, "Well if the wannabe witch wasn't so weird! She thinks she's so spooky and can talk to spirits, I bet you this house isn't even haunted."

"Oh the house is definitely haunted alright. But if you're so sure it's not, perhaps we should just part ways and go home then, huh?" Anna said as she silently walked up to them. Her black hair was wet and plaited and she smelled like rosemary. She carried a bulky, black messenger bag. Her eyes roamed over the two standing on the porch of the boarded up house. "I see neither of you thought to bring the things I told you to bring." She stepped closer to them and sniffed the air around them. "And you didn't take your cleansing baths either."

"Josanna it's cold out, I'm not gong to come out here with wet hair and get sick!" Rebecca exclaimed.

"My name is Anna! And there are worst things that could happen tonight, than 'getting sick'." She frowned at them and set her bag down on the dusty porch swing. "Lucky for you I brought what you didn't. I knew you wouldn't hold up your end even if it's for your own safety." She dug out two white satchels that smelled like garlic and something that smelled similar to mint. She handed them over to each of the girls and took out a third and tied it to one of her pants' belt loops. "Whatever you do, when we get in this house, do not lose or let those things leave your possession. They will protect you from what is in the house."

"And what exactly is in the house? And why couldn't we do this in the daytime?" Claire shivered, clutching her satchel to her chest.

"Because despite what Paranormal Activity and certain recent ghost hunters on TV will try and tell you, three am is not the 'witching hour'. The real witching hour is midnight when you straddle the time between morning and night. It is when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest and it is the time when it's easiest to contact the things from beyond. Besides, I've never felt anything around here in the day, only at night. It's like the daylight drives it away." Anna replied lamely as she dug out two flashlights. Rebecca just rolled her eyes again.
"Can we get this thing moving?" She asked.
Anna checked her watch. "We have twenty minutes. Let me lead you to the entrance and give you some back story...and some ground rules. Here, you two have to share a flashlight. I only had two at the house."

The trio crept to the backyard and down the steps that led to the basement door. There were boards laying on the ground. "My brother and I were here previously. There's no other way to get in through the house."
Claire's mouth fell open. "We have to go in through the basement!" She squealed.
Anna looked at her and pointed her flashlight up under her chin. "There's no other way to get in through the house." she repeated emphasising each word.
Claire blushed and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I know everyone knows that a family was murdered here. But what they don't know was how it happened." Anna began.
"Actually we do." Rebecca interrupted. "Some dude went nutso and killed his family in cold blood with a kitchen knife. Cops show up and shoot him. Case closed."
Anna tilted her head and held up her hand waving it from side to side. "Sort of. You got the major parts correct, but what you don't know is that the husband was very into demonology. He thought he could conjure up a demon to do his bidding. Sicko used his family as the sacrifice, neighbors heard the screams and then that's when the cops came into the story.
Tonight we will conjure up the ghosts of the past to see what we can see, but we need to be careful. So here it goes. Don't lose the satchels, stay with me, do as I say when I say it and we'll be safe."

She opened the door and look back at them. "Alright kiddies, keep your legs and arms inside the ride at all times and let's go."

They filed in and Anna gave Claire her flashlight to hold as she set to work rolling up the area rug on the basement floor. Claire looked around and her lower lip quivered a bit. Without looking back Anna sighed and said, "Don't worry we won't stay in the basement for long, now hand me my bag." Anna took out a piece of sidewalk chalk and drew a giant pentagram on the basement tile. She dug through the bag again and took out five candles and laid and lit them at each point. She turned to look at the girls. Claire looked like she was about to cry and even Rebecca looked nervous. She stood still, taking glances around her to make sure they were alone.

Anna stood and brushed the chalk off her hands. She took out a small vial and anointed her head with it while murmuring then went over to the other girls and did the same to them.
"What are you doing?" Claire whispered as Rebecca raised an eye.
"Shhh." Anna murmured. She put the vial in her pocket and motioned for them to follow her into the circle. "Don't leave and don't break hands no matter what happens."

The girls all held hands, Anna cleared her throat and said in a loud, clear voice, "In the name of earth, fire, wind and water and The All; bless and consecrate this circle and the ground we stand on. May no evil be able to traverse this circle, may nothing harm or touch us. So mote it be."
As she began the second part they all gasped and looked back as the basement door slammed open and slammed shut. Claire began to whimper and cry quietly while Rebecca tried to loosen her grip.
"M-maybe we shouldn't be here, I think we should go home." Rebecca muttered.
"No!" Anna said firmly, tightening her grip. "The ritual is already begun and the spirits know we're here. We need to go on. Besides I have everything under control, and may I remind you it was you who wanted to do this in the first place."

She straightened her back and looked up at the ceiling, closing her eyes. Rebecca and Claire shared nervous glances. Anna began again, "Mother Hecate. Queen of magic and the dead, raise the spirits murdered here. Give us a glimpse into what happened that fateful night. Open the eyes of the dead and give them their voice. Show us your power!"
They stood in silence listening to the howling of the neighborhood dogs outside. Claire looked like she was about to run. Both girls stood in a slightly stooped position. Their eyes and mouths wide open, looking around wildly.
"What do we do now?" Rebecca whispered.
"Now we walk, try to talk to spirits. Take pictures with our camera phones, that sort of thing." Anna said smiling. She picked up her flashlight and held onto Rebecca's hand leading them to the edge of the circle. "The circle is open but always unbroken."

The group sneaked through the basement and up the stairs and found themselves in the living room's stairwell facing the upstairs. Claire broke loose from Rebecca's hold and wiped her sweaty hand on her jeans.
Anna looked around for a bit, "Let's start on the first floor."

Claire clutched her abdomen with both hands. "Guys, I'm going to go upstairs real quick, I need to see if there's a bathroom in this place." Rebecca and Anna didn't seem to hear her as they giggled and took pictures of the room. She slowly and carefully walked up the stairs using her cellphone for light. She opened both of the doors she found to be greeted with bedrooms on either side of the hallway. As she shined her light downwards the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She saw scratches in the wooden floor along with what looked like a woman's nail, panted a sparkly green, deeply embedded in the floor. They traveled from the right bedroom to the stairs she had just come up. She looked up and saw a door at the end of the hallway and quickly walked to it and opened it to find a bathroom. Claire stepped inside and breathed an uneasy sigh. She immediately pulled down her pants and set her things on the ledge of the bathtub.

Back downstairs Anna had been trying to contact the spirits of the house. She turned her voice recorder on her phone on, calling hello and asking for names and if anyone was in the room with her. Rebecca stood next to Anna, bored and with her arms crossed. Nothing had happened after the door had slammed in the basement and she was beginning to wonder if Anna had staged that. She checked the time; her clock said half past one. She rolled her eyes and turned to talk to Claire and stopped when she noticed she wasn't there.

"Anna! Claire's not with us!" She exclaimed shrilly. Almost as if on cue Claire's high pitched scream pierced the air. They heard more shouts and deep sobs and hugged each other as they stared at the stairs wide eyed, backing up slowly, further into the living room. Rebecca covered her mouth with her hand, almost suffocated on the garlic-mint smell coming from the bag she held as she tried not to make a sound. There was another high pitched scream and then a gurgling sound followed by what sounded like a door falling to the floor. The girls retreated further back, entering the dining area. As the sound of a body being dragged along the floor towards the steps began, Anna spied a pantry closet. She tried to usher Rebecca in.
"We need to get out of here." She whimpered looking toward the basement door.
"There's no time, now get in!" Anna whispered and shoved her inside.

The door was made up of slots of wood. Anna tried to close them but couldn't. A loud whining gasp left Rebecca as they heard footsteps followed by dull thumps coming slowly down the step.
"Give me your bag!" Anna whispered. Rebecca handed it over to her and she opened both of their bags and emptied the contents in a line along the bottom of the pantry door. She saved a bit of the contents of her own bag and emptied her vial of oil she had brought into it and rubbed the now soaking bag along the door frame.

The dragging sounds got closer and the smell of something long dead and rotten hit their noses. Anna's heart felt like it was about to escape her chest as she hugged Rebecca close to her and clamped a free hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes and bent her head out of fear, biting Rebecca's shoulder to keep herself from screaming out loud.

Rebecca however could not close her eyes and stood there paralyzed in fear. Eyes wide open, the footsteps stopped in front of the pantry and she saw what had been walking about. If she had to guess a sex she would have guessed male. Its body was dark, a slimy black and was lean and muscular. It looked like it had tumors all over its body. Its hands were twitching in an unnatural way as it looked up at the ceiling and smiled a large, gaping smile. She looked down and confirmed what it had been dragging. Held in its right hand was Claire's foot. Her eyes traveled along the obviously broken leg to the limp body attached to it. Claire was covered in blood.

Rebecca tried to stifle a sob and Anna clutched her hand over her mouth tighter. Rebecca trembled in the darkness and felt herself piss her pants as the creature turned its head towards them. It had no teeth save for three very long fangs. A sight like that would have normally made her laugh if it wasn't so terrifying. It ran its bloodied tongue over them, staining them red and slowly brought its finger up to its lips to motion her to be quiet. It slowly set down Claire's leg and quietly walked away into the direction of the kitchen.

Eyes still closed Anna leaned into her ear and whispered, "It just passed us."
Rebecca closed her eyes, sending a cascade of tears down Anna's hand as she mumbled in it, "I know."
With trembling fingers she checked the time and thought, four more hours until sunrise.

As the soft sounds of footsteps came closer and the smell of rot became stronger, both girls hugged each other and sank to the back of the pantry. Trying hard not to open their eyes and stay quiet, each prayed that what Anna had done to the door with the bags would hold. Each held the other's hand, the last bag, dripping with oil, nestled between their palms as they waited for the sun to rise.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Things You Find In A Girl Scout Room

One of the other leaders and I were cleaning out our scout's cubbies and I found this home made magazine. It's quite odd.

Could be you, could be someone else, who the hell knows.

Take the blouse off of Marmaduke and no one gets hurt.

There is no such thing as cleaning, just fuck white shoes, seriously.

In what world does a ranch made out of bacon and hash browns qualify as a famous painting? (Especially when it's clearly a genius one.)

Damn that little beagle and his 1950's morals, encouraging those children to exercise and eat bowls of salad. Can't he see he's a bad influence?!

I thought my circulatory system kept my blood running. Also is it just me or is the right side of the page dripping with sarcasm?

Saturday, September 17, 2011

I'm So Confused

I have no clue what I believe in anymore. I don’t know if I believe in God or Gods or if I don’t. I feel so abandoned by my faith. I just don’t feel that connection anymore with The All like I used to. I haven’t even done any type of rituals or spells either because I don’t know what the point is or if they’ll work. I don’t really pray anymore because I don’t know who to pray to and I don’t celebrate any of the Pagan holidays because it feels like it’s just lip service.

I don’t think I’m an atheist though, I just don’t know how to get that connection back, or what I really believe in and I don’t know where to start looking for it.

I feel so alone in the spiritual sense. It makes me really sad, I don’t feel like the Gods care about me anymore, everything’s just gone. I don’t really know what to do. I keep telling people I’m a Pagan still because the truth is just too complicated to explain.

It’s been like this for a while now. I was looking for signs to lead me in the correct direction to find my spirituality again, but….it just seems like they’ve stopped and I don’t know where to go from here.

Has anyone ever had a crisis of faith before? What the hell did you do?

I can’t help but think that if I was a Christian this might be easier, ha ha.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

One Shot Story: Wendy Roase

I've finally finished editing my story about as much as it'll get done editing. This is a one shot I wrote a while back at work. Some woman I was talking to was named Wendy and when I got off the phone with her for some reason the name Wendy Roase kept repeating through my head. I started writing and the idea in mind was just to create a story that had a play on words with the word 'rose'.

I never gave the characters names other than the woman's name in the beginning, because it never mattered. They didn't need names and I think it would kind of take away from the story if they had names to tell the truth.

The first few sentences I think are a tid bit rough, but I can't think of any other way to start the story, and I'm not sure about a couple of the metaphors. They sound somewhat odd, but I think they fit. Hope you enjoy it.

Wendy Roase

Wendy Rose was her name. It reminded him of her hair; usually velvety soft and dark red like a bud newly bloomed. Now, however, it was distressed and faded like a wilted petal.

No, wait...her name was not Wendy Rose. He kept forgetting the spelling of it. It was Wendy Roase. This spelling reminded him of a different kind of rose, as in rise. As in the rising in his chest that he felt whenever he viewed this woman he should not love. This woman he knew as a girl, had grown into a broken down trolley of a person. As in the rising of bile in his throat as he watched her kill herself, nice and slow, in front of him time and time again. The rising of dread against the fall of hope when the realization set in that he could not save her from herself and that he, alone, was not enough for her to want to stop.

She had not yet risen from her bed. She stayed entrapped in her stupor, even as he took the needle out of the vein in her arm and loosened the belt to let the blood flow back to the limb. The rise and fall of her chest coinciding with his shortness of breath. He always got this way when he played babysitter for her.

He could have called the cops on her at anytime, but he wouldn't do that to her, couldn't do that to her. He was an enabler in every sense of the word and he wanted to kill himself for that, and for allowing himself and her to live a life that others judged and could not comprehend. A life that endangered them at every living moment.

He left the room to throw away the dirty needle. As he looked into the trash can his eyes grazed over the needles, crumpled tinfoil, used condoms and other refuse, all testaments to the ways one can destroy themselves. The vomit was once again rising quickly. Panicked, he jerkily turned around and grabbed a cup. He turned on the faucet and left the cold water blasting as he continuously gulped it down. On his way back, he heard a low, choking gurgle break the din of silence that enveloped the house. The panic came back with such ferocity, it threatened to destroy him. His body wanted to rush ahead, to run to her, calling an ambulance on his phone along the way. He wanted so badly, but his mind detached and left him behind in a dazed state. He stumbled and slowly lurched forward like a creature from a bad zombie movie.

He leaned against the door frame to catch his breath and couldn't take his eyes off her even though he fought to close them. Standing there, he watched her gasp and convulse, her body doing some sort of seductive macabre dance. He snapped out of his daze much too late as her convulsions started to subside. Forgetting all about the phone in his pocket, he raced for the phone by her side, dropping to his knees on the dirty floor. There on the ground he met her dead gaze. When he looks back on this moment, he will remember how peaceful she looked dead, and how broken and sullied, with the myriad of holes and bruises on her arms and scars on her face. She was like a dirty pin cushion someone had thrown away. He'll also wonder if he waited to help on purpose.

Dialing 911, he stared at her. When the operator picked up he mumbled the address and the words, "She's dead, help me.", into the phone and then hung up. He quickly turned his back to her and sat beside the bed. Curling up his knees he laid his head on them crying like a child, hugging himself, rocking back and forth waiting for the ambulance to come; waiting for them to finally relieve him of his burden.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Writing And Editing

Now that I have my own laptop netbook, hereby nicknamed Tinytop, I’ve been writing again. It’s just so much easier when I have a computer, I suck at writing long hand. I just can’t seem to write quicker than the words come and by the time I’m finished one sentence I’ve forgotten the others.

I’m working on editing a one shot story I wrote at work about a year ago. It’s a short story about addiction. I’ve written it all in cursive which kind of sucks because I can write quicker in cursive, but the more excited I get about something, the quicker I write the more illegible it gets.

Cue me spending ten minutes trying to decode a single word. Pain in the ass.

I’ve also almost forgotten what it’s like to write. And I’m not talking about these blog entries I do, I mean actually write stories. For some reason for me it’s a kind of different feeling between writing the two. I think it’s because the other is more creative and shows more of you, lays you out on the table in a different way than writing a blog can.

Sometimes they feel the same, but writing poems and stories to me, especially when they’re unedited or unfinished, is like slowly undressing in front of someone and saying, “I’ve got something to show you.” It makes me kind of paranoid like I want to look behind me to make sure no one is reading what I’m writing even though a wall is at my back. Then again I also sometimes get scared that someone has put cameras in my house (I know they haven’t actually done so, I know I’m just being silly, it’s just a stupid thought I sometimes entertain that creeps me out.), but still.

It sometimes makes me feel jittery and elated and excited and alert, and it drains me. Sometimes all at the same time.

And it feels great.

Does anyone else get this way?

This made sense right?

Oh and by the by, I hope you all stay safe with Irene coming full swing at you fellow East Coasters.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Chocomize Your Own Candy Bar

Let me just say that I love 'make your own' websites. Like Mix My Granola, where you can choose from an awesome variety of yummy ingredients and ...well, make your own granola. Exactly what it says on the tin.

So I got all happy when I found this website that lets you play Willy Wonka with chocolate bars. Chocomize (love that that's a word by the way.) lets you choose from three chocolate bases (dark, milk or white) and up to five ingredients to customize your own candy bar.

The base price starts off at 3.95 for the 3.5 oz. bar itself. Each ingredient costs anywhere from .65 cents to $1.60. Unless you opt for 23 karat gold flakes on your bar, that's $3.25. The gold flakes aren't the only unconventional topping they have. There's also bacon (vegetarian and real), crystallized rose and violet petals, lavender and oregano just to name a few.

Unless you choose few ingredients, or the cheapest, the end result does tend to be a little pricey, but then again this isn't just some chocolate bar that's been sitting on the shelf of a K-Mart checkout line. It is Belgium chocolate and they are made to order, shipped with an ice pack to help make sure it doesn't melt. Also there is a flat rate 6.95 shipping and handling fee for anywhere in the U.S. and a 10.50 fee for the Canadians.

The selection under favorites do have cheaper options; like some of the 'pre-made' bars, or really I should say, popular flavors. They also have a 2 oz. cube of hot chocolate on a stick that comes in a hazelnut, vanilla or nutty amaretto flavor and costs 2.95 per cube.

It is a very neat website and I do love the novelty of being able to customize my own stuff. I also like the fact that a portion of your purchase goes to your choice of three charities they sponsor. The charities they have to chose from are Doctors Without Borders, a "medical humanitarian organization that assists people in need in almost 70 different countries whose survival is threatened by neglect, catastrophe or violence."; Team Fox, The Micheal J. Fox foundation for Parkinson's research; and A Drink For Tomorrow, an organization that helps provide clean drinking water for developing nations that don't have any and spreads awareness of the fact that these people have no clean water (hope all those commas and semi colons were correct or that is one huge run on sentence.).

Now if you'll excuse me, my work wife has had a craptastic month and I think I found a way to make it a little better.

Edit: The chocolate I bought for my work wife came today. Quite a quick turn around, but then again I do live close to where they ship out of (New Jersey). It is shipped in a thermal insulated type of sealed bag with an ice pack to keep everything nice and cool. They also threw in a free little four square of dark chocolate with coconut and junior mints in it. Cute little freebie, my sister loved it.

Just thought I'd update this as extra commentary. Nothing melted and it is in the middle of summer, quick ship and freebie chocolate.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Past Due Updates

So yes, I have been gone quite a bit. Damn my bout of procrastination! Yes, just a least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I've meant to do this update about a month ago when it was relevant. But procrastination came, and then I got sick and had to go be in the hospital for a week, and now here we are.

I'm so happy. The Girl Scout booth at the Heritage Fair went a lot better than expected. Apparently I'm good at getting attention. I'm also good at scaring people. Then again dressing all in black and wearing a pink inflatable crown might do that.

All in all we got 12 girls to actually join and about 4 adults (I think?). Kudos to us and our rinky dinky booth.

While we were there I was introduced to two cover bands I am ashamed that I never heard of before.

Sons of Pirates. Much more than a Jimmy Buffet cover band. They are awesome. For some reason I can't get the link to work with me. Look them up on facebook under Fans of S.O.P. (Sons of Pirates) and join.

And this amazing Beatles tribute band The Mahoney Brothers. They sound like them, dress like them and do costume changes throughout their sets.

I also won this adorable thing from the Boy Scout booth next to us.

All hail King Squishy! Lord over all things cute, squishy and hamster-like. He squeaks when you hug him.

I also feel like semi bragging about these weird technicolor deviled eggs I made for a party at work. I don't know why, they just look cool and I probably shouldn't be allowed near food dye.

I love oddly colored food things. Every time I ate them, I felt like I was reenacting this scene:

Just with less food fighting obviously.