Hmmm....

WARNING! I'm about to be very blasphemous. People who believe strongly in a strict religion that says absolutely no magic except for the power of (insert Deity here) may wish to avert their eyes. Don't bother yelling at me about my soul burning in (insert awful, feared place of punishment here) because I will make fun of you. For the rest of you, perhaps this will give you something to think about or, at the very least, be mildly amused by.

I have a strong hunch that I am being followed by fairy folk of some kind. Yes, I'm quite serious. Piskies or Brownies, perhaps; something small and mischievous. I'll have to do more research, and then I'll get back to you. Up to this point I've always blamed it on ghosts, but.....well, for those of you who don't know me, perhaps I should fill in a bit of back story.

I grew up in a haunted house. Not as haunted as some, but definitely more haunted than most. I know for a fact there were at least two ghosts there to begin with, and eventually three when the family dog died. There was one that stirred the curtain over my door (before the house was finished being remodeled) and then whispered next to my window, and occasionally shoved stuff around in the attic (don't tell me it was an animal. There are no raccoons where I grew up and there's no way a squirrel could drag something heavy enough across the attic floor to make my light fixture swing back and forth from the vibrations), switched lights on and off (especially in the hamster cage and fish tank) and occasionally moved my toys around when I was sleeping. That one was noisy and a little creepy when I was sleeping my myself, but I knew it wasn't a threatening spirit so I wasn't too scared.

The other one was NOT nice, and liked to hang out in my brother's closet, probably because the back end of it was a crawlspace that led to my parents' room. You know how, if you're standing at the top of a flight of stairs and you try to jump, your body instinctively will make it very, very hard for you to make that leap? That's what it was like to try and walk into my brother's room with the light off. In the hall you were fine, even standing just outside with one foot across the entrance (though at this point your hair would standing on end). However, that line of darkness was like a solid wall, and it honestly felt that if you crossed that line there was something just to the left, watching with a nasty smile and waiting for you to ignore the instincts that were screaming BAD! VERY VERY BAD TURN ON THE LIGHT TURN ON THE LIGHT TURN-- and by that point I, even in my bravest moments, had no choice but to scramble back into the safety of the hallway or fumble for the light switch, chasing the menace back into the darkness of the crawlspace. It would be easy to say that this fear was the product of a nine-year-old girl's imagination, but that wouldn't explain why my mother and stepfather refused to go in the room with the light off either, or the dog for that matter. My three-year-old brother was terrified to sleep in his room; he would wake up crying in the middle of the night and either come to me whimpering "it was the burglar all covered in cloths, I woke up and he was leaning over me and his hands were all covered in cloths" and I would tell him stories about the good ghost watching over him as I tucked him back into bed (Don't worry, Jason ((made up name)) won't let anything happen to you. He's a good friend of mine), or he would go to my parents where my stepfather would spank him soundly and send him crying back to his room alone. Well, that latter cycle only happened for a little while, until the whole house was woken by the thunderous clamor of my brother's solid iron book case jumping away from the wall and somehow flipping in mid-air to land shelf-side up in the middle of the room. My stepfather had to have another full grown man help him move that thing when it was EMPTY; now it was full of books, which had exploded all over the room when the shelf fell. Luckily my stepfather already believed in ghosts, so from that point on he believed my brother when he was scared by the "burglar" and there weren't any more spankings, though he did still make him go back to sleep in his own bed.

When I was twelve, the family dog chewed open a tumor on her leg and, since she was getting up there in years, mom decided to have her put down. I was so mad that, when mom and my brother were giving her treats and love before taking her to the vet, I didn't move from the couch and refused to say goodbye. I felt horrible, of course, and cried myself to sleep that night...I woke up around one in the morning and went downstairs to use the restroom, and when I came back the dog was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I knelt by her and wrapped my arms around her and said I was so sorry, I loved her and I would miss her so much but I hoped she wasn't in pain anymore, and she licked my cheek and sort of just...faded, and I went back to bed. Could it have been a dream? Absolutely, but from that night forward we could still hear her footsteps as she made her rounds in the hall late at night, just like she did when she was alive, still watching over us.

Later, when my mom finally divorced the stepfather and we moved out (planning to come back later for our stuff...we just wanted to get out NOW), the stepfather claimed that one day my stuffed animals came flying down the stairs at him, and that another day something pushed him from the top of the stairs. He was so convinced that, once we got our stuff out, he completely boarded off the upper floor and put his bed in the living room so the ghosts upstairs wouldn't bother him anymore. (I really don't think that some wooden boards would stop ghosts from coming downstairs; I think it much more likely that once they expressed their displeasure with him for chasing us out, they lost interest)

So, there you have it. I've always believed in ghosts, and I've never had any reason not to. However, even after I moved out on my own strange things kept on happening to me. I'd always sort of assumed that I was more sensitive to spirits, but that doesn't explain why I still experience these things in a new apartment building, in which no one has died? With no other explanation, I've always assumed it was because I brought a mirror from the old house with me (spirits can travel in mirrors, according to some sources) but even to myself that sounded like I was stretching it. Now, let's take a second to review the signs of a haunting vs. fairy mischief.

A ghost haunting can be characterized by unexplained noises, doors and cabinets opening and closing, lights turning on and off, items disappearing and reappearing, unexplained shadows, strange animal behavior and feelings of being watched.

The presence of a fairy can be known by random smells of fruits or flowers, seeing things out the corner of your eye, objects disappearing and showing up again in odd places, or feelings of being watched or touched.

Laid out side by side, the two seem to have a lot of similarities. Logically though (and I'm aware how weird it sounds to use the word "logically" when talking about these things) it makes more sense to me that it would be fairy folk following me around. First off, why would a ghost follow me? Because I accidentally brought a mirror from the old house? Eh, that's stretching it. Besides, my cats don't act weird when I see things, though my bird sometimes makes strange kissing noises when she thinks I'm not looking. Why would a fairy follow me? Well, if it's true that the Fae feed off of emotions, dreams and inspiration, they would have a constant source of fodder by following me around. Secondly, I occasionally experience these things at work. They're a lot less common than they are at home, but they happen. I can think of absolutely no reason whatsoever that a ghost, bound to a mirror in my apartment, would follow me to work. I do still daydream at work, though, and while driving, which might give a stubborn fairy enough reason to follow me now and again if they're really hungry, even though my office sits directly in the middle of a yard with over a thousand cars and trucks. Just often enough that, once or twice a month, the smell of exhaust and gasoline will be replaced with the scent of lilacs or watermelon for just a few seconds, or I'll feel the hair next to my ear stir even though there's no breeze in the office.

Now here's the interesting part. I came to this conclusion on Friday, three days ago, and sent a text to the girl I grew up with, who has experienced at least half of the things I have. "Hey," I joked, "What if it's been fairies all this time instead of ghosts?" She replied that the thought made her brain happy, and that she'd been tasting roses in her water lately.

It was like I'd opened a door by admitting that fairies might not only exist, but might be following me around.

An hour after I sent that text, I saw something scoot behind my chair and into the kitchen; about the size of a small rabbit. I chalked it up to sitting at the computer too long and ignored it. Later, I kept getting the compulsion to look around behind me, though I wasn't sure what I was looking for and didn't feel particularly creeped out. It was just an urge.

Saturday, first thing in the morning when I woke up, I saw something black the size of a large spider on the wall next to my bed. I looked at it with alarm (I'm terrified of spiders) and it disappeared. Later that day while I was driving, I suddenly had the smell and flavor of apples so strong in my head that I could almost feel the juice running down my throat, as though I'd bitten into a perfectly ripe Honeycrisp. It was so dominating that for a moment my vision went fuzzy, and when the sensation disappeared a few seconds later I was left with a craving for apples so strong that my throat ached. I broke down and got some on my way home, but the result was disappointing; in comparison to my phantom apple, the Fuji was dry, hard, slightly sour, bland with flavorless juice. It's not so much that the apples are out of season; it feels more like I was longing for fairy fruit, bursting with juice and flavor and strong enough to intoxicate you with one bite, but all we have available are the tired, over-inbred fruits that America grows because we prize size over flavor and quality.
 
Anyway. Later that day, the dryer ball that I've been missing for two weeks (It disappeared out of the dryer one day, just...randomly disappeared) showed up....in the sleeve of one of my boyfriend's shirts. It might be easy to say that it just rolled inside the shirt while bouncing around in the dryer, but when I hang up his shirts I shake them violently to get the wrinkles out. If the ball had been in the sleeve at that time, it would have swung around and whacked me in the face, or at the very least made the sleeve dangle funny. "I knew it! The fairies took it!" I declared when the boyfriend showed me the ball lodged in the cuff of his sleeve, and he gave me the indulgent smile he always does when I talk about things he doesn't believe in, such as ghosts and fairies and being kind to strangers for no reason. (Ha, that last one was a joke.....mostly) I didn't notice anything else that day, but I WAS cooking...I get very one-dimensional when I cook. I swear, I get tunnel vision. Probably because I keep setting things on fire.
 
Then Sunday came around. I was seeing little black things All Day Long. Seriously. We're talking seven or eight separate little black shadows scooting around at the edge of my vision. On the wall. Darting under the fridge. Swinging from the bottom of my wall scroll. After the fifth time or so, I resisted the urge to look immediately at the spot moving across the floor...with my peripheral vision I watched it crawl about two feet, then worried that it might be a real spider this time and looked, but of course there was nothing there. And my cat was being SO INSISTENT!! She refused to leave my lap, and when I got up to do something she followed on my heels, meowing at me until I sat down again, and then immediately she was on me again, curled up to my stomach. Don't get me wrong, Kiki loves attention but she's not normally that pushy. Even Whiskey was being strangely affectionate, pushing against my hand when I pet him (He usually shies away in that ick-don't-touch-me way when I try to pet him, unless I've just fed him or cleaned the litterbox) and, later in the evening, he was laying on top of my legs taking up the little bit of space that Kiki didn't.
 
It makes me wonder. A few months ago, I was waking up every other night to find...something next to my bed that would disappear a few seconds later. Once it was a huge, grinning mouth the size of a small dog (I woke up as it moved across the room to hover next to my shoulder), Once it was a big, red grub-shaped shadow hovering over the boyfriend's side of the bed (I woke up because I heard a noise on his side of the room) and, the most alarming one, I woke up from a buzzing noise to find about five black, barrel-shaped things, each the size of a large watermelon, zipping around above my head like flies. Those ones stuck around long enough for me to say "Get the F*** away from me!" and thrash my arms around to disperse the crowd; they disappeared after about seven seconds, long enough for me to know I was definitely awake. I was getting worried so I called my mom to ask her if she's ever had ghosts do that to her...she seemed to think they were just the result of an over-stressed mind and told me to pray if I was really worried. To be honest (religious people look aside), the God I believe in doesn't take much interest in what we do, so I didn't bother...what I did do was close the light-blocking curtains more tightly so there was less light in my room at night, and suddenly the apparitions stopped bothering me. Now, I know I was not dreaming. I am a lucid dreamer, I know what REMS feel like, and I was definitely awake. I don't think ghosts would be deterred by the window being blocked off, especially if they were already in the apartment. Fairies? I know they can go through glass, but can they pass through a heavy curtain with no gaps? Isn't that kind of like a "Do not Pass" sign? Perhaps Fairies can only come if invited or left an open pane to go through?

Which brings me to the question; if there ARE fairies following me around, how did I attract them to the apartment in the first place? Was it the constant song and stream of creative consciousness? Was it the little dishes of candy and sugared peanuts laying around the house? Was it the tomato plant hanging from my balcony in defiance of living on the second of floor in a place where there was no space for gardening? Or have they been following me all my life and my eyes are only just now starting to open? Does it explain the constant oddities in my life, such as being unable to open a jar, then coming back to it ten minutes later to have it pop open easily? The invisible fingers tugging through my hair when I'm alone? When I'm struck by creative inspiration so strong that I can't hold still or concentrate until I draw or write something, is that the fairies telling me that they're hungry?
 
Well, it's something to think about. At the very least, it gives me an excuse to write in this sadly neglected blog. Until next time, darlings, stay curious.

 

A letter to my favorite fairy

Well, ladies and gents, once again something has appeared that I feel is worth writing about. What is this mighty event, you might ask? Why, a contest. Not just any contest; a contest in which one writes a letter to one's favorite character in the Iron Fey series by Julie Kagawa. More details here; www.juliekagawa.blogspot.com . Before I begin, I'm supposed to tell you why I decided to write to Puck. Well, my dears, a harder question would be; "Why WOULDN'T you write to Puck?" First off, I think he's awesome. I love me a being with a sense of humor above pretty much all else, and the fact that he's a faery doesn't hurt. At all. Secondly, I contemplated (for about five seconds) writing to either Ash or Megan, but I know I wouldn't have anything nice to say to either of them. Ash is stuck-up and brooding, even if he is gorgeous, and he wouldn't know a joke if it slapped him in the face. Meghan....oh Meghan. Did no one ever tell you that boyfriends are temporary, but best friends are forever? The only other character I would consider writing to would be Iron Horse, but.....well, I don't think he would write back, to be honest. So here it goes, hope you enjoy!

       Dear Puck,
I adore you. I have for half of my life, in fact, since I was twelve and I first started reading stories of your adventures. How fantastic, I thought, would it be to have that kind of imagination? The freedom to constantly tease and fool the people around you? And best of all, the ability to change your form to whatever shape you desired and create doppelgangers to distract your enemies...for a while there, I was bitterly jealous. Yeah, I can admit it, I'm nothing if not honest with myself. As I grew older, however, I realized that my adoration was turning into infatuation...I was mortified! How could I fall in love with a being I'd never met? There was never any doubt in my mind that you exist, Puck, but neither could I fool myself into believing that we would meet some day. I spent a few years pining after you, dear Mr. Goodfellow....staying up entirely too late to read your stories, then doing clumbsy sketches of what I thought you might look like as I struggled to stay awake at work. There were times when my longing to meet you grew so strong that a sweet ache suffused my chest and tears rose to my eyes, as though I were suffocating on my helplessness...I felt that if I could see you just once, just know what you look like and see that mischievous smile cross your lips, I could be in peace.
     However! Eventually, I came to my senses. Evie, I told myself, you will NEVER meet Puck, and even if you did, his heart belongs to someone else. So I locked away my longing and used all that energy to do something productive; I created the Mischief Maker's club in tribute to you! On Tuesday nights we gather to brainstorm pranks, jokes and tomfoolery, and exchange ideas. We keep notes on what we've done, how successful the trickery was, and how much effort it took versus payoff. Then, on Wednesday (the longest day of the week, made much shorter by laughter), we carry out our plans. We're careful never to harm anyone, and kids and the elderly are off-limits. April Fools is, of course, the epitome of our efforts. Last year was my pride and joy! It started out simply enough; I found a co-worker who uses the hunt-and-peck method of typing (you know the sort...only uses index fingers, eyes glued to keyboard, searching out each letter one at a time...) and, once he'd left his desk, I quickly switched the letters on his keyboard. Nothing huge, just moved the vowels around and replaced them with consonants. I then got to watch as he grimly told our supervisor "Jim, my keyboard is broken. My A's are typing Q's." I got a good laugh out of that, but  I had no idea what I'd started...once he got his keyboard fixed, he was convinced that one of the salesmen did it, so he smeared grease in the earpiece of that guy's phone. In return, salesman 1 was SURE that salesman 2 did it, and retaliated by putting salesman 2's phone on mute so he didn't get a phone call all day...and in turn, he was sure that shipping and receiving had done it and sent about fifteen false orders back to be fulfilled. I was amazed by how such a simple thing started a chain reaction of pranks, and I was highly encouraged.
     Which brings me to the point of this letter! I know better than to ask for you to pay a visit to your fan club, you're a busy guy and I know you've got a lot on your plate. Besides, I've given up hoping that we'll ever meet, and I'm satisfied just running this organization in your name. But perhaps a letter of inspiration? Please tell us, what was your favorite bit of mischief that you've carried out thus far? Do you have any ideas for non-magical diversions? We're good at carrying out our tricks, but not so good at the distracting thing...we usually have to wait for the victim to leave the room. The best way to avoid getting pranked in turn? Mind you, I'm okay with getting a taste of my own medicine if I deserve it, but the last time someone stapled all my paperwork together in retaliation and hid my staple puller I was wishing it hadn't been quite so easy to trace it back to me. And finally....I know this may be a lot to ask, but I must try; what was your most embarrassing moment? Or, if you're not comfortable with that one, what was Meghan's?
     From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading this! I know it got a bit on the long-winded side, but once I finally decided to write you after all these years I discovered that there was just so much I wanted to say. I know not to get my hopes up, but a reply from you would make us at Mischief Makers so happy... Even if you don't have time, though, please keep up the good work! Make sure a mortal sees you now and again so I have some fresh stories to read. And keep your chin up; one day, Meghan will realize that life gets depressing with a man who doesn't know how to smile. Until snow turns to flowers and fish grow on trees, I remain, now and always, your biggest fan.     ~Love, Evie
    

I had a dream....

So, I think we're discovering that the whole post-several-times-a-week thing isn't working out so well. I had thought this would be a good way to motivate me to write more, but unfortunately all I'm doing is feeling guilty for not posting more often. But, I have to be fair to myself, too. I'm not using this blog to promote a business or a product. I'm not a single mom who can stay home and spend the day watching a child and doing crafts or spend hours cooking fantastic foods. I'm a young woman in her twenties working overtime at a job that involves staring at a computer all day, struggling to make ends meet and get all the chores done and cook enough food so we don't starve and then using what little time I have left to relax a little. So I'm going to give me a break and make a new promise; I will write when I think I have something worth writing. I'm pretty sure no one's listening anyway, but if I'm wrong - hey, good on you! Thanks for coming. :)

Anyway, the main subject of today's post will be the dream I had last night. It was one of those fantastical awesome dreams that, if I had the ability and motivation, could make an awesome comic or full-on story or fantasy movie, but since I don't...well, I'll put the stuff I remember down here for now. The first half will have more details than the end since I had to wake up my guy in the middle, but I'll try to make it run as smooth as I can. And I may or may not add some details that weren't actually there, just for storytelling entertainment. Anyway, here it goes.

My friend and I stood in a forest, staring up at a tree. We had been wandering through the woods for hours now, sort of lost but not really willing to admit it while it was still daylight and we were having fun. This particular tree had caught our attention; it had purple leaves like certain cherry trees, but it was HUGE. Like, we tried to touch hands around the base of the trunk and we couldn't. So we decided to just chill for a moment and bask in its glory. "That's an awesome tree." I said, my voice a little strained from having my head cranked back so far. "Yeah," my friend agreed. "I would have loved to climb that tree when I was younger." I added wistfully. My friend lowered her head to look at me. "So why don't you?" I looked at her, puzzled. "What, now?" She shook her head. "No, I meant in forty years when you really can't move. Yes, now. Why not?" I looked back at the tree, desire warring with the caution born of adulthood. There were sturdy branches within grabbing distance, and they studded the tree at three-foot intervals almost like a natural ladder. It should be remarkably easy. "I don't know...what about you? I don't want you to get bored while I'm up in a tree and wander off." "I'll climb it too. I'll even go first. Let's go!" Without leaving time for any more argument, my friend grabbed the lowest branch and swung herself up, quickly starting to scale branches the width of most medium-sized birch trees. I finally gave in and followed. There was a brief struggle as my office-softened muscles struggled to get my legs over the first branch, but from there it was all smooth sailing. The bark was strangely smooth, and it wasn't long before I was wishing that I'd left my shoes on the ground. "Hey....wait up." I gasped to my friend, who was already about ten feet above me. I put on a burst of speed -  and then my shoe slipped. I only had time for a gasp before my weight yanked my hands from the slippery bark and I plummeted toward the ground, branches whipping me but doing little to slow my descent. I heard my friend scream my name and screwed my eyes shut, trying to relax so that maybe every bone in my body wouldn't be broken when I hit the ground--

With a fwump and a crackling noise, I hit a huge pile of leaves. The impact still knocked the breath out of me, but it hurt less than expected. Sucking in a forced breath, I carefully rolled over and out of the pile to test my limbs. "I'm okay," I yelled shakily, then listened for my friend's frantic reply. Except nothing came. Gently rolling my neck to test it, I then carefully looked up at the branches. I couldn't see her up there! Where the hell did she go? Did I pass out and she left for help? Taking a moment to slow my breath, I took a look around. My confusion grew. Was there a stream there before? I didn't remember the ground being this grassy. And the grass was strange, paler than grass was supposed to be and short, almost like a shaggy carpet. And I was hot. Like, way too hot for November. I looked up at the sky and realized it was a hot shade of electric blue, with only a few wisps of cloud, though I distinctly remembered the sky being overcast when we left the house. That's why I wore jeans and a hoodie and a down jacket when we left the house. I quickly decided that needed to change and stripped off my jacket, unzipping my hoodie and lowering my hood as I got to my feet. I turned in a circle, then gravitated toward the stream as I heard a plop. Coming closer, I saw a frog the size of an orange hop from one rock to another. Moving quickly I caught it gently in my hands, then peered closer. It had looked like a frog, but it hardly had any legs. It was slippery and brown, and had almost what looked like....short, rounded rabbit ears on the top of its head. As I stared, the bunny-toad hiccuped, then puked all over my hands. And it reeked worse than anything I'd ever smelled coming from a living creature. I carefully placed the revolting animal back in the stream, where it slid under the water and away, and started frantically scrubbing the foul slime from my hands in the stream. I froze as I heard a giggle. "You must be new," Came a playful female voice. I looked up and stared. Crouching across the stream was a girl; but she had to be wearing some sort of costume. For one thing, her hair was long, wavy and a rich shade of royal blue. For another, her skin was shiny and iridescent black, as though every inch of her, including her eyelids and the inside of her lips, were covered in latex. Only her eyes looked halfway normal, the irises a light, clear blue that reminded me of a washed-out sapphire. She smiled and I realized I was still staring. I blushed, averting my eyes. "Sorry....um, where exactly is this?" The girl stood, lightly hopping across the stream to stand next to me. "Well human, since we've seen your kind here before, I already know exactly what your questions are. Care to walk with me while I explain?" Since I didn't really foresee my friend coming back any time soon, I agreed and we set off through the strange forest. "What you did, my dear, is stumble across a doorway from your world to ours. There are only a handful, so you must be very lucky." She chuckled lightheartedly. "But then again, unless you have a key the only way to get through the doorway is to fall through it, which means you must have fallen out of the tree and that makes you rather unlucky, I think." I couldn't remain silent any longer and blurted out "But what about my friend? Have you seen another girl like me come through here?" The girl shook her head. "I'm afraid it was only you that came through. Your friend is still in your own world. Don't worry, you'll be able to go home before it gets dark! But while you're here, why don't I show you around?"

((The dream gets a little fuzzy at this point since this is where I woke up and fell back asleep, but here's the gist; sorry it gets a little vague.))

I agreed to go around with her, she brought me to her village next to an ocean and introduced me to her people; all with shiny black skin and various rainbow-hues of hair, and all very friendly and kind, offering to let me stay at their own huts if I wished. I did see a few people that were definitely human; she explained that those ones decided they liked this world and wanted to stay. Once away from the village, my new friend gave me a necklace with a stone; a key to her world. She told me that I could visit whenever I wished, but that if I stayed in her world past a certain time of the day or ate any of their food, I would be stuck there forever. With that warning in mind, I went back to the tree. With the stone around my neck, I merely had to touch the trunk and I was immediately brought back to my own world. My friend was still nowhere in sight, the sky was getting dark and threatening rain and I had forgotten my jacket in the other place, so I followed the sounds of the highway and quickly made my way back home. Once there I called my friend, who was absolutely frantic. She said I was falling and had simply disappeared, but when she went for help the cops wouldn't believe her and refused to send a search party for twenty-four hours. I reassured her that I was all right and went to bed.

((Again with even more vagueness, and a little bit of time-skipping))

Time went by and I went back to visit every week or so, gradually being accepted as a friend to the village and shown their secrets as they learned I wouldn't betray their location to outsiders. I learned that they had a forest of eternal day, where the trees bloomed with flowers year-round that would fall off, then catch the breeze and float all over the land, burning a golden yellow with some inside luminescence. The villagers made use of these natural lamps often while exploring, for they could last for two weeks before their light died. I also discovered their water-bikes. Basically they took a long, flat piece of plastic-like material, the front tip pointed and curved like a ski. The plank ran flat for a couple feet, then curved up and forward toward the tip to make a rounded seat, then curved up again and split into two for handles. I couldn't figure out how the thin craft stayed afloat, but watched as my new friend ran along a dock, then leapt off and straddled the contraption in mid-air. As it hit the water, it bounced slightly and then shooshed across the water's surface, flying across the waves like a skier cutting through fresh snow. To turn, the rider simply leaned their body and the craft would curve in that direction. Once she returned, she explained that one made the craft go with willpower, but that if I was afraid it would sink like a stone. After a few tries in shallower water I finally got the hang of it. After a few years of visits and waterbiking in this land of eternal summer, I was flying across the waves with the best of them. They had even given me a dress to wear when I visited so I could leave my cold-weather clothes behind, and there was no need for shoes so everyone walked barefoot on the soft, pale grass. The sensation of gliding across the water, trailing my bare toes in the cool ocean, was almost like flying. I began to miss my own planet less and less, but returned dutifully each time for the sake of my loved ones, who still didn't know about my visits.

That's just about where I woke up....like I said, I would like to turn it into a story of some kind but I have a major flaw; I have no villain and no dilemma. You can't have a good story without a villain or, at the very least, a dilemma of some sort. Maybe someday I'll come up with something. Any ideas?

A little introspection

I won't even try to make excuses for my lax posting habits....but I will say that I've been doing a lot of soul searching, which has distracted me from some of the other things in my life. After doing some research, I believe that I have Schizoid Personality Disorder, or SPD. What is SPD, you might ask? Well, here are the symptoms in a nutshell;

1. unsociability, quietness, reservedness, seriousness, and eccentricity
2. timidity, shyness with feelings, sensitivity, nervousness, excitability, and fondness of nature and books
3. pliability, kindliness, honesty, indifference, silence, and cold emotional attitudes.
4. neither desires nor enjoys close relationships, including being part of a family
5. almost always chooses solitary activities
6. has little, if any, interest in having sexual experiences with another person
7. takes pleasure in few, if any, activities
8. lacks close friends or confidants other than first-degree relatives
9. appears indifferent to the praise or criticism of others
10. shows emotional coldness, detachment, or flattened affect

Does this sound like me? It doesn't just sound like me. When I read this article for the first time, I had a weird, vertigous feeling that they were writing ABOUT me. I fit this description to a T. How do I feel about it? I feel a strange mixture of sadness and relief. Relief because I realize now that I'm not a coldhearted bitch, I'm not the only person who feels like this, I'm not going crazy, there's actually a name for the way I am. Sadness because.....I'm not sure how to fix it.

My mom doesn't think it's something that needs to be fixed...she says it's the way I am, that it's my personality and I shouldn't have to change it. But I know I'm not happy this way. At the same time that I disdain the company of normal people, there's also an intense longing for close friendship, to share my thoughts and ideas with someone who cares.

It all makes sense now! Why is it taking me so long to heal from the pain of being abandoned, outgrown, left behind by G? Because she grew up with me, she felt like she was a part of me, an extension of my being...and then we were apart for a while...and when we joined again, I was horrifically disappointed to realize that G had died and in her place was a shallow, hypocritical, normal person with no cares for where her stupid decisions are going to land her. She left me to be a carbon copy of the juvenile delinquents she calls her friends, she willingly chose alcohol and drugs and who had sex with who over deep conversations and sharing a soul with someone who understands you, someone who loves you with every inch of her being....no wonder I'm so hurt and angry. She's still there physically, but the person you loved desperately was murdered and kicked about of her mortal shell by the very sort of people that you can't stand. She was a part of my inner world and she left without so much as a backward glance. Of course I feel betrayed.

 Some people describe heartbreak as a wound that eventually heals with time. I still feel the pain of every single heart break I've ever had! My first serious boyfriend in highschool, my stepfather telling me that my dad is a piece of shit who didn't want me (lying bastard), my godfather dying, every single rejection when I try for something I love....It doesn't fade or heal with time. I don't get cuts and bruises, I lose fingers and toes. When G left, she took my right arm with her and, no matter how many phantom pains I get or how badly I want it back, it's still going to be gone. My heart is an amputee! There is an empty place inside of me with raw, infected edges that will never heal because the flesh is gone. The very best I can hope for is that skin will eventually grow over the abraded edges and someday it won't hurt to touch that hollow place.

No wonder I have such a hard time opening up to someone. I don't know if you've ever heard of aversion training; if a rabbit experiences pain through electric shock every time it tries to eat, eventually it will come to associate food with pain and will starve to death rather than willingly go through that pain. That is how I feel. Every time I opened my heart to someone outside of family, they left me with another gaping hole in my being. Why should I keep putting myself through this pain? Being numb is better than losing more of myself. 

I cannot sustain shallow friendships. I don't see the point of dealing with people if you don't have a deep connection with them, but there is a wall preventing me from touching someone. I've wanted to, and I've tried. But I get to a certain point in the friendship, usually right before saying "Hey, you want to hang out sometime?" And then the window slams shut. I can pound on the glass all I want, but I cannot get through to people. I'm tired of trying. I would rather be by myself and do my own things and just never leave the apartment instead of wasting all that energy on people who will never understand me. My kindness feels like a facade, a polite shell to keep people from hating me outright. At least now I understand why compliments leave me feeling numb but criticism fills me with righteous anger. Positive things? That counts as intimacy, shunt that aside. You think I'm a bad influence? That's a personal attack from someone I let close enough to talk to me. Screw you. What makes you think you have the right to judge me? You, who introduced your own children to pot and alcohol? Fuck off, I never asked for your opinion. Leave me alone.

Today at work as I was getting ready to leave, someone tried to hand me something and I said, without thinking "I'm not here. Well, I am here physically, but mentally I'm somewhere else. Like always." Which is true. I didn't realize how true it was until I said it. I have a world inside me that is safe, where I have a ton of friends who love me for who I am and will never judge me. I have been creating these friends since I was ten and they are still there. They've always been there and I know they will never leave me until I'm ready. Can you blame me? Isn't that the sort of friendship everyone craves? I was worried for the longest time that I'm crazy, but I think I'm just creative. I don't understand why people would put up with shallow, insecure, backstabbing people when they can create their own friends to keep them company, to whisper secrets to when no one else is around, to understand why you're hurting and that you just need someone to love you unconditionally. Even your child will eventually say "I hate you!" or the equivalent, will grow up and outgrow you and move away and only occasionally call. I don't want that kind of pain. I feel no drive to bring another person into this selfish world. I've always been that way and, unless I seek therapy, I think I always will be.

At least now I understand why 9/11 didn't shake me, but I can bawl over a tragic romance novel. Why I really didn't feel moved when the Chilean miners finally got out, but I feel a desperate need to know what's going to happen to my favorite book characters. The real world....doesn't feel real to me. It's like watching something through binoculars and choosing how to react from a list of options. I literally feel like I live inside myself as though it were a house, looking out through my window-eyes. I don't want to walk out that door; I have everything I need in here and outside there is broken glass, rabid dogs, rapists, serial killers, radiation, poison smog. Why would anyone want to go out there and interact with the other crazies on the streets? Why do people feel the need to be in a flock? The last time I was in a group of people I started getting short of breath. It's almost like claustrophobia, if claustrophobia was created by the sound of too many people talking at once instead of being shut in a dark box. Actually, the dark box sounds rather nice in comparison.

Many times I've felt that if I had no one depending on me, no one who loves me, I could lock myself away in my fantasy world with my pets (Dear, sweet animals...they give you unconditional love and only ask for care in return), my games and books and I would be perfectly happy until the end of time. People disappoint and disgust me and I want nothing to do with them. I don't care what they do. I don't care who the president of the united states is or if we have to pay a liquor tax or if the Chinese take over. If I can be by myself and entertain myself, that is the definition of peace in my mind.

I love my guy very much. We've been together for seven years and I feel closer to him than I do any other non-relative in this world...but sometimes I wonder...if I've truly opened my heart to him. How can you tell? Criticism from him stings, if that's any indication, yet sometimes I find myself analyzing him the same way I do everyone else. Sometimes I'll look at him and I feel my heart swell a little, but I ask myself if, out of fear, I instinctively throw up my walls. Am I afraid of intimacy? That could be. That could explain why, after seven years, I still feel no urge to get married and have babies. It could explain why I have one friend left and I still find it hard to open up to her.

I don't know if I can fix this....I don't know if it's something I can fix. We all have our demons and perhaps this is mine...to both abhor and crave human interaction, to say "Let me tell you my secrets" and "Get the fuck away from me" in the same breath, to have a desire to both share my inspiration with people and keep it to myself, looking down on people and counting their drawbacks.

At least now I know I'm not depressed.....just lonely. Now what am I going to do about it?

Homecoming!

I have returned! And yes, my vacation was very relaxing, thank you for asking. It may not have been sandy beaches and fruit cocktails, but at least it was sunny the whole week I was there and I got to see friends and family. Can anyone really ask more than that? Not without feeling rather greedy, I say.

 

So, the last week has been pretty much just getting in the groove of things. I haven't gotten used to my bed again yet so I've been pretty restless, and it's felt like a week of Mondays but it's almost over. And then we have a three-day weekend! Yay Labor day! I'm still undecided whether I should drive to Eastern Washington to visit a friend or stay at home and rest some more and get caught up with everything.

 

Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of my vacation. Why? Because I got to mom's house, unzipped my camera and it was completely dead. It didn't so much as blink when I pushed the power button. I tried three different pairs of batteries that I'd taken with me, and none of them worked. I suppose it's possible that somehow all three pairs of batteries are completely dead, so I'll have to try my rechargeable batteries now that I'm home. I would be very sad if my camera up and died for no reason. In any case, I'll keep you posted.

 

Anyway, tons of stuff to do and so little time. I'll write sometime next week (I know better by now to promise more than one post a week, even though I did in the beginning. I'm such a slacker.) Tata for now!

I'm going to go stand in a corner...

Yes, I've been very bad and neglectful and I'm sorry. However, I actually have an excuse this time! I'm getting ready to go on vacation to visit my family. I catch my plane tomorrow, actually. So my apologies again and again, but I'm afraid I don't have any time to write anything worth reading just now...perhaps I'll return with some pictures in a week (or perhaps not. We'll see). Until then, take care and I hope you don't get too bored without my rants to keep you company. *snort*

HA!

Woot, I just figured out how to put line breaks in my posts.

I feel tho thmart. *has a feel-stupid moment, then gets over it*

Anyway. My computer knowledge varies from brilliant when it comes to typing, to absolute dunce when it comes to editing web pages or using Excel. We do what we can.

I know I promised you guys pictures quite a while ago and that I have yet to deliver. I'm sorry, really truly I am. I've been meaning to put pictures of my wool-spinning progress up, but to be honest....well, the office/craft area is really a mess. It literally looks like a bomb went off in there. I've been putting off organizing and so, incidentally, I can't get to my spinning stuff. So instead I'll put in pictures of my lurvely pets.

Dis is my Kiki (She's really more loving than she looks)

Dis is my Whiskey Blue (He's really not as attentive as he looks)

And dis is my Jezobel. (Yes, she really is as chillin' as she looks)







Anyway, now that I have some pictures in and my conscience is appeased, I'm going to sign off. Yes, I know, lame post, but.....geez, I have to get up at five in the morning tomorrow. Hopefully if anyone's reading this you'll feel sympathy and "Aw, it's okay. I shouldn't be staring at someone else's blog at nine p.m. anyway. Let's go play with the dog/cat/kid," but if not...I guess I'll never know. Unless you comment. Which you're welcome to.   *cough* G'night.

D'oh

Aah, I'm so naughty. I've only been blogging for a month and I'm already missing posts?! What the heck is wrong with me, anyway.

I could try to blame it on work, but I won't. My boss allowed me to have some overtime so I've been working long days, but I know that's hardly an excuse. Sadly, if I try to remember what I was doing on the days I was supposed to be blogging, my mind draws a blank. So whatever it was, it must not have been very important.

So what do you write about when you've missed a week and a half of posting? Why can't I get the double rainbow song out of my head? And what do you do when your pet snake decides to slither onto the keyboard and help you blog?

Answers;
A. Write about something that doesn't really matter but is hopefully entertaining nonetheless.
B. It's catchy and well done. Listen to it again.
C. Return her to her rightful place around your shoulders. It's very difficult to type with an 80-gram snake slithering her way through your Qwertys.
C.2. Even more difficult when she tries to go down your shirt. 'Nuff said.

Perhaps some day in the not-too-distant future I'll include pictures of my lovely pets. I may or may not be adding another family member soon, we'll have to see what the love in my life thinks about having another tank in the office and whether the guy really wants to find the pet in question a new home. And I'll have to see if I can stomach feeding an adorable live rat to a ball python once every two months. Oops, I may have said too much....moving on.

Have I mentioned that I love to type? I could literally sit at the computer for hours, typing every thought that comes to my noggin and I would never get bored. Trust me, I've tried. Now, just because it's not boring to me doesn't mean that it's not boring to anyone who reads it. So far that I know, I haven't caused any boredom deaths yet (darn it, there she goes on the keyboard again) but I'm still young.

Can anyone explain to me how I can be living like a college student with every paycheck going entirely to bills and food if I'm not going to school? Hmmm.

Speaking of which, I'm off to pay bills. I'll try to post on time next week....but no promises. >.>

My Pride + Other people putting foot in mouth = ...

I like to think that, for a girl, I'm reasonably tough-skinned and it takes a great deal to offend me or hurt my feelings, but every now and again a silly thing gets through even my defenses. However, I will admit that I tend to be sensitive and a wee bit insecure about my creative processes. I may have mentioned before that I write book reviews and let my boyfriend read them. Usually I enjoy it, sometimes I have to really wrack my brain to find something worth writing. Anyhow, last week I finished a book that I was very excited about and I didn't really want to write too many details for fear I would give away the plot. I left it out for the guy to read and went about my business. A couple hours later he came to me with the review in hand and simply said "This is poorly written." At first I was shocked. Poorly written? What did he mean? The shock quickly turned into anger. How dare he tell me something that I wrote was poorly written? I don't see him writing reviews on every single book he reads. Who does he think he is that he can judge me that way? It's not as though I'm going to get the reviews published, and he's the only one who reads them anyway. What a prick. I'm proud to say that I managed to swallow my indignation and replied "That's not very nice. My feelings are hurt." I won't bore you with the details, but we made up of course. He apologized for hurting my feelings and promised to word things more delicately in the future, and I insisted on re-writing the review because I knew that the ugly feeling of self-loathing (something I did was "poorly written") would not go away until I fixed the issue. Yet another part of my perfectionist nature, I suppose. So we made up and things are good once more. I'm so glad we aren't one of those couples who yell at each other, and instead talk things out in a reasoning manner. Anyway, that's my rant for today. See you next time.

Future Aspirations!

First off, I apologize for missing yesterday's post. I, being the party animal that I am, (if you don't know me, insert a healthy amount of sarcasm here) stayed up waaaaaaaay too late on Wednesday and didn't go to bed till three in the morning, and then yesterday I got up at eight to go to work so I was rather brain-dead and numb and in no condition to try and write words of semi-importance. So there you have it; on to the topic of the day. I love to learn, so it only stands to reason that I have many future goals. I set several for myself, you see, because that way even if I attain a goal I still have more to look forward to. I would hate to finally reach my goal, only to realize that I have nothing left to work towards. So my first goal is to try out voice acting. I did attend a class and I have all of the mental tools that I need, and now I'm just waiting for my budget to allow me to buy the equipment needed for my home studio. I plan to take the proceeds from that (hopefully successful) side career and put it toward school. I would absolutely love to go to college, but unfortunately the subjects I'm interested in tend to be very pricey. What subjects, you may ask? Well, I would love to delve into Psychology. It fascinates me to think about why people do things, and I can get engrossed in reading about mental disorders for hours and hours (and I have). Next, I would like to pursue a bachelor's degree in Science. Why? Well, first off I think it would be fun. Also, in the event that I should ever find myself single, without loved ones, alone in the world, I would like to be an astronaut and a bachelor's degree in Science is one of the requirements. So there you have it....my goals, and fairly large ones at that. It's likely I might completely fall short of all of them, but at least I have something that I can strive for should I choose. I always like having a backup plan.