Total LOVE or Total HATE--My Reviews.

My short story Absorbed has been on Amazon for almost a year.

It is only 16 pages long and listed under horror, and has always sold at a decent clip. It is listed as a short story and states that along with the number of pages three times on the Amazon lising.

Amazon listed it as free for several months because they saw it several other places free. Then MANY  people got the story and started to review it. Thankfully it has received many (31 five star) good reviews, including a five star Amazon Vine review.

It has also received five ONE star reviews.

These reviewers hated the story so much that it inspired them to create Amazon profiles for the sole purpose of telling everyone how much they disliked the story. The one star reviewers called the story anti-men, too violent, too short, morbid, unsettling  and disturbing. One of them said a horror reader would probably love it.

That is why I wrote it. Because I love horror, and I know there are plenty of horror readers out there.

One wrote although the story was well-written, it was not their type of book.

Another wrote that she thought the book was great and full of surprises, but the story took a dark turn. She would have preferred it stayed on it's original path.

The story is for people who like the dark, the macabre, and the shivery feeling of fear. It is for that slightly off-center group who want to wonder what is around that next shadowy corner, and revel in chill as they wait. It is not for the weak-of-heart. That is why it is listed in the horror catagory.

If you like happy endings, my books are not for you--unless you would put bloody revenge, evil, and psycological mind-twists in the happy ending catagory.

Absorbed is a short intro to my writing--it is not a long and winding epic novel. Although I do not write to specifically offend, I will NOT avoid writing something if it is true to a character or will enhance the story. I do not think horror is a catagory that is concerned with political correctness. My characters will not say "Oh foo when another F word is more appropriate--and more real. This is not for everyone! And that is fine with me.  There are certain genres I do not like, and I usually do not look for books in this catagory.

I do not expect everyone to like my stories. On the contrary, I think it will be a mixed bag. But I would hope that our stories will be reviewed for what they are, and not what the reviewer expected or did not like because they were reading in the wrong catagory.

And if you are reading horror, keep that light on.  :)

Absorbed is currently free on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/Absorbed-ebook/dp/B005SUBYYI

Who the Hell ARE YOU ??--Personality Testing

Modern personality test were originally developed to reveal aspects of an individual's personality. In 1919 they were further developed to help with the screening process for personnel selection into the armed forces.

(Please feel free to tell me what you see in the comment below--I would love to know :)

We are all familiar with the Rorschach ink blot pictures, and many of us have taken the Myers-Briggs_Type_Indicator_(MBTI) test when applying for a job. Many other forms also exist, and each have weaknesses. Test-taker bias is a problem because the subject can only respond to the topics that are presented to him and relate to him.  Test results rely on truthful answers, and there is no way to truly know if the subject is being honest. In some cases the subject HIMSELF is not aware of his untruths.

Although the last time I interviewed for a job was many years ago and I cannot tell you what was discussed, I DO remember getting a lengthy personality test.

I was told it was par for the course for the interview process, and quite accurate and revealing.

The questions were what you would expect: Do you like parties? Do you like to help people even if they cannot help you in return? Do you like new experiences?

I found it interesting the test would ask the same question several times throughout, sometimes thinly veiled by different wording, and sometimes just an outright repeat. So that began to distract me, and I wondered what other types of patterns and signals they were looking for. I became a bit paranoid that I would answer differently based on where the question was in the test. Did this mean I was a liar? Was there a mysterious IQ revealer hidden within a test of my personality?

And it did not help that there were about 500 questions on the test.

I do NOT have a good attention span, unless it is something I am currently interested in, and I could feel myself starting to fade.

I finished quickly and handed the test to my potential future employer.  She told me the test would be scored in a matter of minutes, and we could discuss the results. That was great, because I am also extremely impatient.

My tests showed, along with many other things, that I am easily distracted, creative, and have a propensity for artistic endeavours.  Hmmm.  I would have told her all those things if she asked me.  She also told me, even though the test showed that I am disorganized and easily distracted, that I would someday make a terrific manager and would fit well in a corporate workplace.

Nooooooo.

Wrong. Terribly wrong.

I have almost no motivation or excitement when doing a job for another person, and I hate babysitting more than ANYTHING in the world, whether it be for kids or adults in the workplace. And being told what to do is not at the top of my list either. Or a dress code. You understand.

While I think that tests might be good for certain situations, and for possibly pointing to some serious personality disorders, I think they can be manipulated, or worse, a wonderful person could take a test and be misinterpreted because the questions are very black and white and as we know, personalities come in a million colors.

I have included a personality test here for fun:

http://www.outofservice.com/bigfive/

And another one from 100 Unfortunate Days with a more-then-slightly mad twist.  Have fun!

Day 43

Pick the symbol you like the most:

1. *

2. #

3. @

4. &

5. ?

6. %

7. +

8. !

9. {

10. }

This is what the symbols mean:

1. If you picked the * you have the ability to read minds sometimes. Sometimes you can tell when the phone is about the ring, and sometimes you can even tell who is on the other end of the phone. Sometimes women find you confusing. You say you are going to do something but you really don’t mean it.

2. If you chose # then you are smarter than you think you are. You also have a really big secret that you want to tell people but if you actually told them they would think you were weird. You love iced tea and you had a really odd nickname in school.

3. Choosing this symbol @ means you love to drive and fly in planes. You have also contemplated cutting yourself with a knife or burning yourself with matches—not a lot, but just enough to see what it feels like. Maybe one or two of you have actually done it. You like the Beatles and have them on your iPod.

4. The & symbol means you are more spiritual or religious than you will openly admit. There is a part of you that wants to tell everyone how much you love your god, but you are afraid they will think you are freaky. You like to swim in the ocean and you like the smell of burning punks in the summer. You hate mosquitoes.

5. Liking the ? is not as obvious as you thought. You are not necessarily confused but you do want a lot of things that you can’t have right now…like a new car. You also wish you could be in better shape. You love jelly beans, especially the red ones, and you like to gamble.

6. The % sign is evil. You pretend you like people when you really don’t. You talk behind people’s backs. You like hamburgers and shellfish. You really are bad though.

7. The + sign means you are very organized and keep all your perfectly cut coupons in a neat little folder that you carry with you at all times. Dinner is always on the table on time, or you want it to be. You are very mean to people who are not as organized as you. The wildest you ever get is being on top.

8. Anyone that likes the ! pretends to be more optimistic than they actually are. They have contemplated moving away from their current life. They have some artistic ability or they like sports. If you like sports the circumference of your head is very large. You have buck teeth a little.

9. If you like the { sign you are very sentimental and live in the past. You keep stuff in little jars in your garage that normal people would throw away. You like the taste of alcohol and are allergic to something that blooms in the spring but cannot figure what it is. Old people like you.

10.If your sign is } you like to invent things—even if it is just in your head. You do not care about houseplants and would probably prefer them to die. You like toasted Wonder Bread with butter and love the smell of suntan lotion—especially Coppertone.

A Welcome to the Dark

This was the first post for As the Crowe Flies last September. I had no followers, and I'm pretty sure no one saw it. But it is September 1st and I'm again looking forward to the coming of the dark~~

As summer comes to an end each year some dread the coming of the cold.  The sun will no longer be bright gold and yellow...it will now contain a shade of blue, and it won't keep us warm.  The dark creeps in earlier, and our minds somehow become darker, too.
 
But as the flowers wilt, something in us comes to life.  We can let the dark, whithered sides of ourselves out again.  We realize that the dread is not for the summer's end, but for the shadows that we all hide. 

Although most of us would never admit to our underground thoughts, we all remember wonderfully shivery nights when we told our deepest, darkest secrets to one another.  Things we would do if we could never get caught, thoughts of revenge plotted on an enemy, or boyfriends we would steal, and possibly give back. 

Thankfully, most of us don't kill our enemies, or steal our neighbor's beautiful diamond necklace, or do anything to get ourselves in very much trouble.  We need to keep up appearances, after all.  How would they feel about all those nasty actions at the country club?  But if we were put in jail for our thoughts, many of us would be put away for a very long time.

Here comes the dark, put out the welcome mat. 

Below is a page from 100 Unfortunate Days:

Day 4

Did you know that all the best people belong to country clubs? If you can afford the $75,000 fee to get in and if you don’t mind people coming to check out your house and if you think it’s okay to post your name in the clubhouse for approval from all the other members and you feel it is obscene to show your shoulders, you will definitely get in and be surrounded by the best people in town. Of course you want your children to rub elbows with other children of wealthy parents, because it is a sign that you are a much better person than all the other people in town who are not in the club. They have a pool and a golf course that you have to pay extra for every time you want to play. All members are expected to eat there at least four times a month—and pay for that too. Because having lots and lots of money is a sign that God loves you. He wants you to live and prosper. But don’t act like a big shot—and don’t do TOO well for yourself because then you will be considered conceited and no one will like you. And why, for God’s sake, if you have so much money, would you live in that tiny house? It doesn’t even have the nicest decorations or a dark red dining room! By the way, your taste is not at all classic, is it? You have a tendency toward the eclectic, don’t you? And you really are such a handful you know. What do you mean you are going to a Junior League function? That does not seem like something you would do at ALL. It sounds like something I would do. See? You’re confusing and hard to handle. Wait—you could have gotten married at the country club and you CHOSE not to? Hmmmm. Really—who was going to sponsor you? And you don’t like to cook? Oh, that is too bad. I went through nine rugs before I finally settled on this one. Oh,—I forgot to tell you—we are redoing the kitchen—again!! I’m so excited! Do you want to come with me and pick out custom made tile?

The Return of the Adrenaline Supergirl

As I was breezing through Facebook a few days ago I came across this picture:

After laughing at the intense look on the little girl's face and the quote, it struck a chord. A really big, two-handed, stretch-your-fingers-as-far-as-they-can-reach chord.

Because it made me realize this is exactly the feeling we are missing as we get older. THIS is the way we felt every single day as kids. We would never consider NOT feeling this way. We got an idea and we acted on it because we knew it would make us feel amazing.

My mother's aunt baby-sat us one weekend, and found us with every cushion from her patio furniture all over the yard and under the porch. The Olympics had nothing on us. Jumping from the deck, running and doing flips in the air, and perfecting twists and mid-air gyrations was extremely important so we could get high scores from the judges. Although I don't think she liked the idea of seven year old kids jumping off the side of her house...

There were no parents there, no one to buy us $200 uniforms, and more importantly, we were doing our own thing. Because, as my son said when he was eight, grown-ups ruin everything. He was talking about playing sports on the school team at that moment, but I knew what he meant. We take our lives and unfortunately the lives of our kids so seriously at such a young age that we take away their fun. We are controlling and feel the need to impart our wishes on our children. They feel too much stress far too early. They need time to be kids, to figure out their OWN ferocious games, and "get good" at something just because THEY love it--not because of something we want from them.  We were superheros that day at my aunt's house, and each of us was completely exhilarated and exhausted at the end of the day. I'm pretty sure we went to sleep happy.

Another day we took every scarf, pillow case, sheet and towel from the linen closet and made a house on the weeping willow tree in the back yard by hanging everything from the drooping branches with clothes pins. We came in for dinner starving and not realizing we had been outside for hours. It was like magic--we created our own world.

This post also made me realize that we let our fears stop us from doing so many things. "I would love to write a book but....  I would love to try out for a commercial but...  I would love to mountain bike or belly dance or play guitar..."  You get the idea.

Of course money is an issue. Time also. But there is still that part of me that wants to do Leap-a-Letics in front of my friend Michael's house in the winter because his sidewalk still freezes perfectly in January. Everything was a competition then, and it felt great. No one was worried that too much competition was going to ruin our self esteem. If we did a bad leap--we were given a bad score. Nobody cried.  It felt great to practice something and get better at it just because we wanted to do it. Not because school said to to do it or our parents. But because we LOVED to do it. 

I want to be excited and terrified again. I want to do cartwheels in my backyard just because it is sunny and learn how to do a backwards dive into my pool. And I want to give my son the space to create his own world too.  But for now I have to go...my people need me. :)

P.S. My short story ABSORBED is currently in the TOP 20 in Amazon.

http://www.amazon.com/Absorbed-ebook/dp/B005SUBYYI 

Madness and Art

Van Gogh cut off his ear.

Sylvia Plath committed suicide.

Numerous entertainers have overdosed on drugs--accidentally or otherwise.

Shakespeare wrote of madness in Macbeth, and hinted about it elsewhere.

Edgar Allen Poe was questionably depressed or bipolar.

Some scientists believe the connection is clear--where there is creativity, there is the potential for madness. One European study linked the same genetic mutation that insights creativity to schizophrenia.

http://io9.com/5316544/has-science-proven-that-all-artists-are-crazy

It certainly seems that the creators of beautiful musical masterpieces like Mozart or Beethoven or breathtaking art like Picasso or Monet have a special vision or a different type of connection to another world. Some say it is because God is always speaking, and they are taking the time or have the ability to listen.

And of course there is the drug connection too. Do true creatives try and self-medicate with alcohol, heroin, or cocaine? Does their propensity toward drugs stem from wanting to expand their already wider ability to see the world in a different way--or a need to quiet the "voices" telling them what to write, paint, or sing.

Or do artists simply remove more of the social restraints that we and society have put in place from a very young age. We are a civilized nation, each of us fitting neatly into our roles and polite mores that have been dictated since our births.

Freud used "talking therapy" to get to what he considered to be the root of people's problems.  He asked that the filters be removed, even if it was momentarily, and to free associate, and say the first things that pop into our heads--even if they seemed crazy or frightening. Wild things were said! New discoveries were made about deep and mysterious problems. We would never say these things in normal everyday conversation--people would think we are....

What if we all tried to keep the filters down a bit. I'm not talking about the ones that keep us out of jail, but the ones that keep us from being embarrassed, or saying what we really feel, or doing what we honest-to-God want to do without the worry of hurting someone, disappointing someone, or being afraid and doing it anyway.  Maybe that is the only difference from the creative geniuses and everyone else.

Is creativity merely the ability to keep these filters down? Maybe those who can control them are lucky. They can write or draw or make music--or in some cases, all these things, and put the filters back in place when they need to function in a social or familial situation.  Are the poor souls who are locked away and forever confused between reality and another world simply lacking the filters at all?

At this point the jury is still out. Not all schizophrenics are artistic or creative, in fact some are simply and sadly paralyzed by what they experience. Not all madness is schizophrenia, and certainly not all artists are mad. 

Some days I wonder if we are not all mad, but not properly categorized yet.

Vacation! Why Don't I Want To Go??

I'm organizing my bathing suits, clothes, makeup and snacks to head to the beach for the weekend.

Normally this is something I look forward to so much that there are a few days I can think of nothing else.  Sitting near the blue ocean with a book and a cool drink in the breeze intoxicates me and calls like a relentless telemarketer.

Not this year.

I'm thinking of the pictures I need to draw for a book I am releasing.  The short stories in my head are shuffling around.  And marketing and advertizing is on my mind.

This is WORK.

And I completely and totally love it.

I've had jobs I've liked before.  I've had jobs I had a talent for.  But nothing before THIS has happily consumed my life.  I write creepy stories and draw pictures that are equally odd.  I also get to indulge my inner-child by writing for kid's.

I am not making enough money to support my family yet, but things are slowly moving in the right direction.

Of course being an author is not for everyone.  Neither is being an artist and drawing picutres all day.  But it IS for me, and every single day I am grateful that I can do it.  It also makes me hope that I am raising my son in a way that will allow him to do what he loves, and get paid for it. 

You know that little voice, the one that says go do that thing...whatever that thing is for you, go do it.  Even if you only have 15 minutes a day to spare, DO THAT THING.  Your thing.

Of course I'll have fun at the beach with my family.  The ocean will be salty, blue, and inviting.  But for the very first time, I will be just as happy to come home and get back to my job. 

So listen to that tiny voice, maybe someday you won't want to go on vacation either. :)

Can You Love One Person Forever?

My grandmother lived to be almost 100 years old.

She was married to my grandfather over 65 years. They grew up in a port town in New Jersey and met when they were about eleven. They spent their childhoods with no television, and although the technology was available, they did not have a phone until they were married.  My grandfather used to try and pay a visit to my grandmother when they were in middle school, and her mother used to pour water on his head from the third story window to make him go away.

Obviously this did not deter him, for they were married about seven years later after he bought her a coat during one very cold winter because she did not have the money.

He was a big man--over six feet tall with a big barrel chest and strong arms. She was tiny--more than a foot smaller than he, standing about four foot nine or ten.

I remember him often trying to give her kisses, and her playfully slapping him away.

When he passed away everyone cried--he was a man who loved everyone equally, played no favorites to kids, grand kids, or great-grand kids.  Except for one--his wife.  She was the girl of his dreams forever, and I could tell he never, ever lost his fondness for her.

I can't say the same in reverse.  She was eternally exasperated with him, and let him know in no uncertain terms.  Yet she was devastated when he passed.

We are not the same people we were when we met our mates.  Even five years can be an eternity when it comes to maturity.

I agree with Liz Phair when she says in her song "Somebody's Miracle" that watching a couple staying close is like the bloom of a rose.  I also agree with her that this is something to be envied.  To be able to evolve together, to stay in love, and to have someone forever is a gift.

 "Somebody's Miracle"

I'm so far, so far away from it now
That it seems like I may never know how
People stay in love for half of their lives
It's a secret they keep between husbands and wives

Baby, There goes somebody's miracle
Walking down the street
There goes some modern fairy tale
I wish it could happen to me
But I look at myself
Wonderin' if I'm just too weak
To have such faith in myself

Once upon a time I was so restless in love
When things we're fine, I changed my mind just because
Now I see how wrong and reckless I've been
Each frog has a prince just waiting inside of him

Baby, there goes somebody's miracle
Walking down the street
There goes some modern fairy tale
I wish it could happen to me
But I look at myself, and I think what the hell
Maybe I'm just too naive
To have such faith in myself
You know I'm prayin' for it

But the queen, she likes to sit on her throne
Doesn't mean you two are never alone
It's just love has needs that love only knows
Watch a couple stay close, it's like the bloom of a rose

Baby, there goes somebody's miracle
Walking down the street
There goes some other fairy tale
I wish it could happen to me
There goes somebody's miracle
Walking down the street
There goes some modern fairy tale...

I never cry out loud,
I keep my tears to myself
But I woke up one day and I found my life had left me for someone else

I guess it must be unhappy with me

Baby, there goes somebody's miracle
Walking down the street
There goes some modern fairy tale
I wish it could happen to me
But I look at myself
Wondering if I'm just too weak
To have such faith in myself
You know I'm prayin for it
You know I'm prayin for it
You know I'm prayin for it

Is Medical Marijuana Legal or Not?

There are seventeen states, Alaska, Arizona, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Hawaii, Maine, Michigan, Montana, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, Washington and Washington, D.C., where the use of marijuana is considered legal for a variety of medical reasons ranging from ALS to terminal cancer.

The use of marijuana has been found by proponents to reduce stress, pain, increase appetite as it decreases nausea, and according to some, increase well being.

Opponents say there are 20 times the carcinogenic properties in the smoke of marijuana vs. cigarette smoke.  They also say it is a gateway to more serious drugs like cocaine, meth, or even heroin.

That being said, many states are in the process of making marijuana legal for medical purposes.  New York is considering not its legality for medical purposes right now, but making the possession of small amounts of marijuana a finable violation vs. a misdemeanor which is a jailable offense.  But that is another subject.

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2012/06/04/ny-gov-cuomo-proposes-reducing-marijuana-penalty/

I heard on the radio that a man was arrested in California for the possession of medical marijuana, where the substance is currently considered legal for medical use.  I was confused, so I looked it up.  Having a recommendation from a physician means you have been approved to USE marijuana for your current medical condition, it does not mean you can't be arrested for the possession, possession for sale, transporting a legal substance, and it would be your responsibility to prove your possession was for medical purposes.

The amount you are allowed to possess varies from state to state, the smallest being one oz. usable product, (Alaska, Montana, Nevada) to 24 oz. usable product (Washington and Oregon).  And 14 of the 17 states  also allow for personal cultivation.

http://medicalmarijuana.procon.org/view.resource.php?resourceID=000881

I don't have a problem with this drug being used medicinally. There are plenty of drugs with side effects and notoriety that are currently in use today that in my opinion, are far more problematic than marijuana.  There is a drug out there now that is used for psoriasis that hinders your immune system--it basically induces an autoimmune state.  Some of the warnings attached to this drug caution the user of the possibility of infections, increases in certain cancers and tuberculosis.  Many pain-killers have an addictive quality and can also cause the patient problems. 

We would never consider taking pain-killers away from the population that needs them, but we cannot seem to agree that it is OK to give marijuana to the sufferers of chemotherapy side effects, intense pressure of glaucoma, certain types of pain, MS, AIDS, HIV, or seizures. Could this because of the stigma attached to it left over from the 60s? 

So, it is safe to say marijuana is legal for certain medical conditions.  In certain places.  Just don't get caught with it driving home from the clinic.

Voodoo, Energy, Positive Thinking--Magic or Fact

I'm sure someone has told you somewhere along the line to "always look on the bright side of life..."

When Monty Python tells me to keep my head up I smile and laugh, when the average person tells me I want to smack them.  Maybe not really smack them, but I certainly develop one of those dark ink-scratch clouds over my head like Charles Schulz drew over Linus's head when Lucy tried to steal his blanket.

But I am pondering whether our states of mind can actually affect our quality of life.  And I also question if a practice like voodoo is merely a self-induced hypnosis where we can harm ourselves by over-thinking something to the point of creating a self-fulfilling prophesy.

There are endless books on positive thinking where we are told how to remove anything bad from our minds and to only focus on the good, happy, and helpful.  The queen of affirmations is probably Louise Hay who has helped endless people with her books, workshops, and recordings. 

http://www.amazon.com/Heal-Your-Life-Gift-Edition/dp/1561706280/ref=pd_sim_b_1

Are affirmations just a form of reverse-voodoo? 

Do we actually have the ability to make things happen with out thoughts?  Some people think we do.  Dr. Keith Scott-Mumbly believes we can help ourselves or harm ourselves by how we think.  He even believes we sometimes accidentally sabotage ourselves with unconscious thought patterns.  Supposedly we develop patterns when we are very young as defense mechanisms and methods of survival.  As we grow and leave the situations that caused us to develop these necessary patterns, we continue to use them though we no longer need them.  Now instead of helping us these patterns hinder us.  Read how we can help ourselves with reprogramming according to Dr. Mumbly:

http://www.alternative-doctor.com/mind_stuff/tools10.html

My personal opinion on the topic stems from a famous quote by Eleanor Roosevelt.  The quote says "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  Everyone loves this quote.  It is supposed to be empowering--I feel it is dangerous.  I believe it could hurt someone who is truly depressed and needs help they cannot muster from within.  It could make someone feel worse who is stuck in a terrible situation and cannot figure a way out.

While I do believe we should always do our best and assume everything will be OK, I also think we should seek help when needed and NOT feel bad if we can't pull it off ourselves.

Now back to the magic.

If we eat purely healthy food, supposedly our bodies improve.  New skin in 30 days, our liver can regenerate in 6 weeks, and our skeleton is replaced in 3 years by new cells.  So why can't we do the same with our minds.  Could we actually think ourselves into a better situation?  If our thoughts are as pure as organic food can we do magic?

Mystics believe that we can.  A tulpa is "the concept of a being or object which is created through sheer discipline alone. It is a materialized thought that has taken physical form and is usually regarded as synonymous to a thoughtform." 

I have never had the ability to completely change a thought pattern if my emotions are pushing me in the other direction.  I love the idea of true magic, but I am not convinced in one direction or another.  If anyone has a magical story to share--I would LOVE to hear it :)

Please read about tulpas on Day 46 of 100 Unfortunate Days:

Day 46

Anything can be a tulpa. If you think of something long enough, you will make it real. You can make almost anything come true. Stacks of books are written about all the methods of imagery, manifestation and self-fulfilling prophecies—but in reality, all you have to do is think. Nothing tricky or fancy—just think. You’ll do this and you won’t even know it. You will worry about your kid…she’ll be sad at school, she’ll do badly with her new friends. Just keep it up—it will surely happen. Whatever you think about for your kids, whatever you worry about—that is what they will become. Pity them and they will become the kid that should be pitied. You gave them a tulpa. They are their own tulpa because of you. People take things away from us all the time. They call names, they give us wrong directions and they hurt our feelings. We take it from there. No one can ever talk to us as much as we talk to ourselves. “I’m such a witch, I’m such a witch…” One day your husband made you mad and you add something to his food that may upset his stomach just a little bit. “I’m such a witch…” The mole on your face has a hair you never noticed before. “…such a witch…” You no longer feel a communion with God. Somewhere along the line you become the witch. A tulpa is a thought come to life. Mystics in India believe if you can imagine something to the point of knowing it down to its finest detail—eventually you will have a hard time knowing if it is your imagination or not. Then this spirit/idea takes on shape and energy and it becomes real. So real that you can no longer get rid of it. So real that it can become a part of you and have the ability to change your life.

Horror--Pick Your Pleasure

I am lucky enough to be in a group called TESSpecFic, a group of speculative writers, and we are the writers of weird.  We are also the writers of horror, dark fantasy, and many other genres.

Our leader and group creator, Marie Loughlin, suggested we tackle the question, what is horror, and how does it differ from dark fantasy?

Oh, the delicious idea of horror, and oh, the dark and twisted and avenues we can meander down.  There are many categories and subtle sub-categories of horror to explore--but I am going to reduce them to two. 

For some, horror is very direct, shocking, and gory: 

A group of unsuspecting and vulnerable teens is chainsawed, hung on meat hooks and destroyed...

Kidnapped victims are forced to run through razor wire, remove their own eyes, or cut off their limbs...

Travelers are sadistically tortured, an important organ is cut from a man and fed to a dog, and blood and pieces of flesh fly with wild abandon...

If there are no blood and guts, some do not consider it to be "true" horror.  The fluff and psychological inferences do not fly as anything but boring.  This faction of people likes nothing left to the imagination.  They live for the cringe factor--the more in-your-face, the better.  Zombies eating intestines, werewolves ripping throats, serial killers dismembering, and psychopaths torturing fit neatly into this category. 

For others, horror is a subtle and divine head-trip.  Not always as direct, and sometimes teetering on the verge of another category, this horror can be reminiscent of those fuzzy-vague nights of our teens...exciting, thrilling, heart-pumping, yearning, and sometimes terrifying.

A disembodied voice warns of terrible future events...

A dismantling of reality is slowly replaced with a growing realization of madness...

A boy commits suicide by shooting himself in the head, and his surviving brother is given the horrible weapon as a birthday present by his parents...

When something is seductive and beautiful, we cannot help but look at it.  When that something is slowly torn down, ruined, changed, and broken--we are riveted.  When our inner voices morph and we question what is sane and what is madness, we ponder our own sanity, and we need to know more.  When we watch a villain suffer and we feel a tingle of joy, we question our morals and we question our decency.

Whether you like subtle or in your face horror the need and satisfaction is all the same--we experience things we could never experience otherwise, revenge, murder, suicide, torture, sadism, masochism, cannibalism and a host of other treats from the safety of a theater, our living room couch, or our favorite chair as we read a book in the dark.

Fantasy is a category of writing where medieval myths and concepts are the main focus.  I think it could be easy for a dark fantasy book to cross the line into the horror-zone simply because of the direction of the story.  For instance, a queen kidnapped and tortured in a very Hostel-like environment would still, in my opinion, be considered dark fantasy and not horror because of the medieval premise. 

But I am also a believer in sub-sub-sub categories that cannot be found on Amazon.

For example, where does possession fit?  Is it horror?  A memoir?  Occult?

So dark fantasy should have more branches below it on the flow chart.  Horror fantasy, black comedy, dark memoirs, and non-fiction occult are a few categories I would love to see added to our genre choices.

I also think that all genres can bleed into almost any other genre, no pun intended--and I don't want to take the magic out of the topic by dissecting (sorry) it too much.

Please visit the other members of TESSpecFic and read their views of horror.


Marie Loughin

• Genre Confusion: Just what the heck is “Horror,” anyway, and how is it different from Dark Fantasy?

Jaye Manus

• What is Horror? The answer is in the question

Paul D. Dail

• Potential Perils of the Horror label…or…The Difficulties of Defining a Genre

Kim Koning

• Shivers Down My Spine

Aniko Carmean

• All Around the Table, What is Horror?

Jonathan D. Allen

      *  http://jonathandallen.com/  What is horror?  Baby Don't Hurt Me...

Thanks Marie!
     

Delicious Revenge

Do you recall the last time someone did you wrong?

If it was a minor infraction, you were probably mad for a bit and then let it go.

If it was a bit more serious you probably had to say something, or possibly even felt like yelling a screaming a bit.  The more volatile of us may even punch something.

But if someone did something terrible to you or someone you love, or you were to witness atrocities of the innocent, chances are you would want revenge.  Not giving the evil-doer a good talking to or helping them get on the right track, most likely you would want to see them suffer.Or at least hear something relatively wicked happened to them.

We hate the endings of books or movies that leave us hanging, especially if the bad guy does not get his due.

Oh the lovely feeling of satisfaction when a cheating husband is caught, and it is even more lovely if he is caught by not only the wife, but a film crew, and his other girlfriend.  Same with a cheating wife.  Or one of those vile people who neglect or abuse their animals.  Of course we love to see the animal saved and in the arms of a new and loving owner, but it's so much better when they hunt down the abuser and he has to pay.  I think one of the reasons reality television is gaining popularity is we get to experience the satisfaction of the bad guys going down.

It does not mean we are awful to love the thought of revenge. In fact according to the following article it is unusual for a person to NOT feel vengeful when they are wronged--it is probably a sign they are repressing true feelings.

http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2831618&page=1

I do not think I could personally injure someone who has done me wrong, but I have never been pushed to my limits. I've attached a link to my short story Absorbed that is listed as free for the next week on Smashwords.  It is a dark and twisted tale of a love gone very wrong, with a few tricks.

Hope you like it.  :)

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/96160

Tebow, Football and Sports in General--Help Me Get It!

Easter has come and gone, and I don't think I remember a bigger deal on Easter than Tim Tebow speaking at a church in Texas and drawing a crowd of approximately 15,000 people.

Tim Tebow seems like a nice guy and he certainly has received plenty of attention from his prayer pose.  But did people go to hear him speak or see their favorite football player?

I grew up an artist.  Painting, writing, drawing, singing, dancing--anything.  I was never one to be very into sports.  I had a boyfriends who was the captain of the lacrosse team in high school, but I cannot remember ever going to one of the games.  I grudgingly played tennis with my family on weekends, but would have prefered to do practically anything else.  I remember I loved playing wiffle ball on our front lawn as a kid with all the neighbors, but it was nothing serious.

I've been to football games, baseball games, basketball games, hockey games and the U.S Open.  Although I've enjoyed parts of each game, I can honestly say I was bored through most of them. 

I liked Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame--but I did not have to sit in the freezing cold for four hours or fight the crowds when the day was over.

So help me here--what is it?

What is it that makes people spend thousands of dollars for season tickets? 

Why do people spend hours to get to see Tim Tebow speak at a church on Easter Sunday?

I feel left out.  I envy everyone jumping up and down for the team they love.  But I don't feel it--but I want to.

I saw my first Yankee game when I was in the sixth grade.  I took a bus with all the other crossing guards from school--this was our special day, our reward for keeping everyone safe and working so hard.  And I LOVED that day.  It was sunny and beautiful and we ate hot dogs and yelled that the Red Sox needed washing.  I could not see a thing--we were up in the very last row.  Behind us was a window with a metal grate over it.  The wind was whipping and we could not hear a thing either.  But I got to know some new kids, and I liked that part A LOT.  So I became a Yankee fan--kinda.  I could high-five other Yankee fans in the hall now.  (I was not super-popular--so this was AWESOME!)

So I will still go to a game because I can remember that wonderful Yankee game day feeling in sixth grade.

If anybody can tell me what they love about sports I would really like to know.  I am looking forward to that high-five feeling again :) 

The Dark

I just read Charity Parkerson's twitter post that said:

"Evil lives in the dark--we instinctively know this as children." 

And it struck a chord with me.

I remember being terrified to go into the basement because it was dark. And later because my sister would bribe me like Lucy would Charlie Brown. She would ask me to get her a toy from the basement because she was too "little" and look at me with the biggest brown puppy-dog eyes you have EVER seen--and I fell for it every time.  So I would get to the bottom step, and she would shut off the light, slam the door, and run.

I was afraid to sleep without the hall light on--I still leave the lights and television on when my husband is away.

Everything is much scarier in the dark.  I cannot remember a horror movie where the really terrifying stuff happens during the day.

30 Days of Night is a movie about the town of Barrow, Alaska, that is plunged into a vampire filled 30 days where the sun never rises.  We all know they can only get you after the sun goes down...

Werewolves only 'turn' during the full moon--at night. 

My grandmother would say "there is nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light."  Oh, but Grandma--we can't see what waits for us when the lights are down.

We are told we will see a golden light when we die, leading us to the promise land.

This Little Light of Mine is shining and surely showing our good side.

Saying someone is all 'goodness and light' is self-explanatory.

A book I read about Feng Shui and "clearings" said that spirits live in the dark and the clutter.  The dim areas in our home that collect piles of stuff also harbor ghosts and evil.  We feel uncomfortable there not only because of the mess, but because darker and more base entities have come to roost. There is no motion--and no light.
Read about it here:

http://www.amazon.com/Creating-Sacred-Space-With-Feng/dp/0553069160/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332779809&sr=1-2

I can't say if these things are true--but I think Charity Parkerson is right.  We DO feel things when we are children and running up the cellar stairs for dear life because we know something growling and dark is nipping at our heels.  But we grow out of these things--we are rational now and we learn to fight these feelings.

Maybe we should listen to our instincts a bit more.  Maybe our inner voice is right--the dark is scary.

Day 57 of 100 Unfortunate Days

Every single basement has a dark corner or room no one likes. Maybe the whole basement is dark and scary. Spirits collect in dark and cluttered spaces. They hide and wait for you because they are stuck. Some people can see them. Some people see the long, thin, black, wispy figures with arms ten feet long that unfold as they slowly reach for you in the dark because you have to go down there to get something or fix a light bulb or retrieve a screwdriver.

Part of you revs up and moves really quickly to get out of there because you know if you wait long enough and the arms fully unfold, they can touch you and then part of you belongs in the black corner in the basement. Then it will be very hard to be normal again. You will wake up in the middle of the night, and you won’t be able to get back to sleep because you will worry about all the things you have done wrong and how you are hurting people.

You can’t get this out of your mind now and you think that maybe if you count and envision each number in your head as you say it in your mind; you can block some of the bad thoughts. Or maybe you can pray—say the Lord’s Prayer over and over and over and God will surely be there to help you because you are saying his prayer. But it doesn’t help.

God doesn’t give a fuck when you are miserable—he doesn’t care if you pray. You can pray until there is blood dripping out of your mouth and nothing will change. God is an asshole that way. Even a relatively rotten person will assist you if you are begging for help, but your thoughts will just revolve through your mind over and over until you want to take a gun like the lead in Fight Club and shoot them out of your head. Maybe someday you will, but for now, you are trying to figure why God is such a jerk-off and you have to live like this.

You wonder why you feel forsaken—well it’s probably because you have been forsaken and you don’t know how to live in that state. Because when you are a kid somebody probably told you everything would be all right, and now you realize they lied. So you keep lying to yourself, telling yourself it’s not such a big deal, but actually it is, because now the dark corners in your basement have started to get darker. And bigger. The arms get longer and longer and pretty soon there won’t be anywhere you can go where they can’t touch you. So you start to drink or take pills or do some other kind of drug so you can’t tell when you get touched. Now the problem is you get touched all the time, but you don’t know it. At least now you don’t care.

Puppy Love

I have loved animals since I was a very young girl.

I loved the idea of having a pet..a bird to sit on my shoulder like a pirate, a puppy to wag his tail when I came home, or a kitten to pet and stroke as it purrs. 

But my parents never agreed to these pets.  We ended up with endless fish (not interactive), and two gerbils (they bit and smelled very bad).

When I got married my new husband and I wanted a puppy.  I liked small balls of fluff and he wanted a manly dog to take on long hikes in the Watchung Hills and look respectable on walks.

We looked at Huskies, Labs, Chihuahuas, and plenty of others.  As puppies they are all adorable and troublesome, and we ended up with a yellow Lab we named Molly.  I knew instantly this was NOT the dog for me.  She was not cuddly, wanted to wrestle constantly, and I had to clean up after her every time the doorbell rang because she got so excited.  She loved everyone and she was the perfect companion for my husband and son.

And she was a good dog--we just never clicked.

My son wanted a Sheltie after we lost Molly.  I did not know who had the sadder eyes, my son, or the Sheltie--and Penny the Sheltie became our next dog. 

She's soooo smart.  She understands endless commands and will chase a ball or the sound of sirens if we tell her "go get it!"  She has a beautiful coat and is perfectly trained.

Then I met a tiny Chihuahua named Valentine. 

She is sassy, nippy, cuddly, and practically untrainable.  And for whatever reason I am in love with her.  She does practically nothing "right" according to puppy training books, has ears bigger than her head, and I am happier since I brought her home.

So I want you to know that all dogs are NOT the same.  You should pick the dog or pet that tickles you, the one that makes you smile, the ugly misfit at the pound you cannot leave behind because she pulls on your heart strings. 

You only live once.  Don't get a fashionable pet, or one someone else thinks is great--get the one you love.  :)

Expose Yourself

Writing a book that had elements of me and my personality was nerve-wracking.

I had no problem doing the writing--but when it came to pushing the actual publish button I felt like I was standing on Madison Avenue naked.  I had second thoughts and regrets, felt exposed yet exhiliarted, and the book was not even available to anyone yet.

But there was a stronger need to get the book out than to let the fear win.  It was not an autobiography and I had to remind myself it was NOT a diary--but a study of a dark personality. 

The writing was cathartic and unnerving.  It dug up corpses I thought would surely remain buried.  I had to deal with emotions I almost forgot I had--and then live with them.

Weeks and weeks passed and I realized I could no longer pretend the emotions and situations the book revealed were just a side effect of writing a novella.  So I faced them.  Friends had to deal with my sudden changes in mood.  My blog had become a dumping ground for every angry thought and question I ever had. I am not even going to mention what my poor family had to go through.  (But thanks if any of you are reading this--friends too.)  I also realized who my real friends are--are who are not.  And I made some great new ones while meandering this unexpected path.  :)

Yikes.

After three days of shock, depression, and a dawning of what I was doing wrong and silly in my life--I faced my demons.  Holy #$%.  This was better than psychological rehab.  I'm not saying I am normal and perfect now and I will never do anything wrong again as long as I live--but I am saying that writing that book (100 Unfortunate Days) allowed me to clear the bats from my belfry.

Oh, there are so many cliches, quotes, and sayings running through my head now:

It's always darkest before the dawn.

You must do the thing you fear the most.

Honest is the best policy.

Just do it.

They all apply--and there are more but I will stop here.

So I guess what I am trying to say is expose yourself.  Let the real you out.  Let it scare the hell out of you and tear everything up in its path.  And when you come out on the other end get ready--you will feel like Rip Van Winkle waking up after his 100 year sleep :)

(The image at the top right is the potential new cover for 100 Unfortunate Days--what do you think?)

The First Time I Was Charmed

Yesterday brought back many memories. I saw friends that I have not seen for 40 years.

We talked about games we played, other children we knew, and how life is different now.

We spoke of a family that lived behind us that was touched by the tragedy of losing a child, and how we all shared yards like they were our own.  No fences divided us and the area we played seemed endless.

We were all different ages.  My sister was probably one of the youngest at three years old, and Karen, our neighbor, was a mature woman of ten.  Roy was in high school and was totally out of our league.  He did not hang around with us, but we watched him in awe as he played his drums and got to have his own room.

Bruce was younger than Roy, but was still a much older man to me.  Playing with his younger siblings was always fun, but when he was there something exciting and new was added to our younger group.

One overcast day we were swinging on his swingset, and he got bored and started to dig for worms.  The girls kept swinging, and Bruce was telling us he was finding some big fat ones.  Then he said the terrible words, "And I found an especially juicy one for you...PENELOPE..." I froze.

I could not swing but I could not get off the swing either.  Something bad was going to happen--so I covered my eyes with my hands.  I think I was shaking a little.  I heard the others girls yelling ewwwwww!!!! and no no no!!  I was imagining a worm nightmare behind my closed eyes. Would he put the worm in my hair?  Would he throw it at me? Then I heard everyone telling me to look and open my eyes!  Open your eyes!! 

And there, about a foot from my face, was a daisy.  And about a foot behind that stood Bruce, with a simple grin on his face.  He held it there for about two more seconds, then said,

"Here."

Part of my mind remembers him saying something almost wise after that like "see, things aren't always what they seem..." but I can't say for sure.

I took the daisy and smiled non-stop for the rest of the week.  I did not fall madly in love with Bruce or even think he liked me, but something was new and different in my life.  Not everything turned out bad that I imagined would.

Today I look for the magic in everyday life.  Many times the smallest things contain the biggest wonders.  Did the daisy event with Bruce have something to do with this?  I don't know for sure, but maybe it did.

One thing I DO know is if you want to find something, you actually have to look for it.  :)

When Is a Relationship Really Over?

I am writing about a failing relationship in a new book. 

There is no doubt that the relationship in the book is doomed.  Of course both characters are flawed and have emotional baggage and issues, but don't we all.  Yet the fate of their situation is easy for me to see.  Nothing mysterious is going on, they are not struggling with tough decisions--it is just OVER.

It is rarely like this is real life.

We stay and fight and try and work on situations that may be salvageable, but how do we know when to actually end it?

Certain people say short of physical abuse, you should stay.  You are married after all, and that is supposed to be forever.  And of course if children are involved that is a whole different story.  Here is a paragraph from an article by Jayna Solinger: 

Generally, it is better for children to suffer a bad marriage than to cope with divorce. According to University of Michigan psychologist and divorce expert Neil Kalter, the misery of an unhappy marriage is less significant than the changes after a divorce. The children would rather their parents keep fighting and not get divorced (Marriage 64). Although this does not seem logical, it shows that children want their parents together at all costs. Also, contrary to popular belief, the alternative to most divorces is not life in a war zone (Zinmeister 30). In the vast number of divorces there is no strife or violence that could ruin a person’s childhood; the divorce is usually driven by a quest for "greener grass." These divorces almost always make the child worse off and create a number of unnecessary problems for the child. If parents would concentrate harder on working conflicts out rather than their own personal happiness, the children would be much better off.

While I do agree that parents should try and be their best for their kids, this paragraph makes me feel the child would learn that he is stuck once he is in a terrible situation.  That is not a message I would want to send my children.

On the other side of the coin, leaving might NOT be the worst thing:

Divorce, however, is not always a terrible thing. In a few given situations it proves to be for the best. The two situations that may prove beneficial for a person to get a divorce are abusive relationships and infidelity. When one parent is abusive, whether verbal, physical, or sexual, to the children, it is more beneficial to the child if the parent leaves (Huffman 4). Also, if one spouse is beating the other, the marriage should be ended. If a child watches his/her parent get beaten his entire life, he/she could think that it is fine to act this way or severely resent the parent for staying.

And so, the quandary.

How is one supposed to know what path is the better?  Hindsight here, as always, is 20/20, and we will never know the results of our decisions until years in the future.

I remember reading a little book called Life Advice from 4 to 104.  Little kids gave advice about how to hide bad tasting vegetables in your milk, teens advised how to sneak in after curfew.  A man of 92 said the biggest decision with the most consequences you will ever make in your life is the person you choose as a mate.  When I read it I was younger and did not understand the implications.

I get it now.

Day 64 of 100 Unfortunate Days

Day 64

How can you tell when you should leave someone? Is emotional neglect enough? How about being called a c**t, or having your grammar corrected in front of friends and family, or having your antique furniture you were saving from your family be put on the curb for trash pick-up? Or being told you were being ‘trained’ after your newlywed husband refused to talk to you for a month? Maybe being told you were not really sick but looking for attention when you had pneumonia? But on the other side of the coin, what if you have not worked in 15 years and this same man supported you and gave you everything you could ever need. Vacations and diamonds. A perfect house in one of the best neighborhoods and school systems in the United States. So am I a hooker? Does that actually make me a prostitute? Should I have left my honeymoon when he told me wasn’t speaking to me because he “realized what he had gotten himself into” by marrying me—and he did not like the way I packed? Can you really stay married to someone and feel that they are an asshole half the time? He thinks I am a waste of space and wonders if my father is disappointed with me because I am such an underachiever. How I am wasting my God-given talents? Can a person like you—or love you—and not talk to you? How many times can you try to talk to someone, or go to therapy, or read books to help salvage an emotionally ridiculous relationship? Can you stay in the relationship and retain your dignity and not have people think that you are a doormat?

Isaac Asimov, C.S. Lewis, and the Reagan Doctrine

I was feeling inadequate and incomplete because of my skepticism about religion and God, so I requested a clear indication.

And it did seem that the answer to my request for a signal of whether God was indeed there was all signs point to yes.

And then, of course, I had to start thinking.

My average education was not serving me well here, so I looked up two scholars, Isaac Asimov, and C.S. Lewis. 

Both frighteningly over educated, and born within 25 years of one-another, they had strikingly different views of God and religion.

Lewis, from Ireland, was an atheist, then theist, and eventually a devout Christian.

Asimov, originally from Russia but smuggled into the United States by his parents, probably could be called a reluctant atheist.

Lewis writes in blossoming, flowing and rich descriptions in contrast with Asimov's sharp, clean and direct sentences.  Asimov won Nebula and Hugo awards for his writings, and his short story "Nightfall" is considered by many the best science fiction story ever written.  Read "Nightfall" here:

http://doctord.dyndns.org:8000/stories/nightfall.htm

Lewis has written the Narnia series, The Screwtape Letters, and many additional Christian-themed books, several made into well-known and popular movies.  He was moved to re-devotion to Christianity partially by his good friend J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Hobbit.

Asimov called himself an atheist, but with reservations.  He believed the term stated what he did not believe in, but neglected what he did.  He considered himself a humanist.  Although he wrote in simple and straightforward sentences, his mind was anything but simple.  He was a long-standing member of Mensa, and served as VP of the High IQ Society.

And now to the theological arguments.

Lewis's books argue that most evidence is based in favor of Christianity, and reasonable people should therefore be Christian.  (This is the most simplified version of his idea.)  He did not feel one should believe in Christianity if, in their opinion, the signs pointed otherwise  He did not believe "leaps of faith" served a skeptic any purpose.  But, for those who considered themselves devout Christians, he believed it better "to believe based on faith rather than evidence.  For a complete view of Lewis's ideals please read here:

http://atheism.about.com/od/cslewisnarnia/a/apologist.htm

Asimov pointed out that Ronald Reagan stated that anyone who does not believe in God cannot be trusted because they have nothing to motivate them to behave properly.  Asimov felt this was sad, inferring that people needed to be bribed and scared into behaving a certain way according to the "Reagan Doctrine," and we do not have the ability to keep our word or behave properly simply based on a sense of honor.  If we help someone, keep a promise, or just act basically decent, we are merely buying a "ticket to heaven."

I found the Reagan Doctrine fascinating, and hope you take the time to read this interesting treatise on a touchy subject.  :)

http://www.skeptictank.org/isaac.htm

Day 12 of 100 Unfortunate Days

Everyone thinks the anti-Christ is the devil, but it’s not. It’s a person just like you or me. Then the anti-Christ could tell you that if you do not go to church and follow him, you will go to hell. Or maybe he is right and IF you go to church you are following not the teachings of God, but of Satan. Satan is the father of lies, right? How the hell are we supposed to know who is lying

Now I'm Self-Conscious...

Christians have always made me feel uncomfortable.  Or anyone who follows a religion with unwavering belief.

How can you believe in something you cannot see, feel, or touch? 

And maybe uncomfortable is the wrong word. 

Although I don't think the way I feel is inadequate--it is close.  Maybe I feel less-than-good.  And I'm not exactly sure why.

It could be because they have that unwavering belief in God--and if you read my last post (below)--that is something I do not have.

Speaking about my last post...

I re-read it.

And then I re-read the comments.

I think a few Christians commented.  And a few non-Christians too.  I have to say these comments, along with conversations that I had with friends and family concerning God and this post, came closer to making me feel there is a God than anything I have ever read, studied or experienced in church.

Someone reached out a hand in friendship, another privately emailed me and said they understood.  Others reinforced friendships I was already proud to have.

I asked for a sign in my last post--an undeniable signal from the Big Guy himself.  This is the first time I can say their was not only a sign--but a shiny banner repeatedly putting itself in my field of vision.

Yikes.

Does this make me a Christian?  Or a person with an unwavering belief?

Not yet.  Which is good because I feel a bit self-conscious even writing this post because Christians and people of unwavering belief make me feel uncomfortable.  But I have to be honest...

It kinda feels neat thinking that for a change I could be headed in that direction...

Day 23 of 100 Unfortunate Days below.  One part of a journey...

Day 23

Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother’s special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard…all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed. As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground. A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. “Go home.” it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.

  





I

Do I Believe in God?

I want to believe in God--I swear I do.

But wanting and actually believing are two completely different animals. 

I believe in fits and starts.  I go through phases where I pray and promise everything from the perfect prayer life to never using the Lord's name in vain if the turbulence in the plane would cease and we would land safely.  On the other side of the altar (coin), I condemn the entire notion of a god to worship, feeling it is a way to keep people submissive and genuflecting.

Then there is a third mindset that does not allow me to feel anything but contempt for a god that would allow his only son's death, even if it was for the salvation of an eternity of souls.  He's the ruler of everything!  For #$% sake's he could have thought of another way.

Many times I don't like him very much--or the idea of him...or her.  Maybe it was a lack of proper Sunday schooling, but I was always taught that prayer could help just about anything.  I have never found that to be the case.  (Although my plane rides HAVE all ended safely...)

God allows or disallows all things.  Why, why, why would he allow hunger, war, disease, murder, or any number of other pains and tribulations?

I am supposed to swear my love and faith to an entity that responds with resounding silences to my conversations and beseechings.

My questions are nothing new--but they never leave me.

I read the Screwtape Letters--sometimes a few times in a year--hoping to glean a shining new grain of faith from Christian scholar C. S. Lewis.  I feel energized and renewed--for a day or two.

http://www.amazon.com/Screwtape-Letters-C-S-Lewis/dp/0060652934

I want a sign.  A glowing and shining light with a voice in my head--or out loud--telling me that indeed this is truly GOD.

I will probably keep doubting and waiting.  And hoping.

Day 57 from 100 Unfortunate Days

Every single basement has a dark corner or room no one likes. Maybe the whole basement is dark and scary. Spirits collect in dark and cluttered spaces. They hide and wait for you because they are stuck. Some people can see them. Some people see the long thin black wispy figures with arms ten feet long that unfold as they slowly reach for you in the dark because you have to go down there to get something or fix a light bulb or retrieve a screwdriver. Part of you revs up and moves really quickly to get out of there because you know if you wait long enough and the arms fully unfold, they can touch you and then part of you belongs in the black corner in the basement. Then it will be very hard to be normal again. You will wake up in the middle of the night, and you won’t be able to get back to sleep because you will worry about all the things you have done wrong and how you are hurting people. You can’t get this out of your mind now and you think that maybe if you count and envision each number in your head as you say it in your mind; you can block some of the bad thoughts. Or maybe you can pray—say the Lord’s Prayer over and over and over and God will surely be there to help you because you are saying his prayer. But it doesn’t help. God doesn’t give a fuck when you are miserable—he doesn’t care if you pray. You can pray until there is blood dripping out of your mouth and nothing will change. God is an asshole that way. Even a relatively rotten person will assist you if you are begging for help. But your thoughts will just revolve through your mind over and over until you want to take a gun like the lead in Fight Club and shoot them out of your head. Maybe someday you will, but for now, you are trying to figure why God is such a jerk-off and you have to live like this. You wonder why you feel forsaken—well it’s probably because you have been forsaken and you don’t know how to live in that state. Because when you are a kid somebody probably told you everything would be all right, and now you realize they lied. So you keep lying to yourself, telling yourself it’s not such a big deal, but actually it is. Because now the dark corners in your basement have started to get darker. And bigger. The arms get longer and longer and pretty soon there won’t be anywhere you can go where they can’t touch you. So you start to drink or take pills or do some other kind of drug so you can’t tell when you get touched. But now the problem is you get touched all the time, but you don’t know it. At least now you don’t care.