Life in a Haunted House

I collect 'haunted' artifacts.   I think it started with an antique sax.  Or it could have started when I dreamt of a little boy dying in a fire.  I followed the instructions in my dream and found a scorched frame with his picture in it.  Most recently, it began again with a 'haunted' 1/3 ct diamond someone gave me because they were scared of it.  I mean, if someone offered you bling out of fear, would you take it?   I mean, it was a win-win situation.  She was happy to be rid of something I welcomed. 

People give me their creepy jewelry, dolls, drawings, books, photos, and on one occasion a 1920s era radio.  Some of them have energy, others don't.  Once in a while descendants of a deceased practicing witch will send me all of their relative's jewelry in a charging box just to be free of the items.  It scares them.  It's easy to find entire communities of paranormal investigators and collectors online. 

Most witches are said to have lockets in which they cast all of their spells.  They, then, right those spells in a book of shadows in order to keep track of them so that they can reverse them if necessary.  The lockets are said to be incredibly lucky.  I do have a few.  My favorite has a picture of a puppy in it.  I was expecting a black cat but, hey, that would have been stereotypical now. 

The worst thing I ever received was a ring with a note from a lady claiming that the ring had the spirit of her deceased aunt on it.  I didn't feel anything from it.  I guess it made her feel better knowing that it would go to someone who would care for it. 

The best thing I've ever received, well that is hard to say.  I do have funky bracelet that was said to bring men to women.  It's brass.  It's vintage.  It's pretty... but once a daughter's boyfriend hit on me in front of my ex and sent me a filthy message on FB, I put it away...for good!

There is a Djinn ring that makes me dream of the Bible and Koran.  I'll dream of every sin I commit and want to make amends.  That's a fun one to have as I find myself praying compulsively when I wear it.   If someone could conjure an Islamic spirit, I guess it would be hyper-religious.  I do have quite a disdain for the wars we wage in the middle-east and have found myself speaking out against them in several occasions since acquiring the piece.  Maybe it has something to do with it? 

I'm also an INFJ...maybe it has nothing to do with my constant b!tching about our unfair gov't.  I don't know.

Maybe, on second thought, I like the holy water the most.
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My house appears to be haunted as well.  House guests often complain about doorhandles which move on their own, doors which fling open on their own, TVs and radios turn themselves off and on (unless I unplug them), I've had people leave after seeing alleged ghostly men in the back yard, and they complain about the temperature. 

The first time people complained, I ran out and bought a ton of co2 detectors thinking something in the house was making them hallucinate.  Nothing stopped.


On the hottest day in the summer, you will need a jacket in this house.  There is no air conditioning, yet I often have to wear a sweater in August. In the dead of winter, one will find it warmer to go outside than to stay in the house.

Now whenever something bad happens to a person I connected to maternal side of the family, the music boxes go off on their own.  I always know to start calling my relative chain the moment those things start playing. 

Life can be crazy here. 

Now, usually, the spirits like peace and quiet.  They like religious worship.  The like classical music and they like spiritual activity.   They don't mind missionaries.  They like frankincense and myrrh.  The house usually smells like Christmas when I clean up my ex's messes.  When I don't, the house smells like butt crack. 

Today was weird.


A couple of Jehovah Witnesses came to the door.  The moment the door was answered, they began preaching, asking very prying questions about our family and giving off a creepy vibe. 

The music boxes started going off all by themselves. 

The visitors quickly left. 

Sometimes it is good to live in a haunted house. 

Every day in this house is Halloween. 

Maybe I'll tell you my adventures with a nasty thought I had while holding one of the bizarre wishing rings.  I think it came true.  I'll probably share it with on Día de los Muertos and let you be the judge.   In my house, I've learned only to think positive thoughts.  

Life is weird. 

Love ya,

S.

Dead Man's B-Day Party

My parents died when I was fourteen. My mother died on her 36th birthday. I found out about my father's death a few months later and, at that moment, I decided to live life - not sit around like a mundane person.

I always considered mundane people dead.

Today is the birthday of a man who took me on a 500 mile trip to visit his mother. Upon arriving, his mother gave me a wedding dress, a ring and I fled from the minister. Our first day there involved extracating me from a locked bathroom with the promise of an annulment.  I was nineteen.  He was twenty-five.

He talked me out the annulment. A few days later, after his vehicle broke down in Idaho and we had to wait for a mechanic to arrive, I offerred to give him the one thing I thought men wanted. At the time, I was as vegan as I could be and on that day, I was going to overlook the animal byproduct.

He was grossed out by that!

I kid you not!

I was not supposed to do what later became termed as "that thing in Idaho".

We were married eighteen months.  He destroyed my guitars in fits of rage.  My family warned him, the day her Dad's Peavy is gone, is the day Siegfred is gone. 

He didn't listen. 

One Christmas, he was pissed that I woke up early to practice.  He grabbed my Dad's guitar and Hendrixed it.  I still have some of the pieces.  My musician friends found me a replacement but the serial number on the new bass is huge!  It's not the same. 

The man beat me horrendously.  Once it was because I was dirty minded; he would claim that I made a better mistress than a wife.  The only thing he said I was good for was an arm ornament.

In November of '91, he went to a bar and found a man who dated me one night several years before.  He brought the guy home and let the guy recount how he took me to a bar in '87.  I refused to drink and then took me to a hotel where I refused to get involved with him.  I barely remember making an excuse about needing to go to work and left.

My then-husband said that he found proof that I was using 'sex as a weapon' against men.  The sad truth was that, at the time the man dated me, I had realized that I had feelings for the man I would eventually marry.  No man had a chance to get me in bed, except the object of my affections.

This did not soothe my ex. 

Those two actually beat me that night.  My ex threw me down and raped me in front of the guy.  I lost consciousness.  Upon awakening I grabbed our baby daughter, my 5-string Steinberger, and left.  

He stalked me for years.  The courts threw out my restraining order and the cops couldn't do much.  He'd use visitation as an opportunity to cop a feel.  He wouldn't visit with our daughter unless I were present.

The man would tamper with my car and tell me what was wrong with it.  He'd hide in the back seat when I picked our daughter up from the daycare.

The windows on my apartment would get broken.  Things were missing. 

Of course, he wouldn't pay child support or share our money.  He called his game  'starving the spouse' saying that 'all is fair in love and war'.  Yet, he always took the tax deductions. 

I ended up changing my entire name and moving.  I asked for court ordered supervised exchanges.  It helped.  When he couldn't see me anymore, he stopped visiting until he remarried.   He found me in '97 and his wife began the contact. 

His new wife would call me asking for advice on how to deal with this person.  I don't know.  If I could deal with him, I'd probably be married to him...still. 

Sadly, I recognized her as the woman I would catch in our apartment during our marriage.  He married his mistress and she doesn't look good in black n' blue.

She used to be an actress.  She was the damsel in distress in most of the plays at the local opera house.  She was once so beautiful. The stress of the years were not a friend to her. 

I see their pictures from time to time on Facebook.  I feel so sad for them.  I feel sorry for their mundane life. 

I wonder what it would be like living a dead man's party. 

Oh, and to this day, when he hears my name he has no clue who I am.  I'm in the papers a lot.  I'm on the news.  He has no clue.  He tells our daughter that I'm a lazy woman who doesn't do a damn thing. 

Ha! 

What a dolt! 

It's his birthday.  I hope that he can find an adventure that doesn't involve beating a woman unconscious.  We're much more fun functional and awake.   But then, what would a mundane man know about that?

Cheers,

S.

I Need a Hobby

Today I went to the store with my ex in an effort to repair our financial train wreck.  I wanted to bounce some ideas off of him for increasing the income and decreasing our expenditures. 

The D-word does come up, but he doesn't want that.  I think its the only way but he wants to try repairing the economic damage before fixing the marital woes.  After eleven years semi-separated, I'm not sure the relationship can be salvaged.  I'd like to end this without condemning either one of us to a life of poverty and alimony.  

I think I'm too late. 

I learned that he makes $1,200 per month now.  I reasoned that I could easily make the same amount without risking an alimony assignment in the event of our divorce.  So, I decided that I'm going to start selling my art and recordings online. 

I spent some time looking at art supplies before I had the thought I should ask him if he knew a female tattoo artist. 

Why?

Well, I designed my bizarre interpretation of the symbol of Venus intertwined with a unique symbol for Mars and wanted to wear it...permanently. 

He couldn't get the concept so I drew it for him, on his hand.  The symbols are intertwined in such a way that Mars is piercing Venus.  Rather than circles at the top, they are swirls which mimic hearts.  I'm trying to give the hearts horns (ala the symbol for Mercury) but haven't decided if it is too much

It looks cooler than it sounds. 

Why did I need to have a female tattoo artist?

I asked him to think about it.

It took him a few minutes but, as I spent time looking for thigh high hosiery, I heard him curse a few isles over.  I tracked him down looking at the candles....aww, he's such a romantic at heart. 

"What was that damn girl statement, all about?",  I asked. 

I really shouldn't have asked. 

I need a hobby.  Flirting with my exes really isn't fair, is it? 

Nothing came of that.  Nothing ever does. 

This is why I'm going to hell.

And, maybe, I'll just tattoo myself with henna to see if I can stand how it looks.   It'll fade before anyone gets to see it anyway. 

There are some distinct advantages to being alone. 

Love ya,

S.

Life is Too Short

My ex says that he wants me to stay in this house.  If I do that, I need to bring money into the house just to pay the mortgage.  This would involve talking to him about ways to do that.  He walked away. 

Why?  Oh...

I finally get it!

He must truly want me to leave!!   The man doesn't want to be the bad guy so he's trying to get me to leave. 

I mean over the course of the past few years I've discovered that...

• He won't bathe.
• He won't clean up after himself; legal documents from the city litter the basement floor.  I am half tempted to scan them and post them all online in my anger at being blamed for his job loss.
• He throws his garbage all over the house to the point it stinks.
• He gossips about me.
• He won't talk to me.
• He walks away from important conversations pertaining to financial planning and money.
• He won't cooperate with me and will tell me this much.
• He won't look for a full-time job.
• He won't cooperate enough for me to hold a job; something will always happen to keep me here.
• He gained over 100 pounds over the course of the past three years.  He wasn't thin to begin with.  I've never seen him under 330 pounds.  He went from a 42" waist to 54". 

It's the last one that really, really bugs me.  If he has gained that much weight just to turn me off, it could potentially kill him. 

The most compassionate thing I could possibly do is start packing. 

I am running for the highest elected office in the city in which I live.  I did this as a political favor to someone.  It was completely unrelated to any experience I had with the city: I owed someone a favor and took the opportunity to repay it.

After announcing my intentions to run, I was harassed mercilessly by a city attorney.  A couple of weeks later I received an email from my ex's former boss.  The email claims she fired him for being fat.

Over the course of the past few years, the lady slandered me to no end, she's had her boyfriend (a local cop) harass me to the point I felt paranoid, and she has threatened my business to the point I have to rent an office in another jurisdiction just to give away my work for free.  

She originally claimed she fired my ex because I had a master's degree and because she thought I was battered.  I've never met this woman in my life.  If she fired her employee due to his weight, she should have simply said that.  That's better than firing him over gossip about me.  She should never have invoked me during his termination process nor should she have brought me up in the unemployment hearing.

I am thankful she has stayed quiet throughout the campaign.  I was only quizzed once in a forum about a payout but I think I handled it well.  I have been trying to solicit the public to accept workplace changes that will benefit my husband's former boss and other employees.  I've contacted the unions and asked the front runner to look at making changes. 

I haven't yet spoken about the $450,000 quotas the department has; rather I'm focusing on getting the politicians to commit to getting rid of certain taxes and fees that drive business out of the city.  After the campaign, I'll start publishing the information I have about the quotas and the remarks made from former auditors talking about how they were told to bend the rules to meet those quotas.  Bending the tax code has chased many small businesses out of our city. 

One of the things that the voters want is an increase in jobs and tax revenue; we could do that by ending the tax licensing/audit department's war on small business.

There is a reason to my madness but, I do, find myself speechless at the city building.  It's like my mind blanks out when I feel the emotion of being lied about by the city lawyers.   It is difficult for me to face the people who destroyed my life with their slander.  The more I give speeches in the building, the easier it becomes. 

As far as my ex...unless he starts talking to me soon, I will be forced to move out. 

He needs to forgive me for his perception that I cost him his job at the city. 

I can't stay in a house with someone fighting such dark demons. 

If the darkness can't yield to the light, I am going to have to leave.

Life is too short.

Love,

S.

How to Check Out a Woman

About a month ago I was at a picnic and this man who I've known as a "Facebook friend" for a few years shows up unexpectedly. 


He knew who I was on sight.  Upon his arrival he walks right up to me and starts up a conversation. 

This man lives in the city in which I am politically active.  Someone who lived next door to him was murdered.  He is shaken and rightfully wants to know what to do to make the city safer. 

I promise to get him the contact information for his councilperson and check with the PD.

That day, there were so many bees at this picnic and they seemed to like swarming around my red hair. I pick up my pocketbook and let him know that I'm heading down to the hardware store to get something to deter those dastardly stingy buggers.

He offers to drive me.  In the car, things get a little...uh... warm.  He wants to know about my private life and I decline to answer.  At some point, he turns bright red and stops staring at me.   

We return to the picnic and I end up in a politically heated conversation with a mayoral candidate and two city councilmen from another town.  The man leaves.  He emails me the next day to remind me of his issue. 

I check into it for him and end up uncovering something else that I have to deal with. 

I let him know. 

A couple of days later, I get a phone call from a friend of his saying that it was important that I meet with him soon.  He was sketchy on the details but claimed it would help him network in the community and that my "friend" from the picnic said that I knew just about everybody.

So...I met with my Facebook friend's friend in a coffee shop today.  He claims to be an insurance salesman who knows this guy from Facebook.

Guess what he wanted to know?

• My age...
• My marital status...
• When my separation became official...
• When my divorce will become final...
• The name of my lawyer...
• My debt load....
• Plans for moving...
• How many kids live with me....then how many kids I have..
• My work history...
• My plans for the future...
• Whether or not any kids are going to live with me after the divorce...
• If I plan on traveling a lot after I'm divorced ...
• How much money I had in the bank....
• How much money I make...
• and so on...and so on...

So, I kinda told the truth.  Things are up in the air and I don't have a lot of information for him.

At the end, the salesman told me that my friend was worried about my situation but had no clue how bad things were.  I guess that was one way of having his questions answered.  And no, he did not provide me with any literature on insurance products. 

Of course, on the way home I thought of all those things I should have said.

When asking about my debt load, I could have lied and said that I owe a small mint for plastic surgery on private parts.

I should have told him about my stint as a salesperson at the local saddle shop (where I sold leather and various types of whips).

Then, I should have asked if death due to S & M accidents were covered under any insurance policy.  

Life is weird. 

I have to tell you that I really, truly hate Facebook now.  If I can't talk to a person in the real world, I am unsure if I want to deal with him in cyberspace.

Love ya,

S.

Be Careful What You Wish For

So....

Am I to blame for my current predicament? 

I'm wondering....

Three years ago I wished that a certain lawmaker would fix a problem that cost me over $80,000, so that no one else would ever be stuck where I am.  Now, I'm finding myself face to face with the next person to hold that job on nearly a daily basis. 

How in the heck did that happen? 

Hmmmm....I have no freakin' idea. 

It's weird. 

In fact, I did everything in my power not to be put in this situation. 

I wonder....

I do collect bizarre artifacts from people who inherit creepy things and are afraid of them.  I don't know if I ever want to share them with the world and they are the main reasons I will probably never date.  No man wants to be with a a woman who collects things from haunted houses and the decendants of witches. 

Most of the objects are benign.  Others, though, are a little freaky. 

I have hundreds of things.  My favorites are the ones said to contain Djinn.  Maybe I could do a tiny experiment and when I re-publish all 700 of my previous posts we can see how this worked out. Let me make three wishes and see what comes true.

Hmmmm.....

I wish for....

I wish for....

Darn it....

I've got nothing. 

I mean if I wish for world peace, I'd be afraid we'd all die.  If I wished for an end to our economic crisis, the currency may just well collapse.  

I'll just leave it well enough alone and pray for the best. 

Love ya,

S. 

P.S.  Okay....hmmmm....I'll give it a go.  What would do little harm? 

Maybe little wishes would do little harm. 

So....

1. I wish my ex could get a job he truly wants (I won't specify which ex, so I'm not responsible for any evil backlash).

2. I wish my ex could get the chick he truly wants (again, not to specify...)

3. I wish to be able to refrain from complaining outloud the next time I catch a wanna be politician lying to me. 

O.K.  That last one will easily come true.  I pinch myself when they lie to me.  No one listens to me.  They don't know that lies are easily discovered simply by looking into ones eyes and listening to their voices. 

If you look at my arm, its full of bruises. 

Let's see how the other two come true.  I'll know...they'll be too busy to annoy the heck out of me. 

My sleep patterns have been destroyed over the past four years and $80K loss.  The less sleep I get, the more bizarre my writing gets.  I'm going to try to get more than four hours of sleep tonight in the hopes that it will help my writing be more coherent. 

If not...well...the blog does freak out my ex.  Maybe some day he'll offer to buy me psychiatric medication and a snuggy blanket.  Or, better yet, he'll help me and my creepy haunted things move out. 

Just teasing....

Maybe....

Someday, I'll have to research magical thinking and the power of the placebo effect.  There has got to be a rational explanation for the weird things going on in this house. 

Until then....

BOO!



Now, it's off to sleep so I don't write any creepy, bizarre, non-sensical blog entries.  I miss making sense.

Lessons

I've been spending some time hanging out with lawmakers.  A local politician keeps asking me if I'm learning anything. 

Yeppers, I have. 

I've learned a lot about gun toting conservatives.  I have come to the realization that they come up with their political campaign strategies at the pub while half snookered out of their gourds. 

But if I tell them what I've learned, they'd probably shoot me.   

This country is doomed. 

Pray hard.

Love ya,

S.

The Black Cauldron

I'm really tired.

I'm really pissed. 

I'm really trying hard not to be bad. 

This past month was a total nightmare. 

I guess my frenemies did me a favor not letting me move out of this city.  Today I found out my eldest daughter is in an abusive relationship and will probably need to move back home. 

So, now I not only have to find a way to support my ex but now my daughter and grandaughter.

If one more man drops the ball on his responsibilities and expects me to pick up the slack, I'm going to grab my collection of voodoo dolls, my black pins and my cauldron. 

Yep, I swore of the black magick stuff a long, long time ago.  The last spell I cast was in '08 after a city councilperson wrote to me telling me that the mayor won't let any of them talk to me.  

Yep, I blogged about it here...I called it the Jezebel Curse. 

I cursed the ol' mayor.  In fact, I cursed anyone sitting in his office with complete and total transparency.  Nothing gets past the public. 

Sure enough, over the past three years, various groups have sprung up all over town making information available to the public.  Now, that I've met our latest mayoral prospects I feel a little bit guilty for what I did. 

Wanna guess how I met the candidates?  I threw my hat in the ring, too! 

Thankfully, I built in a remedy.  I wanted to be sure to break the curse should the public have the displeasure of hearing really gross private information about said mayor.  I was afraid we'd learn about his warts, his itchy parts and any other disgusting appetite supressing information.  You know, we don't want too much information. 

I felt we did need an out...you know, just in case people were throwing up all over town.
 
The truth is that I'm planning on helping the new mayor break the curse.  It's easy...he won't even know what hit him.  All I have to do is give the new mayor a gift. 

But holy crud...if another nasty, lazy man pisses me off only heaven can help him.

My demons are restless. 

Love ya,

S.