Where are Ghost and Spirit Hunters Hunting?

Where The Hell Have I Been?

2007-05-20T17:16:00.000-07:00

Ok, so there I was working feverishly on new stuff, so what the hell happened? Well among starting a new business and taking classes 6 days a week both of my computers crashed so hard that they both needed completely new hard drives! Grumble, grumble…

So having NOT backed my work up like an idiot I am left with doo doo on my face (silly me).

Oh well, it’s a DO OVER! I still have massive classes but I am getting a break next week so I’ll see you back here with a new article about….ah, but that would be telling now wouldn't it…

Working feverishly, back soon!

2007-01-20T21:10:00.000-08:00

I swear... no, really...just ask me!

(Why do you ask?)

Untill then you'll have to be dazzled by the fantastically beautiful contenance of Mz. Lollobrigida, don't know why really, but I guess it may be because she looks a lot like my dear departed momma who would have turned 62 on New Years Eve !

Ciao bella's,

Spooks

Happy New Year!

2006-12-31T18:40:00.000-08:00

Well, another year is coming to an end, and we have seen many changes in the world. I too have experienced many changes this year.

I have been away from my blog for several weeks due to some of these changes and have missed it (and you) greatly. I have so much to share with you in the New Year, some are the resolutions I’ve made for the infancy of the coming year, but most are observations I’ve made upon reflection of this past year.

Until then, I wish you all the very best of New Years!
Love,
Spooks

The Worry Spot

2006-11-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

I have a worry spot on the side of my face. It’s been there for the better part of eight months. I worry it the same way a neurotic bird plucks its own feathers out, or an anxious dog licks and picks it’s hunches, until it has created an oozing red wound.

Well, mine’s not oozing, but it is a bit on the reddish side.

I’m not sure when it started precisely, although it seems to me, that there was once a small blemish there, before that is, I ever lay a nervous finger to it.

I handle stress a bit differently now, that is, differently than before the accident that thwaped my brains onto the pavement, snapping and rearranging the direction of the receptors in the old bean cavity.

Before the accident, I could shrug off most stressors, like water off a Blue Footed Booby’s butt, but now I tend to tear up and blubber like a an over stimulated Betsy Wetsy doll.

The literature I’ve read on the subject of TBI or “traumatic brain injury” has lay to rest my fear that I’m not “normal”, I’m normal enough for a person recovering from TBI; that is to say, it’s normal for a person to run the full gamut from major to minor personality changes, after a shocking sha-bonking to the noggin.

This in mind, I’m grateful that I haven’t turned into an angry shrew or a babbling idiot; although I did go through a brief, two week stint of nervous psycho-babble for which everyone was relieved, lasted not one day longer.

Anyway, this worry spot has been driving me crazy lately, for it seems that every time it comes close to healing completely and dissolving back into a smooth unmarred complexion, I begin to worry it again. It's like an unconsciouse conscious action, I don’t know how else to put it, I’m aware of what is going on, yet at the same time, it’s like being in a trance, and it happens whenever I'm feeling a little stressed or overwhelmed.

First, my finger runs lightly over the top of it, then, finding it a little rougher than the surrounding skin, I search out and find the purchase of an edge, then, ever so slightly, I begin to worry it. Now I do have a worry stone that I like to caress with my thumb, but this seems to give me more satisfaction some how; and I can’t help but wonder if the psychology of this scab picking has something to say about my feelings of vulnerability, and my unwillingness to close myself off again to the tough turtle shell of my former self.

It might just be that I actually like myself better, now that I have become somewhat softer and squishier as far as my emotions are concerned. I do feel a certain freedom that I never felt before and my close friends have remarked on the fact that I was like an impermeable rock before, full of an over abundance of strength that never seemed to wane, and they found it at times unnerving and even frightening.

I can see how they would feel that way, I’ve felt that way about my father many times, and it’s he whom I’m sure I got trait of stoicism from. I both admired and hated it in him when I was a child, I never felt perfect enough when I was around him, no, and far from it.

So, perhaps this incessant and silly little mark upon my otherwise clear complexion is an indication of my state of being, and a small rebellion against the stridence for impossible perfection.

In any case, blemished or not, I am a happier freer person, now that the masonry of my former countenance, having fallen into a zillion little pieces, are now scrambling themselves into some sort of new working order, and so, are dispelling with old patterns that have little or nothing to do with the survival of my most basic self, I haven’t the energy for keeping that stony façade up anymore.

So now I pick on occasion, stupid habit true. I guess it’s my own little perverse take on thumb sucking or hair twirling, nothing I'd want to grow to accustomed to mind you, and I’m sure I’ll grow out of it soon.

As soon as I grown accustomed to my new me.

A Warning From An Ebay Seller This Halloween!

2006-10-27T09:48:00.000-07:00

I love Ebay, and had some great success last year selling stuff and making some really good cash too, but sometimes you just gotta say "What the hell are they thinking"! I was looking at some of the crap being sold as "haunted" and came across this little guide written by another Ebay seller, enjoy....

Haunted and Cursed Items - The Hottest Scam Going

It's a scam, folks!

By: arwenn61 ( 161 )
475 out of 594 people found this guide helpful.
Guide viewed: 19550 times Tags: haunted ghosts curses cursed paranormal

If you do a search on "haunted" or "cursed" items, you will see a preponderance of these sales. One seller's grandmother apparently had a terrible string of bad luck since every item she is selling is cursed or haunted.
Or check out the "haunted" tarot deck blessed by a coven of 30 witches? A few facts might help us see the problems here. A coven is comprised of thirteen members. A coven doesn't bless tarot decks and sell them. I am a Wiccan High Priestess with over 25 years experience in the Craft of Wicca. These people are out to steal your money. This is a deck that you can buy NEW for under $25 dollars yet they want you to spend 135$??? Don't be taken in by this New Age con game.
Do you believe in ghosts? I do. I have had very real experiences with disenfranchised spirits. Please don't think that just because someone tells you something is haunted that it is. Use your brains, gang. If we cut this trend off at the knees by not buying and by sending notes to the seller that we know they are frauds, we can make Ebay a much better place.
Join me in a crusade to rid Ebay of frauds and cons.

Do your part. Don't buy. Do question.

And now for some laughs!

HAUNTED~ KING MARID JINN/GENIE EXTREMELY RARE/POWERFUL!
SEE INCREDIBLE PICTURES OF GENIE EMERGING FROM BOTTLE!!

REAL Haunted MONKEY's PAW W. W. Jacobs taxidermy monkey

Genuine Monkey paw legal to own No Reserve !!!

HAUNTED MAGICAL Lot Of 9 Gypsy Witch WEALTH Pennies
$$$--- ENCHANTED OLD-WORLD POWERFUL WEALTH SPELL ---$$$

Pieces of Glass (BROKEN) HALLOWEEN HAUNTED! Weird!
I keep throwing it away and it keeps COMING BACK!!

A ((REAL DEAL)) HAUNTED (Condominium / Home) - FOR SALE
Once In A Lifetime Deal ((GHOSTS)) A Bank Loan - TO BUY

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Is it just me, or would you sell any one of these items if they truly did what they say they do?

Ok, with the exception of the poor monkeys paw, that has to go...

The Nameless Vampire

2006-10-24T17:37:00.000-07:00

About twenty years ago I knew a woman who could walk into a room and empty the energy from every human within her reach in a matter of minutes.

I don’t know how she targeted her “friends” exactly, and I don’t recall where I first met her; I only remember that she started coming around my house at least once a week, unannounced and always, always with a gift for me, or rather an offering, which is truly what it felt like. They were mostly small things like decorative lights or a fancy bar of soap that she would say with slight coyness in a shy thin voice, made her think of me.

She seemed somewhat apologetic about showing up the way that she did, as if it were a rather unpleasant task she needed to put me through, but never the less one she felt compelled to do.

She was a strange and uncomfortable woman to be around, she looked to be about forty eight but claimed to be only thirty six, and why she chose to attempt a relationship of sorts with a twenty four year old, who had shown no interest in her whatsoever, I simply couldn’t understand.

She was rather skinny with a sallow complexion, dull eyes, and her hair was a bit on the frizzy and scraggly side with a lifeless washed out nondescript color, and she carried herself in a bowed self protected posture. It would be fair to say that I felt sorry for her, and would like to have helped her in some way, but I really couldn’t stand to be near her.

The most odd thing about her showing up in the first place was that I don’t ever recall telling her where I lived, nor had I given an invitation, and as I already stated I couldn’t even remember having met the woman before she showed up at my door, token in hand.

Hell, I rarely remembered her name correctly (was it Sherri, Sharon, Wendy?) I didn’t consider her a friend, and I found her to be a tremendously awful bore.

I felt myself cringing with annoyance, and something akin to horror whenever she presented herself and her little offering of the week at my door, but I always opened it for her and invited her in, she seemed so pathetic and downtrodden that I couldn’t make myself tell her to go away, which is what I felt near desperation in the back of my skull to do!

I was young and could be a real wimp that way, I’d been hearing the words “You’re too nice” my entire life, meaning that I was a pushover, which I was, so telling her to get the hell away from me was not something I felt I could do without a tangible reason, after all my reasons for wanting her to take a permanent hike, seemed so damned impalpable, and what would I say to her, “You’re a nice person, thanks for the string of chili pepper lights and the lavender soap, but I can’t stand to be near you, so would you please bugger off "? No, far to crass for me at the time, but there had to be some way to make her want to go, hmmm.

In the mean time (rudeness not being an option), I put up with her visits for several months and started to notice an interesting phenomena, whenever she came over, I always ended our visit in an exhausted and drained state, while she seemed to invigorate, stand straighter and even look younger, with bright eyes, pink cheeks and a lilt in her now quite sing-songy voice! She even began to seem more interesting, less boorish, what the hell was going on here?

She would look over at me with her now shining squirrel eyes, inquisitive and sparklingly effuse “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, I’ll get out of your hair now, besides you look tired!” No shit I looked tired! Seriously, I could barely stand up by the end of one of her visits, when I looked in the mirror the pallid creature staring back at me looked older somehow and worn out!

Then one day, to my good fortune, she happened by while I was having a few friends over for Sunday brunch. There was plenty of food, and she looked longingly over towards the tasty spread, steam curling off of the freshly brewed coffee and hot currant/orange zest scones that I had just taken out of the oven two minutes prior, lending a mouthwatering aroma that begged for butter and honey.

“Why don’t you join us, there’s plenty, we’d love to have you?” came a robust voice
“Who said that?” I wondered, “and is it to late to catch it and cram it back down their impudent throat?” but before I could fully register the question, the answer was thrust upon me
“Are you sure?” came the now familiar anemic tone “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your beautiful party”
“Nonsense,” came the other voice I had now identified as my friend Michael “let me pour you a cup of coffee” he beamed, in that nicely modulated, deeply confident, rocket scientist manner of his.

I adored my new friend Michael he was one of the kindest hearted and most interesting people I knew at the time. We met at mutual friends party a few months earlier and had become fast friends. We shared many of the same interests in literature, art and music, he was quite a snappy salsa dancer too, and dragged me out kicking and screaming at least once a month to “samba down” with him.

And now, I wanted to kill him.

So in she came, luckily Michael reached his hand over and said “Names Michael, and you must be_____” Oh geez, what is her damned name? Just as I was about to put my foot in deep doo-doo, she took his hand and filled in the blank herself, which was a good thing, because as usual, I really wasn’t sure what it was (I’m still not).

We showed her in and introduced her to the rest of the merry band of mates: Jana, Terry, Vince and Ted, then sat down to eat.

It wasn’t long before I noticed the quiet that had consumed the formerly boisterous and sunny crew, and then the yawning contest started along with uncomfortable forced chuckles at how “contagious” yawning is. This went on for a good fifteen minutes before we just fell silent nibbling at our Sherried eggs and scones, feigning interest in continuing the late morning festivities.

Now this was very interesting to me, it wasn’t just me she was affecting, I was getting a strangely clear picture that this was something her presence did to many people, and as I was making this private observation I was closely watching the change come over her, how her eyes altered from dull and weary to lustrous and aware, her cheeks flushing and her thin dry lips even appeared to flesh out with a youthful pout. Yes, this woman was blossoming before my eyes, in fact she seemed to be fulgurating with quite a lively luminescence now, even as the rest of us seemed destined for an early nap, and brunch wasn’t even over yet!

It occurred to me then that her little gifts were meant to be more of a surreptitious trade, and that she indeed knew the effect she had on others, and as such, felt an obligation to keep an even score card, was my conjecture. This however felt more akin to trading glass beads for beaver skins with Native Americans, and I suddenly felt dirty and complicit as if I’d accepted a cheap bribe.

Suddenly she popped up like a weasel and said that she had to go now, that she had forgotten a previous engagement and was going to be late. We nodded our goodbyes, and smiled weakly as she bounced out the same door she had meekly entered a scant thirty minutes before!

“What the hell was that, and how do you know her?” asked Terry.
“Holy shit,” said John “can we never let that person back into this house, please?”
“Yeah” agreed Ted “what a parasite!”
Jana could only sit there like a melting pudding pop, staring blandly at her nearly full brunch plate.

Finally my friend Michael put in his two and a half cents “I think that was the most pathetic creature I have ever seen” he said “and Tedly, you’re not far off about her being a parasite, an energy vampire is what I think I’d call her, and Tracy, I am so sorry for speaking out of turn and inviting her in, where on earth did you find her?”

I told them my story of how I couldn’t remember having met her before she showed up at the door, and how she seemed to get younger like a modern day Bathory bathing in the blood of young virgins, I may not have been a virgin anymore but I surely felt drained and bloodless after a visit from what’s her name.

“That is seriously creepy.” said Ted.
"Should we hang garlic on the doors or something?” snorted John “I’ll go to the market right now if you want.”
Janna looked up and in a deadly serious tone added “Seriously Tracy, you need to make her leave you alone, it’s not healthy for you.”

To which we all agreed.

About a week later she came to the door, looking every bit the waif, only this time I was ready for her. I opened the door and said “ I can no longer accept your gifts anymore, I can’t afford the energy loss.” To which she replied “That’s ok, I knew it couldn’t last much longer, and you’ve been very kind to me” then she added something that made the gooseflesh appear on my arms “You know, you lasted much longer than any of the others.”
I still think of her from time to time and I wonder what became of her, but I still can’t remember her name…

Svengali parasites

2006-10-04T19:29:00.000-07:00

He is the oily master of enchantment, all slick and condescending, a constant tattoo beating his self proclaimed superiority, yet whenever his young prey try to break off from him he becomes as docile and “needy” as a lamb, begging her to stay in a sad pleading puppy-dog tone, that quickly turns to to scorn as he demands “how you can be so cruel”, but its not a question, its an admonition …

Surley you’ve seen the mismatched pairing of a wide eyed young niave talent and the often much older “Stick with me kid and I’ll make you a star” grotesquery with his silver tounge and mercurial temper? They leave a thick slime trail as they make their unctuous way across the room promoting their newest and brightest discovery.

Although it is true that many of these “mentor types” are quite good at sniffing out the next great act and propelling them into stardom (like Sonny Bono) there are many more petty promoters out to scabing a living off of their baby protégé, their "Trilby" as it were.

This always brings to mind the estranged husband of 1980 playmate of the year Dorothy Stratton, Paul Sider. Snider “discovered” the sweet teenager working in a “Dairy Queen” in 1976 in Vacouver B.C. and was struck imeadiately by her innocent beauty that was so palpable you would swear there were bluebirds and butterflies in the air around her. He wasted no time in taking advantage of her youth and complete niavete.

Heff recognizing the cheap hustler for what he was, encouraged the gorgeous young up-and-comer to ditch that jerk, and was heard to call him a “hustler and a pimp”. Snider tried to take all the credit for Dorothy’s success and was royally aggitated that no one was willing to give him his “Props”.

Sadly this slick willy ended the life this sweet girl who had so much promise in the most horrific manner; taking a shotgun to her lovely face, and taking charge once more, he squeezed the trigger and obliterated both her beautiful visage and the kiss of stardom that had only just begun to bloom upon her perfect cheeks…

The Vamp In Film Noir:

2006-09-28T20:37:00.000-07:00

Double Indemnity: 1944 Starring Barbara Stanwyck, Fred Macmurry and Edward G. Robinson. Directed by Billy “The master” Wilder with a screenplay he co-wrote with Raymond “all women are broads” Chandler, from the novella of the same name written by James Cain, for liberty Magazine1935.

Phyllis Dietrichson: Evil conniving dame doesn’t come close to describing the depravity of Mz. Phyllis down played brilliantly by Barbera Stanwyck; this cunning vixen plays unsuspecting insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred Macmurry) like some cheap plastic kazoo she’s won at the fair, in fact he’s too easy and she has him sucker marked the second he sizes up her gorgeous gam by making mention of the “honey of anklet” draped around her well turned tibia in the lascivious tone of a wolf on the prowl (he all but smacks his lips in anticipation), but who’s the real predator here?

She quickly makes it abundantly clear to the viewer that in this particular game of Le Chat et la souris, she is the cat and he is the mouse; furthermore, let us suffice it to say that she has let Walter chase her comely tail just long enough to get a death grip on his priapismic one with her perfectly manicured feline claws.

The story is based on a 1927 crime committed in Queens New York by Ruth Snyder and Judd Gray a married woman and her lover. The nefarious couple plotted in true crime fashion to kill her husband Albert whom she persuaded to buy a large insurance policy with a double indemnity clause; they were both electrocuted in Sing Sing on January 12, 1928.

In fact one of the best lines spoken by Fred MacMurray’s character mirrors closely something that Judd Gray said during his own lurid confession: “When I walked I listened for my step…no sound seemed to follow.” Walter Neff ‘s character seems to parrot this when he says shortly after committing the murder: “I couldn’t hear my footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man.”

For both men it seems their humanity had finally caught up with them, but to late, for the die was cast, and cast would die…

The Vamp...

2006-09-14T10:30:00.001-07:00

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Im begging of you please dont take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Please dont take him just because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare

With flaming locks of auburn hair

With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green, Your smile is like a breath of spring, Your voice is soft like summer rain, And I cannot compete with you, Jolene...

Jolene by Dolly Parton

*******************************************

Ooh look-ey there! Mmm, mmm, mmm, here comes miz thing, slithering across the room like a sweetly perfumed black mamba, only a hundred times more deadly.

So where the hell does this slinky archetype find the alluring mendacity with which to weave such a fine and intricate tapestry of amatorious duplicity? (That’s a mouthful.) The good girls lament “What does she have that I don’t?” simply stated, "Tammy" may be the sugar in your coffee and honey in your tea, but this girl is without a doubt the opium in your hookah pipe, and baby the first time you inhale her deliciously smoky musk you may as well kiss your ass as well as your sanity good bye.

But it really isn’t a matter of what missy has that the normal girl hasn’t, it’s more a matter of what this "Matta Hari" is missing that spurs such a gorgeous creature to behave so nefariously.

Perhaps she was once the sweet little "Pollyanna" all daisys and butterflies and her first love was our previous archetype “The Player” who’s bite infected her with such an intense distrust and hatred for men that she became an avowed man eater, or maybe she had a tragic childhood filled with night terrors that left her screaming silently into her pillow while the worst form of parasitism was being performed on her tender young soul. Or perhaps even, she was born a sociopath and the missing part was, oopsie gosh, a genetic boo-boo.

Whatever her reasons, and whether cognizant of them or not, this baby is emotionally and morally bankrupt, she spins her heartless ploys in order to garner the one thing she craves most of all, the infallible ladder to power, and she could care less who’s precious family heirloom she destroys to get it.

To her women friends (when she bothers to make the effort), she is the best friend from hell; dripping with sympathy for whatever problems great or small her poor little “buddy of the month” is naive enough to share with her acutely tuned ear. But beware what you share with the vixen, she, like the fox is cunning and will effortlessly use or twist your most personal secrets to get what she wants. Her motto being “If your stupid enough to share classified information, then you deserve to be used.”

The salacious glamour she dispenses copiously from every pore on her tantalizing body is so intoxicating, that the most reasonable of men have been left sobbing in a fetal position naked and broken on the bathroom floor once this poisoned diva has had her fill of them and given them the “Dear John” poor sods.

And these are the lucky ones.

Men have been duped into killing and being killed by these poisonous sweet-tarts, and you’re nothing but an all day sucker if you fall for any of her ruses, but you’re not alone.

“Femme fatal” is synonymous with heartless seductress, but the fascination with which she captivates her victims may in part spring from a most romantic notion indeed; and that is to capture one and conquer her wickedness with “true love”. This is mere foolishness of course, for living out the fantasy of cracking open her beguiling shell of artifice and diverting all that scrumptious lusciousness into the soft gooey goodness that truly resides deep within her is …well…to put it mildly, delusional.

So la de da, I don’t mean to laugh in your face (alright, maybe a little) but this is not a misunderstood little girl were talking about; under the lipstick rouge and lacey push up lies one of mankind’s greatest hoodwinkers …er…wankers! But go ahead, don’t take my word for it, try cracking the enamel off of one of these turbo charged hot mama’s, you’re likely to be maced by a venom so deadly you’ll wish you’d opted for a vacation in Batswana with your ex girlfriends mother…

Comming soon: The Players and Femme Fatals we love to hate and hate to love in literature & history

A shy and gentle man…A beautiful and gifted woman...A sad family tribute...

2006-09-10T17:32:00.000-07:00

This is a an anniversary that we are compelled to remember, hopefully not more for the political ramifications than for the people who lost their precious lives on what should have been an ordinary workday in early September of 2006...

Wai-ching Chung
Mr. Wai Ching Chung was killed on that crystal clear September morning shortly after being hit by falling debris while waiting for the Manhatten shuttle that on any other day before had taken him to his office at Paine Webber in Weehawken, N.J., where he was a vice president.

His coworker Mark Turner wrote: “Wai and I would sometimes ride into work on the Path train together. We didn't speak much but he always had a smile and a pleasant spirit. I, and the rest of his fellow employees miss him but still have his smile embedded in our hearts. Our thoughts and prayers are continuously with his family.”

This sentiment is often repeated by those who worked with him, including his boss Jon Worth “You couldn’t not like him” he said, recalling the quiet, gentle and shy spirit of his fallen colleague. And it was some time before his office had the heart to take down the sympathy cards that came in or even to disturb his desk.

A dedicated worker, Wai only took the occasional extended weekend and counted those as his vacation time. He never wanted to be away long in case there was a database malfunction or some such.

Those who knew him well could tell you of his intelligent wit and the sweet manner he took with his nieces and nephews who he enjoyed spending time with.

He also had a meticulous sharp mind with a near photographic memory, and loved reading everything he could regarding both science and history.

Mr. Chung, who immigrated from Hong Kong as a child, lived in Brooklyn with his parents Ying-kwan and Pui-Ling Chung and his younger brother Richard, he also is survived by his sister Julie Tam, and her family.

Maurita Tam
Tragically his lovely niece Maurita Tam also was killed that day while working on the 99th floor of Tower 2 at her new job as an executive assistant for Aon Corp. By all accounts she was destined for great things, she was an accomplished singer and gifted with languages as well as a financial wizard on the rise! She was 22.

In the words of her mother Julie: “My brother Wai Ching Chung and my daughter, Maurita Tam...you will always be loved and remembered.”

The Man who's idea it was to get a bunch of bloggers to write a tribute to randomly picked 9/11 victems

Other Tributes

2,996 is a tribute to the victims of 9/11.
On September 11, 2006, 2,996 volunteer bloggerswill join together for a tribute to the victims of 9/11.Each person will pay tribute to a single victim.
We will honor them by remembering their lives,and not by remembering their murderers.

Vampires, The PLayer...

2006-09-08T21:42:00.000-07:00

We’ve all met at least one, that suave guy who’s charm, wit and style seamlessly suck the intended prize into his sticky web of illusions and woe. He does and says all the right things at all the right times, and seems to really understand where your coming from.

He is always attentive and seemingly enrapt by your every word and deed, he’s pouring you a perfectly chilled glass of fume blanc and rubbing your poor aching tootsies while you relax in the fragrant hot bubble bath he has drawn especially for you after your long hard day at the office. Oh, and lets not forget the aromatherapy candles he’s just lit and surrounded the tub with.

All is just bliss, you feel understood and truly loved for the first time in your life… this is the one, this is “Mr. Right” this is your perfect mate and all is connubial bliss… all that is until…until…how can I put this delicately… well, until frankly he’s done with you!

Some will put you on a slow drip and bleed you endlessly, dangling that delicious carrot for as long as you're willing to chase it. Remember, Carrie Fisher's character in “When Harry Met Sally”, the one with the married boyfriend, every other line out of her face was “He's never leaving his wife, is he...I know, I know, he’s never going to leave her” etc… Poor stupid thing, waiting for the impossible dream to be fulfilled like so many others before her. In her case, the fantasy was happily interrupted when her real prince charming (and his wagon wheel coffee table) entered and saved her from using up the best years of her life on this hopeless debacle.

Others come on like a fiery maelstrom, all hot and steamy, and full of verve sweeping you up off your feet, giving you no time to breathe or think about what you're doing; and even if you were to stop long enough to ask yourself “what the hell am I doing?” you're more likely to tell that niggle in the back of your skull, that lovely primitive lizard brain of yours, who’s only job is to warn you of danger to “Bugger off”!

And even though your mother, your best friend and your ex-husband are wagging their index fingers at you and reciting the old maxim “If it seems too good to be true, it probably is to good to be yada, yada, yada.”

Ah, but they just don’t understand the intoxicating passion of his seeming fascination for you, it is all just too much to give up! You're just a junkie for his hot, burning love now, and all you can think about is mainlining this scalding new brand of affection!

But be assured, the faster they come in and sweep you off your feet, the faster they are to dump you hard onto your fragile self esteem! It will feel like someone has stuck their fist through your rib cage, yanked your heart out, tossed it onto the pavement and stomped it flatter then a field mouse struck by a monster truck on the side of the road!

You find yourself reeling and spent, all of your energy drained. Looking in the mirror you wonder who is that sad pallid foam green creature with the drawn out features and sunken eyes frothing at the mouth and babbling an endless stream of disbelief to her self.

“What happened…he loved me…he said he loved me…he begged me to be with him…BEGGED ME…I wasn’t even interested in the beginning…it was a lark…a weird fascination… he had to convince me just to go on the first date for crying out loud…why did he do this to me… how could he be so cold…I gave him everything … all of myself…there is nothing left of me…he took it all…and now that I need someone…he… just… leaves…me… nothing… he took it all… why didn’t I listen to myself…why didn’t I listen to any body?” and on, and on, and so on and so forth.

And, yada, yada, yada…

Well whaaaaa! You’ve been had by one of the most despicable of the villain archetypes, you’ve been bitten by the vampires himself, otherwise known as the parasite archetype, who having done his job well, has left you a mere drained husk of the once vibrant being you once were! Count yourself lucky though…you’re alive.

The parasite archetypes come in a seemingly endless assortment; the effect they have on your life is much the same, but they vary in degrees from merely a nuisance to downright deadly!

Coming soon: The Femme Fatal

Work has resumed, back tomorrow...

2006-09-07T15:44:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the well wishes, it takes me a few days to get out of the brain fog when the headaches hit, during which I have a tendency towards word aphasia for an indeterminate period which makes even my babble too obtuse for the written page.
Spooks

P.S. Enjoy the new puppy...

Out due to migranes Back soon...

2006-09-01T13:26:00.000-07:00

TIL THEN, I'LL LEAVE YOU WITH THIS FRIGHTENING IMAGE OF A RASPBERRY BLOWING CHIHUAHUA ...

Fun with Vampires, the ongoing parasite discussion...

2006-08-25T12:30:00.000-07:00

While some energy vampires are overtly predatory like Dracula, others are more or less creatures of opportunity that lay in wait like a deer tick, dormant for a time on a blade of grass until unsuspecting fauna passes close enough to awaken its “bloodlust”; and just like a deer tick you must extricate the whole beast from your being, being especially careful not to break its head off, lest it fester and infect you with its debilitating disease and drain you continually of your precious life force.

It a very good argument that most energy vampires are unaware of the malignancy they spread in others lives, and truly believe all of their yada, yada, yada… even so, there are those predatory masters of the energy sup who know exactly what they’re doing and why.

But lets take a little recess from the heaviness of the energy vampire subject and enjoy the vampires of folklore and myths for a while. Time for to have some fun with this thing and explore vampire archetypes (oh boy!) from ancient vampire folklore to modern literature, cinema and soap operas.

We have been romancing these creatures of the night for a long time now, why is that? We just cant get enough of their stylishly freaky funky stuff, but the vampire is here to stay for a reason, may as well play around with it and maybe figure out what makes them sooo darned fascinating!

Coming soon: From Dracula to the Great Gatsby

Lost in my home town...

2006-08-22T08:53:00.001-07:00

Speaking of head injuries…no? We weren’t?…Oh…where were we then? Uh… oh yes, vampires. Well, not to get off the topic but I’m going to get off the topic for a sec to tell you a true tale of terror that happened to me today, the parasites will have to wait for the next time slot I’m afraid.

Today I went to pick up my husband at the airport, a thing that I have done at least a zillion times in a city I’ve known since I was a baby; it’s about a forty minute drive from my house and I thought I knew where I was going until I found myself terribly lost in familiar surroundings!

I cant really describe the weird horror of looking at landmarks I’d seen at least a thousand times, yet still having no idea how to get to where I was going! I didn’t think it could get more frightening when I realized that not only didn’t I have a cell phone on me, the “You have no damned gas in your tank fool!” icon had just lit up!

I could feel the tears starting to jam in their ducts as I tried to make sense of the stupid waking nightmare I was in, but alas, the “City of San Jose road-map receptors” in my brain had been snapped in the accident and left me no “workable” memory of how to navigate that town anymore!

Then the brain weasels started to go off in my head, they sounded something like this weasel 1: “ Gas, I need gas, where’s a damned gas station for Chris-sake!” weasel 2: “Gas station! Jesus H. Christ, your 45 minutes late already!” Well, if I don’t get gas soon I’ll be a lot later than that dopey!” “Ok, ok, don’t panic, I see your point…you just passed one though!” “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” “Sorry, you could turn around maybe?” “ oh yeah where? I’m in the middle of a five lane thorough fare in lunch time traffic, by the time I can turn around I’ll be in Campbell so I may as well get gas there!” “But isn’t Campbell heading away from the airport, I think your heading back to Santa Cruz!” “ Well it’s to late to snivel about it now, I need GAS!” “Fine!” "Fine!"

I let the weasels go at for a time, while I looked for fuel and fought back the water-works.

Finally after 10 more minutes of stop and go traffic I spotted the most beautiful Shell Gas Station on my right, and as luck would have it I was in the right lane; pulling up, jumping out, sliding bank card, keying pin, gassing up, take a deep breath, asking for directions, get in car, drive away, get back on the freeway, miss the turn off…oh shit not again! Getting off of the freeway, getting back onto the freeway…shit, missed it again!

Then the brain weasels take another go at it –“Ok let’s go through down town, just follow the airport signs, oh look, there’s one that says ‘Airport on-ramp next right’ finally! Oh no…damn-it!” theres another sign that says ‘On ramp closed for repairs’ Jesus, Mary and freaking Joseph!” “They don’t have a detour sign up!” “Don’t panic, look there’s an airport shuttle follow it!” “Oh for cryin’ out loud, it’s just going to the convention center to drop someone off!” “ Look, up in the sky it’s a plane! Follow that freakin’ plane…I think its landing!” “ I sure hope it’s landing and not just lifting off and heading for LA, that’s the wrong direction!” “Oh shut up!“
“Make me!”

Finally I spot the airport terminal sign and surcease from the madness is assuredly mine! Looking for ‘American Airlines Arrivals’ oh good, there it is …I see my poor hubby frying in the sun on the opposite side of the terminal he motions me to pull over. Poor guy, not only has he been frying in the sun waiting for his ride for over an hour, he looks very stressed and concerned, he asks me “ Are you ok?” Then the brackish lets loose of my eyes and I could only shake my head no…

That old saying holds true -" you never miss your water, until your well runs dry" and this was a close encounter, a glimpse of what it must be like in the beginning stages of a disease like Alzheimer or even after a bad stroke, suddenly finding that you can no longer do a task or remember a place that you have taken for granted most of your life is a terrifying thing!

I try not to take anything for granted any more, whether great or small, all of the things we can do are miraculous...

Energy Vampire Attack

2006-08-18T20:23:00.001-07:00

Before and after attack captured with Kirlian Photography.

The Balance of Mind Body And Spirit: Part 3, Spirit

2006-08-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

The spiritual growth development process begins with taking responsibility for clearing our own path:

The vampire
So who were these tick like creatures I’d collected traipsing through the darker footpaths of my life. Perhaps, a better question would be “what were these tick like creatures” and why hadn’t I tweezed their engorged butts out earlier?

The “who and what” is simple ...Vampire's! Yes, vampires, although not the sexy Hollywood version with the blood drenched sharp pointy teeth and black cape skulking through the shadows and striking terror in the hearts of poor ignorant villagers while seducing hapless sex pots when there lovers aren't looking; no, and far from it! These vampires don’t suck the life’s blood from a person, although after an encounter with one you may feel that way.

No, their favorite anytime snack is * bio-electric energy, and if you’ve ever known or been in the presence of someone who left you feeling drained, stressed, confused or just plain “slimed” after every run in, you know who and what I’m talking about. !

Energy vampire also known as PSI vampire phenomena has been scientifically studied and documented using electro-photography, these pictures honestly creeped me out and made the hair on my knuckles stand up!

Remember the ancient idiom “neither cast ye pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet” this is a good one to remember before offering up your valuable time and skills to just anybody, although learning to tell the swine from the refined is not always an easy task, and most people with the best of intentions fall prey at least once in their lifetime to the false lure of the boar in victim’s clothing.

They come in several different guises all with their own red flags or mantras:

The babbler: Never shuts up and won’t let you get a word in edgewise. Mantra: "Wait, wait let me tell you one more thing…"

The whiner: Always miserable about anything, delights in finding negative in everything. Mantra: "But don’t you think?"

The sycophant: Constantly praising you into doing their bidding. Mantra: "You’re sooo good!"

The baby Jane: Needs to be the center of attention. Mantra: "I and me..."
The blamer: Never takes responsibility for anything and deflects blame onto others. Mantra: I didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t."

The guilt tripper: or living martyr: Pack your bags you're going on a guilt trip! Mantra: "If you'd only… Or: You always do these things to me…"

The victim: Terminally in a bad relationship or job, or some stupid drama, or… of whaaa!!! Mantra: Why me?

The thing that wouldn’t go away: Anyone out there old enough to remember John Belushi in the original Saturday Night Live horror parody skit should get a chuckle out of this title; but anyone who's ever lived through the frustration of having one of these help yourself to my life sort of parasites will take it with a grain of pain. Mantra: "So what are we doing later?"

The Time Bandit: Or as Pisces Iscariot master poet of The Far Queue calls them "Time Eaters" which he descibes very succinctly as "The ones that stop by and tell stories in infinite detail about absolutely nothing. By the time you finally get rid of them you have lost hours of your life and are running late."
Ah yes, those awful burblers of babble and brou·ha·ha, spinning incessantly insipid tales of nothingness. The late great designer/photographer/writer **Sir Cecil Beaton probably said it best "Perhaps the world's second worst crime is boredom. The first is being a bore. " Mantra: Blah, blah, blah, blah....

Swimming with sharks is a dangerous sport, and those who do so in real life take precautions, respect their quarry and accept the dangers. In other words they know what they're doing and if they get bitten they're not overly surprised. Engaging vampires can be just as deadly but most don't recognize that their being bled dry until it is too late. Some require a major life change (like myself) to finally spot the red flags just off the shore break indicating “Dangerous Waters! Stay Out!” that were flapping with gusto all along!

Professor Emeritus of psychology Joseph H. Slate PH.D at Athens State University in Alabama and founder of the International Parapsychology Research Foundation has made an extensive study of the human aura, and in so doing came across this phenomenon and has written a terrific book called: “Psychic Vampires: Protection from Energy Predators & Parasites” In which he states: “Psychic vampirism is a widespread yet often unrecognized human energy phenomenon that can interrupt our growth and impede our progress. As already noted, it exists in a variety of forms, each of which subtly consumes its victim’s energy and over the long haul, erodes the energy system itself. Although no known force can totally destroy the human energy system because of its cosmic makeup, psychic vampirism can impair its functions and seriously damage its capacity to energize growth.”

He is not alone in his finding’s there are several unconnected studies that have been conducted on this, and many good books have been written on the subject that I will be happy to recommend later on...

*Bio-electric energy: The electric current generated by living tissue also know as Aura energy, Orgone energy, or “The force” if you’re a Star Wars nut.

**Cecil Beaton on boredom: And he oughta know, having spent the whole of his life helping to create beauty and excitment with the worlds most fabulous people of his day; after all not many people could claim both Greta Garbo and Gary Cooper amongst their lovers...many could say one or the other, but not both.

Coming soon: Archetypical vampires

The Balance of Body Mind and Spirit: Part 2, mind

2006-08-13T13:43:00.000-07:00

Who knows what evil that lurks in hearts of men? The Shadow knows...

We, each and every one of us have a dark or "shadow" part of ourselves that we don’t recognize. Or so Carl Jung believed, and accorded the shadow archetype to this side of our personality that we don’t behold as our own.

The shadow may contain both, negative or undeveloped positive aspects of the personality that it finds generally bad, sinful or just plain embarrassing; and so it denies its existence. It is instinctive in nature and as such is a primitive mechanism that can create personal havoc in a person’s life left if left unacknowledged.

The late psychiatrist R.D Lang wrote:
"The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice.
And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice there is little we can do to change until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds".

Which describes perfectly the knowing unknowing of the denial mechanism innate in us all. It’s this denial of our "dark side" that compels us to project our disgust and dismay of certain traits onto others while failing to recognize the despised traits within ourselves.

I slammed into my shadow shortly after my fall, I had to come to terms not only with the weak and embarrassing things I didn’t like about the world I lived in, but also my complicity in helping to build that world. Yuck!

My Shadow(s)
So there I was having a face off with my own shadow and finding that it wasn’t a scary monster after all, more like an embarrassing in law that you trot out 4 times a year for special occasions; unfortunately that embarrassing in law it just so happened resided within me!

"Ms. Hyde, I presume?"… at last I meet! Hide and seek had been a favorite childhood game of mine and I was good at it too; but to find that I had continued to play the game all these years with myself and that I had just found me was, well, a bit daunting and completely humiliating. On the bright side, I’d found what I was looking for all along, the ability to scrutinize myself at close range without the fear of doing irreparable damage to my psyche. The damage had already been done you see, the Humpty Dumpty that was my mind had been shattered, and loving a good puzzle as I do, I was giddy with the challenge of putting it back together again!

Ah, but then Dr. Frankenstien showed up cackling like a crazed loon from out of one of the many shattered shards of my consciousness crying - "We can rebuild her, make her stronger than before, more powerful than speeding a loco-motive!" "Oh shut up" said yet another personality shard in annoyance. "We have enough to deal with, just getting her cognitive functions up and running again, without your habitual personal improvement systems running all over us!" This one I recognize to be my personal voice of reason, I’d heard her many times, not so much in talking to myself but to others. It seems when she tried to converse with me the sound buffer was turned on full blast or the other personality parts were making to much racket to hear her. She was right though, I did have plenty enough on my buffet plate to digest, and the smorgusborg was just beginning.

So now, fragmented individual that I’d become, and meeting the many conflicts of my personality (some for the first time), I’d come to find them all much to my chagrined amusement to be patterned from old Hollywood horror movie scripts, "Hyde" was only the central cast of several infighting character actors, elbowing for a better position in the forefront my super ego! I had no idea where my ID had gone, but my ego was really starting to get testy.

All that being said, falling off the roof was actually a terrific godsend; it was this single act of clumsiness that, although disabling me in some very real ways, also enabled me to have a life of my own. Sounds extreme I suppose but it took a monumental wollup in the knoggin to crack the hard shell of deniability ensconced as it was around my ego!

I had been a kind of zombie in the world, a stupid slave to my character flaws and bad habits, one of which was saying yes automatically to any favor asked of me by virtually anyone! This had been one very bad habit for a ridiculously long time, most certainly since I was small child. I was one of those first-born kids who thought it was my job to be responsible for everyone’s well being in the family; saying no, let alone feeling comfortable using the word, was not a place I was willing to go; and I doubt that it ever even occurred to me that I could go there.

Ironically I could say no for other people, and I could recognize when another was in danger of being used and abused by a predator or a parasite. I just didn’t seem to be able or willing to do it for myself. Hell, I could be downright ferocious when it came to defending someone else from the same thing I wouldn’t bat an eye at if it were directed towards me!

This is (I think) the key.

I didn’t want anyone else to be in pain, any kind of pain! Being an empath, I can barely distinguish between which pains or discomfort belongs to me, and what pain or discomfort belongs to others, which can really be a pain in the ass! It makes things very fuzzy when you feel another’s unhappiness as acutely as if it where your own.

Needless to say I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to fix everyone on the planet!
Apparently I was absent the day that they passed out the manual on how not to do that.

My Parasites
Now that I was injured and having all sorts of difficulties just understanding what the heck was going on in my world, let alone grieving the recent death of my beloved grandmother who had died two months prior; I also found myself grieving over another loss, one that was even closer to me than my grandma…me. Yeah, me…the me that I’d always relied on to be ultra capable of doing many a splendid and varied thing at the drop of a hat, all at the same time, the consummate juggler and multi task hero was gone, only to be replaced by a dizzy space cadet with a pathetically amusing hand tic!

Most people don’t understand how much everything we do is reliant on good healthy brain function, and I was only just beginning to grasp it myself in my impromptu course on scrambled brains 101 of how true that really was. I now have a deep regard for stroke victims and stupid people. This world is not set up for the cognitively challenged.

I had so much to relearn (writing and not falling down for instance), and it would have been overwhelming for me had I not become too cognitively challenged at the time, to truly comprehend the scope of the mental, physical and psychological changes that were thrust upon me due to my inability to fly.

As it was, I now qualified as a babe in the woods, and was for the most part tossing out bread crumbs to find my way back and whistling in the dark to stave off the fear that was beginning to build in me. I found that I was alone with these challenges, as no one else around seemed to comprehend that I was drowning in confound-nation and as such was so very, very vulnerable. I really did desperately need the help of others now, and this for me was a terrible feeling that I’d effectively spent my entire life avoiding like the plague.

But as much as I needed to rely on the loving help and support of others, I soon had to face the sad truth that this frightening change in me had not inspired many in my circle to come to my aide, and in fact just the opposite was true. Most of the people I had surrounded my self with were terminal takers and not at all in the habit of giving if it wasn’t convenient or as they saw it a “pay back” of some sort. I was now just an expendable cog that had been broken and was clogged up the smoothly working machinery of their parasitic lives; my presence was no longer required and I could see by the annoyed countenance of their faces that I had slipped into the “please just go away if you’re not going to be useful ” zone.

Do you know about cuckoo birds? No, not the charming little pop out of a small wooden house bird figure, coo-cooing the time every hou on the hour that hang in old Swiss clock shops! I’m talking about a certain genus of bird found in many parts of the world. Still not ringing a bell? Well first of all the adult cuckoo birds do not burden themselves with the responsibility of raising their own chicks; instead they prefer to find a host nest on the QT to lay their oversized egg. Once the perfect nest has been carefully chosen and scoped out, these parasitic parents of the avian world work in tandem to distract the newly un-laden host birds into giving up their nest and eggs long enough to lay their egg, while removing one of the proper eggs (very sneaky) and move on with the selfish business of being a cuckoo.

It must be in the genes because the cuckoo chick once hatched will not only eat foster parents out of house and home, but will also ease the other eggs chicks over the edge. All the while these unwitting foster parents are so busy trying to feed the never closing mouth that they failed to realize that they have no chicks of their own.

This had been me, I was always so busy feeding big baby cuckoo bird's with their ever twittering always open beaks that I failed to feed my own.

Taking responsibility for others had been like a second skin to me, but learning to shed that skin like a snake who has out grown his old epidermis and take on the responsibility for taking on responsibilities for things that were not my responsibility, was another animal all together!

Coming soon: Vampires

The balance of body mind and spirit: Part one, body

2006-07-14T09:35:00.000-07:00

This is the story of my traumatic brain injury (TBI) and of the personal ongoing journey into recovery from it. It's telling is an illustration of finding balance between the body, mind and the spirit in order to heal yourself.

It is also the tale of how after looking under every rock for many years, I finally found myself.

Silly me, I was here all along...

Twenty months ago I fell off of a roof that I was attempting to restore to its former leak proof self and was fortunate enough to land headfirst onto the pavement saved by little more than a big fat ponytail and the grace of god!

It’s absolutely true that everything seems to slow down for you in dire spots and this was certainly true for me in my free-fall towards my date with a cement pad!

It still amazes me just how much time slowed though; I am still able to see in my minds eye how the entire dialog and ensuing actions went down. I was headed for the ladder to come down from the roof and I discovered a wee to late that my partner in his haste had run the stiff 30 lb felt about eight inches over the roof on the side the ladder was on; I happened to be wearing brand new and very stiff leather work boots as I stepped on the overhang and went forehead first over the edge heading for a bulls-eye collision with the ragged pavement below!

"Not good" I thought "I’ll either die or end up a drooling, toothless moron if I strike this way!" So then, in the my impromptu dive, I considered bracing myself with my arms outstretched "No good dope, you’ll end up with two broken arms, a busted face and a drool cup for life! " (I’m not making this up, this is how I talk in my head) I’ve seen excessive drooling with brain injury before and it’s not pretty!

"Hmm, better cut your losses then, cause you’re goin’ down hard baby!" That’s when instinct took over, and told me to do a reverse cat twist, which is exactly what I did; mid twist my right foot caught the ladder slowing my momentum down just a tad then "SPLAT!" contact with planet earth, the theory of gravity proven yet again!

So there I lay more pissed off than a wet cat, blood starting to mass in a big sticky pool under my massively rung bell! I looked up and saw through a multiplicity of stars my partner who by now was turning green, as he stood over me aghast at the thought that I might be dying right in front of him!

I tried to sit up but the nausea and dizziness soon made it clear that that particular notion was right out, and that I indeed needed an ambulance! "Call 911" I barked, "tell them I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!"

I lay there seething with anger, I couldn’t stop thinking about how this was going to really screw up my scheduling for the next couple of weeks…oh, if only that were all!

In the emergency room they were busy giving me a less than stylish new hair-do and I heard the nurse say to the doctor "Gee, that’s just pulp! How’re you going to sew that back together?" "I’ve seen worse." was all he said as he busily gathered the pulp on the back of my skull together and stitched it into a nice little rosette.

The resulting hematoma looked as if a soft ball had been shoved partway into my skull, and was very squishy to the touch. I’ll admit to a certain perverse glee in letting people touch it and gauging the ick factor on their face as it yielded like a quaggy little rum soaked sponge cake. Delicious fun!

Luckily for my friends and family this was the only hateful behavior after TBI that I displayed. Many who sustain a traumatic brain injury suffer their loved ones through all kinds of abhorrent behaviors and personality changes. Some people become quite nasty I’ve been told, for instance there is a woman I met online who’s ex husband and "the love of her life" did a complete one eighty in the character department.

They were married right out of high school and had been going steady since their freshman year. He was a gentle, sweet soul who loved his work and his wife and family more than anything, and he was a very well loved man in his community; you see where I’m going with this right? Well after living in connubial bliss for twelve years and five lovely children, he was in a terrible car accident, which nearly took his life.

He sustained a sever head injury and went into a coma for over a month, when he came out of it this sweet guy who everyone adored was a changed man…more devil than man as I hear it. He became abusive both physically and emotionally couldn’t hold a job for more than a few months, started drinking and drugging and blatantly running around with other woman! She finally left him when it became apparent that the man she loved and married was no longer a part of this sorry ass creature’s makeup. Of course he’s been stalking her ever since.

But I digress.

I soon discovered to my consternation that I was dealing with more than just a nasty bump on my head; I found that I had actually sustained a bit more brain damage than I had planned on! (as if I had a choice in the matter) "Damn it, now what do I do?" I wondered on a daily basis. My short-term memory had become ridiculous, I walked around like a drunk from the vertigo and dizziness, and every time I looked up (even just slightly) I fell down!

Oh, and then there was this funny little tick I aquired in my right hand. You know what the hand sign for crazy looks like? Come on you know, the index finger points to the side of your head and goes around and around in a circular motion? Yeah, that one…well I had the terrific fortune of doing that every time I tried to hold a conversation with people. I even did it when I was the phone, it was as if I needed to make this motion in order to spur my thoughts and connect the disjointed dots that were floating around willy nilly in my head.

Now all that was a real pain in the ass, but sleeping after a concussion can prove to be a giant nightmare, and it certainly was for me. In the beginning I was always sleepy, so falling asleep wasn’t a problem, the problem was I woke up several times a night, every night for the first six months, because just the act of rolling over in my slumber made me so dizzy that I would pop up like a yoyo!

But the worst was yet to come, after the first six months of constant yoyo sleeping, came the next seven months of not sleeping at all! Oh yes, there I was, awake…always awake, night after night, and no amount of sleeping aids i.e. Sominex, Ambian etc. could put me to sleep for anything more than an hour.

Do you have any idea how twisted a girl gets after three weeks of watching dvd’s all night let alone seven months of it? Oh yeah, let the hallucinations begin baby!

Getting past traumatic brain injury

So there I was feeling helpless, vulnerable and incapable for the first time in my adult life. Not A comfortable feeling for a person who always prided myself on the ability to multitask anything and everything that was asked of me, while doing my work, household chores and shopping all at the same time!

Now that I was injured however, I found that most of the people who expected favors of me on an ongoing basis were still there with their hands on their hips feet tapping in annoyance, waiting for help with their plumbing, party catering, even diaper care for an elderly parent or sitting in for them in their R&B band etc.

I mean good god, help a girl out here…for Christ’s sake, it stood to reason that it may just be MY turn for a few small favors! But this was a concept apparently that many in my circle seemed to balk at.

What I’d come to realize, was that my overachiever "can do any damn thing but neuro-surgery" personality hadn’t gained me a lot of true friendships, but had instead drawn parasites to my never ending IV drip of "I don’t know how to say NO! to anyone, ever" character flaw.

Apparently I had to learn this lesson the hard way. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have people throughout the years trying to point out this little flaw of mine; subtle hints like "You're to nice" fell upon my deaf ears, and being the thick headed "let me do that for ya" kind of a gal that I was, I continued to try to do these favors for people who had no business asking me for them in the first place, let alone now that my noggin was scrambled!

Needless to say I started to fail miserably at these tasks that used to be simple for me, because I had freaking brain damage now, and let’s face it, my game was off, way the hell off! I had become dyslexic, I couldn’t comprehend written directions; my sense of direction was so whacked that I could count on finding my car by going in the opposite direction that I felt compelled to go!
It took me 2 ½ hours to do a plumbing project that should have taken me 15 minutes, the first email I composed (to my dad) took me two hours to complete two comprehensive sentences; my strength (which had once been compared to "mighty mouse" due to my small stature but comparatively great physical strength) had gone due to *pareses or partial paralysis, I couldn’t even lift a piece of drywall up off the ground 2 inches let alone hump it over to a wall and install it.

Man, I had some serious issues, and here were the freaking vultures still after me to do their stupid ass "favors" for them! You’d think I would have told them to piss off by now, but it wasn’t until some of them actually had the snotty nerve to say to me, (after I had finally started declining to do their petty biddings, citing quite reasonably my new found inability’s) "How long are you going to use that as an excuse?" that I started to snap out of it. These people didn’t give a rat’s ass about me! They literally wanted me for my aptitude! "Well screw that!" I said to myself, "who needs it?"

Soul searching can be a painful task, and it was with a heavy heart that I bared my soul to myself and started to take an honest inventory. I had to take full responsibility for this being "too nice crap" and own the fact that I had let the vampires in. My life had so far been dedicated to feeding human mosquitos which in a way made a pathetic sort of **'Renfield' character.

It's true what the myths say about having to invite the "bloodsuckers" in, in order for them to suck their fill of what you are offering. I’m not saying by any means that a vampire isn’t a nasty or disgusting creature, only that they are really only as strong as their host allows them to be.

I began to realize that my life had been out of balance for far to long, and that it hadn't even really been my own. I had been giving myself away in big meaty chunks and slices(cheaply at that)to anyone who asked;I was a virtual cornucopia of unending graciousness, and it was making me sick!

It was time to make some changes...

* Not unlike the partial paralysis you see in stroke patients.
** Dracula’s caretaker.

Coming next: Learning to love the word no

Haunted ebay!

2006-07-06T22:43:00.000-07:00

So here I sit breathing invisible smoke (see previous article) and growing another beauteous sinus headache, which leaves me with just enough energy to pursue one of my favorite living room sports... perusing ebay for stuff I absolutely don’t need but must have!

I came across some very "interesting" ( see strange and silly) “haunted” items that I wanted to share with you.

I think most people by now have done some stupid impulse buys on ebay, I certainly I have (really), but sometime even I catch myself wondering "now who the hell would buy that?" mind you this is coming from from a person who has undoubtedly and admittedly been on the other end of that telescope.

Here are a few items that had me scratching my cabeza:

While I sit here on my ass, who’s been scrying in my glass?
http://cgi.ebay.com/HAUNTED-DEAD-WITCHS-STERLING-SILVER-SCRYING-MIRROR_W0QQitemZ120004076348QQihZ002QQcategoryZ102514QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

As if dolls weren't creepy enough…
http://cgi.ebay.com/HAUNTED-DOLL-STOP-THE-VOICES-THAT-CONTINUE-TO-WHISPER_W0QQitemZ270004471394QQihZ017QQcategoryZ19270QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

I have a little voodoo doll collection of my own (I love these dang things)!
http://cgi.ebay.com/Haunted-Hand-Made-Voodoo-doll-from-New-Orleans_W0QQitemZ150004475445QQihZ005QQcategoryZ88433QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

Thank you, no, I’m trying to quit…
http://cgi.ebay.com/OOAK-HAUNTED-MURDER-WEAPON-KILLED-A-MAN-SHIV-SHANK_W0QQitemZ130003025363QQihZ003QQcategoryZ1469QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

Every child’s nightmare!
http://cgi.ebay.com/HAUNTED-Ventriloquist-Clown-Doll-EYES-FOLLOW-YOU-OOAK_W0QQitemZ120003671782QQihZ002QQcategoryZ910QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

This is my absolute favorite! My husband can barely keep me from breaking into the old pay pal account for this tasty little item!
http://cgi.ebay.com/HAUNTED-VOODOO-WITCH-MUMMIFIED-HAND_W0QQitemZ130002977059QQihZ003QQcategoryZ1469QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
What can I say, I still want my mummy...

But, buyer beware! Some of the "Haunted" items you'll find on ebay especially the jewelry have doctored "orb" or "ecto" pictures! Shocking I know, but there are some thieving con-artist bastards out there taking advantage of poor gullible s.o.b.'s who are more into the fantasy of purchasing a ghost (as if) than going out and doing some old fashioned paranormal investigative gum shoe work! Silly sods...

Oh, and one more thing, if you had a fairy that could grant you any wish and they were unlimited would you really be selling it? Duh...
http://cgi.ebay.com/Haunted-Gypsy-Witch-Jewelry-FAIRY-FAERIE-WISH-RING-FAE_W0QQitemZ110004436171QQihZ001QQcategoryZ102514QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

Find Real Products to Sell on eBay!