Warnings from Beyond

I had a dream of my grandfather.

I was raised by my grandparents.  My parents lived with them.  My parents were hippies.  They were crazy artist types.  They weren't very stable nor very kid friendly. 

I spent most of my time with my redheaded grandma and my quiet and reserved grandpa. 

When grandma spoke, people trembled. 

When grandpa spoke, people listened. 

When I was a baby, I liked grapes.  One of my earliest memories was standing out in the backyard with my grandfather planting a grape vine.  He gave me toy gardening tools and said I called him a 'dumb bunny'.  It was spring.  There is a picture of me on a motorized rabbit scooter type toy. 

I don't think I called grandpa the dumb bunny but, nonetheless, for the next twenty-seven years he would chuckle about that. 

When I was five, we sat at the kitchen table eating peaches.  I asked him why people had no food if we could grow peaches from the seeds.  He planted two peach trees, one with his seed and one with mine. 

The tree first bore fruit when I was ten.   He gave the fruit away once it came.  We spent days canning it.  We canned peaches, made preserves, even grape jelly.  I miss those days. 

We grew raspberries, strawberries and rhubarb, too.  The back yard was lined in pink roses with little pockets of daisy's to play with. It was a little girl's paradise. 

When he had a stroke, my greedy uncle sold the house out from under him.  I tried to get a loan to buy it back for him but I didn't earn enough money.    It was a big house. 

I loved my grandpa. 

He had blue eyes and glowed neon when he was happy.  The first boy I fell in love with had the same quality. 

Grandpa liked that boy.  I never told him when we broke up, I just quit bringing my friend over.  For years, my relatives would ask about him (not caring who was in the room...this led to quite a few marital spats). 

Every man I brought home after that was met with disapproval and a comparison to my best friend from high school. 

Grandpa wasn't very thrilled when I got married.  He didn't say much about it only that I was investing far too much time with my fiancee's family and not enough time doing what made me happy. 

Grandpa knew. 

I wish I would have listened. 

I gave up college to stay in town after Grandpa was diagnosed with cancer.  My grandmother had died just a few months before and it was easy to see the pain in his face.  I would visited him three times a week and moved a couple of blocks away.  It was hard to be apart from him.  We were always so close. 

He died shortly after my twenty-ninth birthday.  I've always felt lost without him. 

He visits me in my dreams and tells me what to expect. 

I've learned not to ignore him. 

He'll warn me about stuff, tell me when to see the doctor, when to fix the car, where to invest money... when I ignore the dreams bad stuff happens.


In '06, he told me he would bring my old friend back to visit to talk some sense into me.  He told me that it was being set up with my friend's father and a woman (an aunt?)....I don't know.  He gives the name 'Robinson'.  I don't know what that means....but I write it all down for later reference. 

In '07, he told me that my friend was doing drugs and drinking a lot.  I was supposed to get licensed as a drug counselor in order to understand the pain my friend was enduring.  I did my best to follow through...but...life got in the way. 

I have a dream diary where I document the dreams. 

The last one I had was a little freaky (and funny). 

In this dream, I'm visiting with him and several deceased relatives.  My mom, my dad, my step-dad and my aunt are there.  They are telling me to start taking my vitamins again.  I need to take garlic (the stinky kind) as, they claim, it will solve a lot of problems. 

In the dream, I'm confused and asked my grandfather to expound upon the situation.  He shows me a scene in which I die in a hospital due to a blood clot.  I am forty-four. 

There is a man by my bedside. 

Grandpa will not tell me who the man is because, he says, it will only make me run away from him when I meet him. 

Grandpa knows me. 

He says that the man brings me to the hospital for reasons he will not disclose. 

Now, I'm curious, so I ask.... 

"Grandpa, am I there because of chest pains?" 

"No. You're there because you're stupid and selfish."

"Oh." 

Apparently, I die in childbirth.  

I get horny.  I don't take birth control.  I pay the price and ruin some poor guy's life in the process. 

This is why, according to my grandfather, I must take two garlic pills and an aspirin every day. 

At this point in my dream, I start laughing. 

"So, Grandpa...are you saying that I must take tons and tons of garlic to make me smell so bad that no man will ever touch me?  That ought to work!"

"Some one's being silly."  Grandpa always used to say that to me.....all the time.

I miss him.   

At this point, another aunt walks into the room.  She is a living aunt. 

I look at her and ask, 'What are you doing here?" 

"Well..." she replies "I had a waxing job go bad and let my skin get infected.  I never got help and ended up dying from it." 

femi-nazi, bra-avoiding, hairy legged, hippie chicks who would never go to a salon for any reason. 

She called me today. 

She was going to get waxed but decided against it after I told her about the dream. 

Now, I'm freaking out. 



I'll truly end up freaked out if his windows are busted. 



I'm still avoiding those awful, smelly garlic tabs. 

Ick!!

I'd take my chances with the blood clot.   I mean, really....I'm not going to get knocked up at my age.  

If I'm that dumb, I've got worse things to worry about than thick blood.

I'd be worried about senility.

Love,

S.

Ginger Crash

I could live on ginger. 

I love ginger tea. 

I cut off slices of ginger to eat for lunch. 

I give myself dizzying blood sugar spikes with sugar coated ginger slices. 

Yum! 

So, when I saw Ginger flavoring at the liquor store I mentioned that I was interested in it. 

When the man in the basement is mean to me, he buys me cheap gifts.  Last night, my gift was Ginger flavoring to stir into vodka or to cook with. 

So....being in pain from trying to talk to him and worrying about what to do next, I found myself unable to sleep. 

I got myself a wine glass and filled it half full of vodka and topped it off with the ginger flavoring.  Starting about 10:00 p.m., I took a sip every half-hour I couldn't sleep.  Somewhere around 3:30 a.m., I polished off the glass and awoke at 5:30 with the headache of a lifetime.   

It's 9:00 p.m. and I'm still in pain. 

I'm in really bad pain. 

My head aches.  My stomach aches.  I can barely move.  I can barely see.

I think I have alcohol poisoning. 

After eight hours of trying to avoid any light, I found my way to the computer where I Googled the name on the bottle. 

It is ginger flavored vodka. 

I thought it would cut the strength of my usual drink of choice...nope, I effectively doubled it. 

I drink to chase away crazy nightmares. 

I'd rather suffer horrible dreams than feel like this. 

Love ya,

Stupid S.

Strange Love

Well....

The man in the basement wants me to stay and help with the kids. 

He says this is so because he loves me but refuses to speak to me about my holding a job or finishing my education. 

The conversation ended with him getting angry and sulking. 

It always does....

That's how we never talk. 

I'll want to resolve an issue and he'll feign anger. 

It's a passive aggressive thing. 

I need to leave. 

He wants me to stay to help with the kids. 

My life is passing me by. 

He swears he's not 500 pounds.  I don't know his weight as the scale broke when he hit 350. 

At 350, he had a 44" waist.  He has a 54" waist now. 

I need to get the skills necessary to support the household on my own. 

If I don't work....the kids won't get what they need. 

He's not taking care of his health. 

I'm terrified he's going to die. 

I've got to step up. 

If I can't do it here then I've got to leave. 

I hurt....very badly. 

Today, I told him that I can't do another year of celibacy. 

I told him that I'm having bad thoughts. 

He told me not to let the kids see. 

There is nothing for them to see. 

He's assuming that I'm getting my needs met here with someone else.  What the holy heck is he thinking?   

There is no one.  I'm hiding from my crush just so that I can continue to say that I'm a good person. 

I am thinking of buying a trailer and moving it from camping site to camping site just to get the hell out of here and still be available to help him with the kids.  Beyond that, I don't have a clue what to do.

The lawyers want me to take the house. 

I don't want bad karma. 


Besides, I could never be with anyone else in this house. 

I've got to move. 


What to do.....what to do...

The question of the day for me is how in the hell did I get here? 

Let's see...

Mother-in-law problems. 

If mommy doesn't like you, the marriage dies. 

It's been dead since '99. 

I'm wearing out my welcome. 

My Republican buddies convinced me to stay and keep my promise. 

I did. 

Why can't he keep his promises to me? 

It'll be another long night in tears...

I want to move. 

This place is so crazy. 

I'm going crazy. 

Help me. 

I'll pray to my Deity at midnight tonight.

I can't be expected to continue living like this.  I can't help anyone if my life is in such shambles. 


Love ya,

S.

Subliminal Stupid

Say....

You're sitting at the bar and the guy who smells like he hasn't seen a shower in weeks is grabbing at your crotch. 

Why is he pitching a tent? 

Oh..crap...

He doesn't understand the word "NO!" and he is taking the phrase "F-CK YOU" a little too literally. 

What to do....

What to do....

Hmmmmm....


You didn't bring a date, did ya? 

Oh my....

And you're not a hypnotist and can't make him think he has to pee....

And you don't have the nerve to passionately kiss a girl and say you're a lesbian. 

You don't want to slap him because you'll end up getting bailed out. 

How are you going to get out of this one? 

How did you get into it in the first place?

Did you check your shoes? 

Unlike the shoes Dorothy wore, when you click your feet together you're flashing the word "SEX" to all the perverts in the room to see. 

That's why they can't stop thinking about sex...

with you...

You should have worn the red glittery pumps. 

Here is the deal. 
Subliminal garbage works. 

I play with visual subliminals all the time. 

All the freakin' time...

It's so easy to put words into the backgrounds of artwork.  You know it works when men can't walk after looking at your stuff. 

Heck, my marriage has been one twenty year seduction.  The past four years, though, have been unintentional. 

If you want it to last....that's what you do....you seduce...you change it up....you make him want to play.   If you want it to die, you best learn to act like a quiet old lady whose vagina has fallen out.  I'm having trouble with the latter. 

The problem is that I haven't figured out how to change all my old habits. 

I still catch myself.....don't wear vanilla lotion.  Don't grin.  Don't sing Cole Porter songs in his presence.  Don't forget the padded bras.  Always were a shirt under your low cut blouses.

One of these days I'll be too old and saggy to give the guy in the basement watery eyes. 

About the shoes....

if you want a guy to dig in

there are better ways to get his attention. 

Let me help you...

Cinnamon....

Vanilla....

Nutmeg...

Or better yet, make yourself feel like a seductive goddess (don't make me tell you how to do that).

Men can smell arousal and the available ones clamor for it.   

Make sure you play that game with guys who are your age and have the same hobbies, otherwise you'll be chasing away babies.  Younger men are more attuned to it for some reason. 

If you smell like Christmas, they can't get enough...

You'll remind them of

warm memories, happy days, cold nights that need snuggling...

It works like a charm.

I'm allergic to cinnamon, so it has become my bargain botox.  One swipe of that crap and my wrinkles blow themselves inside out.  Rub a green grape on the wrinkle, go to sleep and I look ten years younger the next day. 

When I talk to the man in the basement, I get one angry wrinkle and three worried wrinkles (six after he aspixiated his chicken and left it gasping for blood flow....that poor, poor, man).  The next day I looked calm and relaxed as I begged him to see a urologist.

Using the cinnamon, I can end up with guy buddies if I don't rinse my face well.   The last time I went to a mall, someone asked me if I wanted a Cinnamon roll. 

I wonder where he got that idea.

And...sadly...I had to say NO lest he call an ambulance!


Love,

S.

And....Cole Porter Karaoke and a slinky red dress with a plunging neckline and 5" red strappy heels can work to get men, too...

but....only if you can sing...and use the microphone as a mini stripper pole at the same time.

I like Karaoke.  I get lots and lots of food thrown at me that way....

it saves on groceries. 

Hey...don't laugh...I never had to use food stamps.  There are other ways. 

Toy Karma

The toy....

I think it was for me. 

It was my favorite color....

Lime Green. 

Yep....

Why is lime green my favorite color? 

Well....

that's due to stupid, youthful, dumb hypnosis and an insecure guy who thought I'd get bored of him. 

When I see the color, I scream. 

It came in handy when he wanted to thrill me without the ability to touch me. 

It worked until he got caught lying about money and refused to talk to me about working.

Well...it still works.  He doesn't know that.   The entire house is painted with designs of that color. 

Nothing happens here....nothing...nada....zip...zilch...

A man I've known since I was a kid caught me moaning at the doorway of a sandwich shop.  He hustled me outside and offered me a cigarette.  He always knew how to help me see the funny side of life.  

Another hypnotist offered to cure me of it....I didn't let him.  He did help me overcome what happens when I walk barefoot....although there is still some grinning about that on Skype.

It was far worse that the green thing...

They are going to drag me to the beach during the next convention....just watch. 

I'll never tell.  He promised to tell the world if I'm ever dumb enough to run for office again as to put a chill on any political aspirations I may develop in the future. 

It's good... it has to do with unintentionally anchoring something great doing something really, really, really fun.  When my feet were touched, I felt that again. 

It doesn't happen now.

On Sunday, the man in the basement used his Paypal account to pay $100 or so for the candles and oils for a religious ritual.  My credit was smashed during his latest game, so I had to use his account to pay. 

He said that since we were still married and because he would benefit from what I was doing, he should pay for it but I disagreed and I gave him cash I earned to buy something for himself.   It would be untraceable, so he could buy anything. 

The agreement was that he had to buy something for him and no one else.  If he starts attending to his own needs, maybe....just maybe....he'll start taking care of himself. 

Well...

there is a lime green pump in the basement. 

I don't want to say what I saw....

when I was somewhere that I should not have been. 

I'm terrified by what I saw....

It can't be healthy....

I think it lost its blood flow. 

I briefly saw something underneath his belly. 

It was ghostly white...almost neon.  The room was dark, yet I could see this white ball glowing in the darkness where his stuff could be. 

I asked him if he was wearing a rain jacket or other prop....he said he wasn't. 

Then I felt scared. 


I shrieked at him and, embarrassed, asked him to check on his friend. 

Oh, no....

I'm worried he's going to have nerve damage....

serves him right for not paying the bills and lying to me about it. 

Well, no it doesn't. 

Nerve damage means he's not going to find my replacement and that I'll be stuck here forever. 

So...

yes...

I am praying for his penis. 

Maybe I need to set up an altar to Priapus. 

I don't know...


He's laughing at me. 

Forgive me..... 

It's my fault for taking him with me when looking for jade marbles. 

I blame myself. 

I am probably going to stay here due to the guilt, huh? 

If he can't plow, who is going to do his dishes or wash his clothes? 

I need therapy. 

This is going beyond codependent. 


Today....

I left the house to go to the thrift shop.  I want a vintage white lace dress. 

There was a guy that resembled another ex making eyes at me.  He'd look at me, drop his head and stare at his shoes before looking back up.   He'd follow me but always kept a safe distance two isles away, his tall head bobbing up and down to keep tabs on me. 

He was too young for me but still I let him play. 

I perused the store, looking at the china, a Yamaha saxophone with a super nice case, and the one thing that made me laugh so hard that I had to leave the store...

Do you want to know what I saw? 

I saw a box of medical pumps and another box of  huge syringes.  My thought was why buy a pump or a syringe....all one has to do is find a woman willing to play the part of a vacuum and viola...it's all pumped up! 

I was grinning like a bad redhead. 

What a nightmare. 

The guy followed me to the supermarket but I couldn't contain myself. 

I had to go home. 

Life is weird.

Love,

S.

Lonely Tonight

I'm now a size ten and, luckily, managed to keep my 36Ds without having them hang down too my toes. 

I swore off blue jeans and baggy tops.  I've decided to stop dressing like a man and start dressing like a female.

I dug into my silk dress collection and fancy shoes. 

Now, the man in the basement is in love. 

At least he says he is...for now.  I don't know. 

He follows me around in public.  He grabs at me.  He's tried to kiss me. 

It feels weird. 

The last time he went to a bar with me, another guy tried to take me home and he didn't let up until the bartender called him a cab.  It was so awkward.  It's that freakin' obvious we don't belong together.  My ex laughs about that.  I avoid going out with him now. 

We go shopping for the kids and that is the extent of our together time. 

Now, he grabs me in public.  He's wearing a fake wedding ring. 

He bought a....a.....a....cheapy toy that....[thankfully] doesn't work from the fluffy bunny pervert shop.  I....uh...think it was meant for me. 

H..E..L..P!! 
He's a good guy....but....he doesn't understand me. 

I can't sit home and look pretty. 

I've got to do something. 

I can't do this anymore. 

I'm sad...

I've spent the past few weeks in tears. 

I don't know what to do. 

I'm avoiding sleep. 

The dreams are getting filthy and I'm feeling guilty. 

He's not the man in my dreams.

I think I know who the man in my dreams is. 

All day long I've been beating myself up for it. 

Why? 

Why do I love my childhood friend so much? 

What does he offer that I'm not getting here? 

It's not lustful.  We didn't have that kind of relationship. 

We were close. 

We weren't filthy or anything. 

We were close without being too dirty. 

Then it hit me....

I miss his friendship. 

I miss our unconditional love. 

I miss the beauty in puppy love, the devotion, the loving for the sake of loving, the listening for the sake of listening and the being together just because...

it felt comfortable. 

Maybe if I realize why I still love him....

I can figure out how to get that here so that I don't look at him with longing eyes the next time we meet.

We'll see. 

For what it is worth, I think Tom has become my crutch that keeps me honest. 

I've been hiding at home since Mike broke my heart in February.  For years, we've been talking about divorce.  He'd let me leave after he found a job.  Then he wanted me to stay until after he settled a lawsuit with the city.  Then I needed to stay until he made a living wage.  Then I had to stay until after my political run was done for good.

I promised to stay to help with the kids while he hid the money and ruined my credit without telling me.  It was a couple of bankers that clued me in to what was going on. 

I was just about to sign a lease on a new office when....the money was gone. 

If only I had left in '08 when the lies started to get bad...if only I wasn't an idiot.   I should've left in '07 when he started calling me his ex. 

It's too late for that now. 

I can't leave now. 

How will I get an apartment? 

How will I rent another office. 


I'm going to have to wait this one out.

I'm in pain.  My friends see it and two of them are pressing me to spend more time with them. 

One is a high school friend I refused to date back in the day. 

Another is a politically active pagan that I feel a kinship with. 

They have let me know they are interested.  My excuse for staying away is that I have feelings for someone else.  I never clue them into the fact that this someone else is a man who hasn't kissed me for twenty-five years, lives across the country, and any feelings he has for me are figments of my imagination. 

Still, the man in my dreams has become my excuse for not destroying my conscience. 

Perhaps, I should be thankful for the creepy dreams.  So long as he's not hanging around and knows nothing of them....what harm can they do?

They are keeping me honest. 

I am lonely. 

Sleeping alone is killing me. 

Celibacy is killing me. 

I never touched a drop of alcohol before 2008. 

I should stop drinking. 

Alcohol does help me sleep. 

It also makes me wrinkle. 

I'll try to fall asleep sometime this morning.  If the dreams are fun, I'll post as I have nothing better to do right now. 

Without a job...without a hobby....without knowing what to do next...I'm lost. 

I wish I could just see what the heck I need to do to make this better. 

I'm dying here. 
May you have a friend tonight. 

Love,

S. 
 

The Dreaming Stone

I spoke to a witch and was gifted with a beautiful natural ruby encased in jasper. 

It resides in my pillow. 

It is supposed to help amplify my dreams, so that I understand what in the world I am seeing. 

Jasper and ruby are stones commonly used in the realm of love, so that's what I'll use it for. 
I'm supposed to ask it questions and it will show me in my dreams what will happen. 

So...my question was this.  Since the stones are routinely used in the realm of love, I asked......
Who am I supposed to be with?
The first night....nothing happened. 

The second night....I had bad girl dreams with a faceless guy. 

This morning....

Oh, this morning...

I had a crazy hypnopompic hallucination. 

I'm sitting on a rock unable to speak. 

I feel amazing. 

I see someone's head bobbing about. 

Oh, NO....please don't let this be my gyno. 

I don't know who it is.  I couldn't see the face. 

I see a neatly cut head of hair with three hairs moving in rhythym.  

I cannot move or speak but my thoughts are clearly...

Who in the holy heck is this? 

Why in the heck did I allow him to do this? 

Why am I allowing him to do this in public?

I sure hope no one is seeing this. 

Realizing what was going on, I feel myself pull away from the guy. 

I can see his eyes look at me for permission to stop.  I can barely see them behind the glare of his glasses.

In my vision, I can't speak but I'm thinking
Darn right...you'd better stop before we are having scary gaurds in jail doing probing us  until we find some sucker to bail us out.   

He gently folds my pants back into place and snaps a snap before skipping off in the green grass. 

I'm still unable to move or speak. 

He shouts from the distance "You coming?"

I'm thinking to myself...'still'...but can't say a word. 

I see this figure walking backwards in the distance, holding up water bottles.  "If the next rock we see is purple, I'll let you have a drink!" 

Darn it...

I'm beginning to like this game! 

I awoke with the sense to avoid hiking with brown haired men for the time being. 
And...

I need to carry purple rocks in my backpack. 

Love,

S. 

Yeah..yeah..I asked the wrong question.  It should be 'what the heck do I need to know'....still if I get my love life on track, everything else will fall into place. 

I hope..

And, yeah, yeah....Most men I know have brown hair.  Most men I know wear glasses, especially now since we've all entered the age of bifocals. 

The dreams aren't helping give me any answers but they sure are fun. 

Fun and Frightening Visions

I don't know...

If I have another frightening vision pertaining to my friend, do I dare write about it or say anything? 

Will doing so give life to the negative? 

Or should I just light a candle and pray? 

I'll pray. 

I don't know.  The first dream led to death but when I asked how that situation occurs, I had the most fun dream about him. 

He's happy.  Something joyous happens but due to unforeseen circumstances, he has a bittersweet moment of loss. 

If I warn them...could they...not have this experience? 

I think I know when the loss occurs, the middle of March 2014. 

There is time. 

No one listens to me. 

I'll just pray for their health and happiness.

Maybe I should just write it down in my private dream journal, the one I kept when I started dreaming about him.  I stopped writing in it when I dreamt he walked with a cane after having an accident.

Then he came back into my life, broke his leg, and left me again.

If I think I can prevent him from suffering, I'll share.  If not, I won't.

This is what happens when I forget to take my sleeping pills.  I have nightmares.   I've been crying since 7:30 this morning. 

This is why I can't sleep alone without drugs. 

It sucks being psychic when there is no one to cuddle after dreaming of a funeral.

Love,

S.

Okay....

I realize what is going on...

I have these dreams and wake up with panic attacks. 

Then I down vodka and have another scary dream and wake up to down a sleeping pill. 

I average about two hours of sleep a night. 

Last night, I was lucky.  I had four. 

I woke up crying. 

I realized that I was afraid to go to sleep. 

I realized that I've become afraid of my own bed.

Crap, I'm afraid of my own house.

I told the man in the basement that I think I have a phobia of my bed and that I'm having incredibly painful panic attacks each and every night. 

I asked if I could take half the money out of the checking account and move into an apartment nearby. 

He said no. 

I'm supposed to stay. 

Damn....what do I do? 

This is a supernatural phenomenon.  The shrinks can't help me.  The valium doesn't stop the dreams.  The Xanax just makes me tired. 

It's time to go back to the coven. 

I'm heading out the door to visit with the witches.  

I pray they don't give me mugwort tea again.  Last time, I saw crap that came true immediately and ended up in the ER on a sunny day wearing embarassing lingerie.

I drank the tea.  Had a vision of a visit.  My world would fall apart when I saw the man. 

In the middle of the night, I awoke to see an apparition of the man in my bedroom.  I shrieked.  The guy in the basement ran upstairs and stayed with me so I wouldn't wake up the house.  It was 4:00 a.m.

I awoke to find an old friend had sent me an email at 4:00 a.m.  He would later prove to be the man in my dreams. 

The next day, my husband lost his job.  I learned money was missing.  He told me about some of the false assumptions I was living under.  He told me that he got me pregnant so I could never leave him (in front of his kids) and said I had to stay with him no matter what.   

The man came to visit.  I was unprepared for what I would feel on that day.

I left with vertigo. 

I barely made it home.  After two days of spinning around and throwing up, I was sent to the hospital after my auntie chewed my husband and I out for ignoring my health.  I was trying to host a birthday party.  That didn't go very well. 

The witches said vertigo is caused by being pulled in conflicting directions: to make it stop, I have to choose which direction to go.  I never chose.  I let the men choose for me. 

One guy pulled back.  The other guy demanded that I stay. 

I stayed because the lawyers told me to. 

Okay...

The doctors couldn't cure me.  They just made it worse.  The more drugs I took, the more I slept.  The more I slept, the worse my vertigo.  It was only when the witches told me what was going on and did an aura cleansing for me that I felt better. 

Let's see what they have to say. 

I'll let you know. 

If anyone can prevent visions or help me understand why I'm seeing what I'm seeing.....they can. 

S.

Distress

So...

I went shopping this morning. 

Shoes....those things that soothe the heart of lonely old ladies. 

I wanted a sexy red sundress but could only find a cougar patterened one.  I bought the kitty one and I know, I'll hear a bunch of crude comments about that.

I'm only a Cougar because I attended Washington State. 

Geesh...

While out and about, I noticed that I had a couple of older guys staring at me. 

Older.....

actually, they were my age. 

One wore a leather jacket, had a bright yellow mustang and that guitar-player look on his face. 

He was cute..... but not what I want.  I took off my leather coat and hid my keychain, so he didn't see the guitar shaped trinkets on them. 

He stood behind me in line at the store. 

He was parked next to me at the mall. 

Thank goodness I drive a mini-van....I can always pretend to be calling kids on the cell phone to get out of bizarre confrontations with members of the opposite sex. 

I don't think it would have mattered to this guy.  I made some excuse to leave and skipped off wondering what the heck was wrong with me. 

I know what I want. 

I know who I want. 

I can't find a spell that will break the freakin' spell he has over me. 

What to do....

What to do...

I DO love other men.  They are my friends.  They've been my friends for years but I've never so much as pecked their cheeks.  I've hugged them.  I've given them money and set them up on dates.  I've gone to their weddings and held their hands during their divorces. 

I love them but...they're not what I want. 

I'm broken. 
Somebody ruined me. 

In graduate school, a psychology professor took me aside and told me that I have this "puppy dog quality" that is incredibly attractive.  He said, I had the aura of someone that just lost her best friend. 

I didn't tell him anything. 

He told me that he married his best friend but lost her to cancer five years earlier. 

A little bit of projection on his part, yet...we spoke about first love. 

The oxytocin, the brain chemical cocktails, the brain imprints and the way that stupid relationship sets up expectations that no one else will ever meet. 

The Creator knew how to keep people together.  We get encoded into each other's biochemical dna.  Unfortunately, the world doesn't cooperate with the design of the creator.   

Yes, I know. 

If only I would have NOT considered running off to college to be a stupid music instructor.  In the end, I didn't go.  I didn't want to leave my sister alone in the city while partying so far away. 

I guess we were not meant to be. 

I should've told him that I planned on staying but...he left me.  I didn't realize he left so I could go to college until I found his note 20 years later.  I thought he got laid by a hotter chick and broadened his horizions.   

Hey...I'm always trying to look on the bright side of things. 


People always thought we were brother and sister, which was a bit awkward when embracing in public. 

The really weird part is that he looks like me.  We have the same face, the same hair, our eyes are the same shape.  His are blue.  Mine are green.  We have the same eyeglasses .  We wear similiar clothes and shoes.  The truth is that if I never spilled water on myself or wore too much talcum so that I had to change my clothes, we would have wore the exact same outfits the last three times we met. 

It's a little freaky. 

He's looks just like me except he has nicer skin...and hair...he has a real beard....and more brain cells.

I've got a lot more fat...but the fun kind of fat. 

Other than that our resemblence is uncanny.   

As I struggle to watch my eldest get destroyed by her first love only to go back to him, I return to wonder about mine. 

I research the latest work.  There are new researchers out there doing qualitative studies on the phenomenon of first love. 

My favorite line from a researcher was that to secure a lifetime of happiness, to never long or miss another, one must AVOID THE EXPERIENCE OF FIRST LOVE.   The person further went on to write that people never recover from first love and that the intensity of the feelings shared within that experience causes future relationships to fail. 

That made me chuckle. 

Stupidity makes future relationships fail.   First love has nothing to do with it. 

Unless one's husband gets jealous because he's nosing around and finds love letters his wife thought she threw away in 1987.  My husband was pretending to be cool towards me for years.  We slept apart.  He called me his ex. 

Truth is, when my first love came back to visit, my husband was incredibly jealous. 

I'm confused.  He can hate me but no one else can love me. 

Men are funny. 

I wonder about my first love.   

I wonder why he came back and what he needed to know. 

It probably has to do with the reason I have a daughter in her early twenties. 

He probably fed into the gossip that suggested things that I hope he never heard.

I'll have to clear that one up. 

I don't want to tell him. 
I shouldn't have to tell him anything.  He can do basic math.  The gossips in my family can't. 

It's not his problem. 
Why am I fixating on my first love? 

I ponder that...
I think God gave me this fixation on this person to keep me from becoming a slut.  Men grab my a$$, offer to save me and all I can think about is....

HIM

and that the men grabbing at me are not what I want.

Still....what the hell am I doing? 

There are so many nice men around me. 

Some have offered to help me get this house sold.  Others have offered me a place to stay.  One offered me a job. 

I don't want to take advantage of their hospitality. 

I don't want them and I don't want them to think that I want them. 

Why?

I rationalize that I miss my friend because there was a lesson he needed to teach me. 

Can't fathom what the lesson is. 

I rationalize that I miss my friend because he makes me feel young. 

Not really....the old geezer with the yellow Mustang makes me feel young. 

Maybe I just want to be some one's best friend. 

That's probably it. 

The man in the basement says he wants me to stay here because I'm his best friend.  I asked him to elaborate.  He claims he can tell me anything. 

Okay, then....why didn't he tell me he emptied the bank account into his 401K and stopped paying the joint credit cards? 

I didn't get an answer. 

I think that the problem is that my first love set an impossible benchmark for other men to meet.  I want to be with my best friend.  I will only have sex with my best friend. 

No best friend and I'm climbing the freakin' walls. 

I can't even pretend to do it with the guy in the basement. 

That sex thing....sex with a 500+ pound man.....well, I'm still shocked about that. 

I had no clue. 

That's what I get for living like a nun for so damn long.  I didn't notice because I never saw it. 

In asking other therapists, someone told me that every 35 pounds a guy gains in weight leads to a 1" reduction in member size.  So, if one were very well endowed and put on an additional 350 pounds, it would explain why there seems to be nothing there now. 

His big 10" is now well hidden.

Truth is, I don't know how big he was.  I never cared. 

Actually, he's always been a little on the heavy side, so I have no clue how endowed he really was.  I figured that if he loved me, my mind would assume that he was around 10" and if he was mean to me he would seem to be about 2".  

I guess that is not an 'in my head' assumption.  The meaner he is to me, the more he eats and the smaller he is. 

Wow... The things I'm learning are shocking the hell out of me. 

I don't know what is wrong with me. 

I think this is why I stay here. 

There is nothing out there that I can have that I really want. 

But staying here is destroying my financial security. 

I'm going to have to bite the bullet and get a lawyer. 

One of the guys I interviewed is cute...so I can't hire him. 

Damn...

Love,

S.

P.S.  I'll try hypnotizing myself again.  If I can find one tiny reason to hate him....just one...I can turn my lusty feelings into disgust. 

Do I want to do that? 

If I succeed, I could patent the process....

there may be a market for that.

Well...maybe not. 

If he disgusted me, I'd need him even more. 

I'd have to take him out for dessert all the time so that he can teach me willpower. 

Yep...

I couldn't eat chocolate if I felt disgusted. 

He'd have to go with me to the bar so I couldn't get tipsy. 

Or to those Chinese Food Buffets where the sesame tofu is deep fat fried and I tend to leave weighing twice as much as I did coming in. 

You know something? 

I've already got someone who can do that for me.

He lives in the basement.

But, it would be cruel to sit with him at a Cheesecake factory, wouldn't it? 

Sigh...

I give up. 

I'm middle aged and half-dead. 

If I can make it this long, the other forty years should be a breeze.

Edit (8:19 p.m.)

Well, I just learned that the man in the basement took 10K from his 401K last year and we had to pay taxes on it.  He used my business losses to cover it (and then blamed my business losses for our low tax refund).

He never told me the truth. 

I'm getting tired and worried. 

I can't share assets with this man...I'm liable for his financial misteps. 

Damn...

Pray for me.

I Guess I Need His Memory

“Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.”

-Michel de Montaigne

I've spent years trying to forget HIM.

Years....

many, many years. 

I tried dating. 

It didn't work.  All I did was pull other people like him to me. 

They'd look a little like him; they'd have his eyes, his stature, his hobbies.....

but they never had his voice, his deep thoughts, or his sincerity. 

When I met a man his polar opposite,

the only one that didn't remind me of HIM.

I said 'yes' when he gave me a diamond ring. 

That was a disaster. 

I hate holidays. 

They remind me of HIM. 

I actually had to avoid our hometown because it always made my eyes water. 

My friends and family were convinced that I was allergic to something in the air.  I'd hear stories about how the foothills trapped the pollution in that city and made my eyes water and my nose run. 

They didn't understand the truth. 

It wasn't allergies.

My husband's aunt lived one block from his mother. 

I hated driving by on Christmas Eve for fear of seeing him. 

My friend lived across the street, I would cringe when he brought me over to visit with his family. 

I stayed silent. 

In 1987, I felt him in a building while walking down the street.  I scurried away.  The next day, he was standing outside of my apartment.  I was too afraid to answer my door when the bell rang. 

It was a scary part of town. 

In 1991, they told me that I was dying.   I wanted to thank him for being a friend when I needed one the most. 

In 1996, as I stood at a bus stop in Lakewood, I swore I felt his presence.  It lasted just a moment.  I never waited at that bus stop again. 

In 1998, my husband's cousin said she saw him in a supermarket.  He asked about me and his wife slugged him for it.  She had to call to tell me that he still loved me.  Oooh and that didn't get the in-laws talking at all (please note the sarcasm).   

In 2000, I swore I saw him behind me in a store.  He has a distinctive walk.  I shuffled away never to return to that store for several years. 

Then things fell silent.  I thought I was over him....finally.

One night in 2004, I fell asleep in tears.  My husband and I had been fighting since 1997.  I wanted to hold a job, he didn't want me to work.  I could feel my financial plans falling to ruin.  We started sleeping apart in 2001 but had reconciled in order to try again.  I had moved our eldest into the basement apartment to seal the deal because there would be nowhere else for him to sleep. 

He would fall asleep and ignore me. 

There would be no goodnight kisses. 

I had a health issue that needed to be addressed.  We'd argue over it until I became too tired to advocate for myself.   I needed to arrange transport to the hospital; he didn't want to help. 

I was in pain.  I was sobbing uncontrollably.  Big tears flew from my brown eyes.  I prayed.  

"Does anyone in this world love me at all?" I asked.

I began to hallucinate. 

A beautiful woman knelt over my bedside.  She wore a golden dress and had a luminous veil around her being.  She told me she was Diana and that she was the protector of women and children.  If she were to help me I had to swear to help children and women. 

Visions of a brown haired man filled my head.  I had no clue who he was at all but the beautiful Goddess told me that he cared for me rather deeply. 

She would not tell me who he was, I would know enough in due time. 

She also said that to prove to me that she had visited she would leave me with emerald eyes.  When I look into my own eyes, I will remember my promise to love my sisters and their children. 

This was my initiation into paganism. 

I awoke with green eyes that I have to this very day.  

For eight years after, I dreamt of this man.  We would walk and talk about his life, his job, his wife, his family, his charity and so on. 

I had no clue who he was only that sleeping didn't hurt so bad anymore. 

Then, I saw him get hurt in a dream.  I panicked.  I needed to know who he was. 

I prayed again on the Winter Solstice and got my answer. 

In this dream, he visits me at the house I live in now.  We are talking about his life, his job, his family and his desire to help children.  I look up and see that it is HIM. 

I say his name and he seems shocked that I don't know who he is. 

I awaken and wonder if the accident dreams would warrant contacting him. 

I struggled with that for years.  The dreams became more and more urgent as time went on, yet he has a common name.  I could not find him. 

He found me. 

He visited with me. 

I was unprepared for my reaction. 

All those old feelings came back. 

He looked exactly as he did in those dreams. 

I warned him because I love him. 

He shrugged it off. 

He got hurt anyway.  It was the same injury but it did not happen in the manner in which I saw. 

I feel horrible. 

I started to feel guilty about my marriage.  If I dreamt of my husband as much as I dreamt of HIM, maybe my marriage would be better. 

I hypnotized myself NOT to see HIS face in my dreams. 

It didn't help my marriage.  We still slept apart.  He got fired from the city and the lawyers made up reasons that it was my fault: I've heard everything from having too much sex (not joking here), not diagnosing his medical conditions on my own, having an advanced degree that makes him unmotivated, needing to get a job and faking heart attacks (a reference to the chest pains I get from fibromyalgia) as being reasons why they fired him.

When I ran for mayor, I got an email from his former supervisor clearing up the real reason they fired him.  He was obese and didn't fit in with the image of health the city is trying to promote.  That's illegal.  Now, he weighs 150 pounds more than he did the day they fired him. 

I felt guilty. 

I think guilt makes me act like a lunatic as it causes me to push people away in an effort to fix what cannot be fixed.  I pushed my friend away.  I've pushed many of my friends away.  I feel that my pain is a black, toxic slime that can get on other people if they come near me. 

I'm trying to cope with this by myself. 

Now, I've been depressed as of late.  I feel trapped here.  Every time I find a way out, something stupid happens that keeps me here.  He'll lose his job.  His car will break down.  He'll need help with something.  He'll initiate a lawsuit.  He'll run up the credit.  He'll refuse to pay the bills and the lawyers will tell me to stay until after he files for bankruptcy. 

He won't tell me what he's doing.  I have to hear about it from other people; city lawyers, his lawyers, bill collectors....everyone else. 

He wants me to stay.  I can't figure out how I can do that.  He won't cooperate with me.  I want so very much to do right by everybody but, if we are not talking, I can't fathom how to do that.

Now, my credit is ruined.  My business is ruined.  My savings is gone.  I'm scared to death.  I'm a very goal oriented person, but now I don't know what I can do.  I need some stability in my life.  I need to leave but all the tools I had for leaving are gone. 

I can't sleep.  I try to meditate at night to find a solution.  It is escaping me. 

In those wee hours of the morning, around three or four, I will wake up and sob. 

Now, I'm allergic to my own tears.  You can always tell when I cry a lot because there will be rashes and dry skin all over my face.  My tears are far too salty for my sensitive skin.  Since I learned that he quit paying the bills, I've been in the house for eight weeks trying to hide my reddish face from everyone. 

I feel incredibly isolated.  Our phones aren't working.  I can't afford to get more minutes for my cell phone.  I don't know how long we'll have internet service or if it will be cut off. 

He just started a darn good job.  I have put a lot of things I loved aside to help him get and keep this job.  I don't understand what he is doing. 

This is a very confusing time for me.  I feel trapped and have no idea what direction to take. 

I can't afford to leave. 

I can't stomach the thought of staying in a dead marriage to help him with the kids while none of my needs are going to be considered, much less met. 

Sometimes I think about life insurance policies and kids who could have money for those things kids need.  In those wee hours of the morning, when I am not quite awake, I think the unthinkable. 

When the pain is so bad that I cannot breathe, I think the unthinkable. 

Then I think of HIM, the faceless man in my dreams. 

I finally realized why that happens. 

When I was seventeen, my dad committed suicide.  Dad had stage four lung cancer but didn't tell a soul.  He waited until the day after Christmas to shoot himself.  No one knew why he did it until an autopsy was performed. 

My friend, the one in my dreams, listened to me cry.  He knew how painful the loss of my dad was for me.  He made me promise to never do anything so stupid as to commit suicide, no matter what. 

He told me that there was always another way. 

I thought Diana made me dream of HIM to help him.  I understand now, it was to help me. 

Maybe if I stop trying to push his face of out my brain, stop hypnotizing myself to forget our relationship, stop trying to deny my own past....maybe....maybe....I can stop obsessing about those dreams and missing my old friend. 

Maybe I can be more of a friend to people in general instead of squirreling myself away when the pain comes back full force. 

I owe HIM a debt of thanks.  He's right, there is always a better way. 

I'll find it. 

Wishing HIM the best of everything no matter where he ends up,

With love,

S. 

Pain

There are no words to describe where I find myself. 

All I do is cry. 

I pulled myself together enough to work out for a couple of hours.  Crying on the ski machine thingy was icky.  At least I wasn't on the slopes, could you imagine how yucky that would be? 

I don't know what to do. 

Do I try to restart my business? 

Will he take it?  He gets 5% ownership for every year I operate. 

I should probably wait. 

Do I wait for him to make a move? 

I don't know. 

He wants me to stay. 

He says he loves me. 

I don't believe him. 

I think I forgot how to kiss. 

I know I forgot how to do the horizontal polka.

Each moment, I have a choice.  I can laugh or I can cry.

I try to laugh

but sadly....

my humor is too dry. 

This is Not My Beautiful House

Today, I was asked to create a subliminal commercial to help a company pitch their cleaning products. 

I can't do that. 

Let me rephrase that.  I can but I won't do that. 

I studied subliminal imagery and the psychology of symbols in grad school.  I spend a lot of time with a couple of sound engineers and learned to create subliminal recordings of all types. I also worked with the former producer of PBS documentaries to learn how to make videos. 

I've studied hypnotic phenomena since I was fourteen years old.  

As a teen, I learned that boys who thought you could hypnotize them tended to run away on the first date.

If they don't run away, they try to make you give it up and go to church with them because they think that hypnotism will condemn one to hell. 

I'll spare you the story of the end of my first relationship.  I'll just say that many of my friends wanted to know if he pissed me off enough to hypnotize him into embarrassing himself. 

He didn't embarrass himself...he just tried to be culturally advanced in a cowboy town.  People didn't get it. 

I guess I should say what he did....he wore a ceremonial Scottish outfit to school.  He would have been better off in a cowboy hat and boots with smelly horse patties on the bottom of them.

I thought he was hot. 

Still....no one wanted to date me after the rumor started that I hypnotize boyfriends into showing off their legs.  Boys still tried to sneak kisses or reach down my blouse and up my skirt but.....alas..... no one from high school bought me dinner after that. 

Okay...that's a lie.  Brad bought me a Diet Coke last year and offered to buy me lunch but I was on a diet (hence the soda). 

It's so cute that starving men will forgo a meal to be with a woman.  I wish they'd understand....they can eat more than 1,200 calories a day.  I can't or my morning routine would involve putting lipstick on a pig. 

Oh...now I AM a liar.  The adorable Scotsman reference above bought me lunch on two occasions.  I even got fancy coffee and tea. 


Okay....it took twenty-four years for any boys from high school to buy me lunch....still no dinner nor breakfast.   They obviously respect me far too much to buy me alcohol.  That's okay....

I'll stay mum on whether or not I hypnotize them. 

I do have guys that I knew back in the day (who attended other high schools) visit me and buy me beer before trying to set me up with their roomates that tag along.  This is probably why I haven't officially divorced...it's the perfect excuse to get out of an obvious set up for a one-night stand. 

Nope...can't do it...I'm honoring my wedding vows. 

If I had a quarter for every time I uttered that phrase, I'd have the heavy purse of a cheap whore on a busy night.  After twelve years in a dead marriage, it adds up. 

The most memoriable reply to my wedding vow line was from a guy who protested....'but you don't look married!"

Ha...Ha...Ha...

What? 

Am I supposed to be morbidly obese, wearing an apron and wearing the faint scent of dish soap?


Sigh....

I digress. 

It is easy to create NLP/hypnotic/subliminal advertisements but it would be unethical for someone in my profession to do such a thing.  There are marketing techniques that are far more effective, sure they utilize NLP and hypnotic phenemena but professional marketers use tried, tested and true techniques. 

I ended up referring the company to a marketing specialist that I trust. 

Still.....

if I wanted to find images that would connect with women who try to avoid looking at or buying cleaning products...

it would be something like this.

The concept of a hot guy cleaning the house works for most women. 

Those of us with OCD....well....we would throw up wondering what the guy in the picture did with the spatula. 

Oh crud.....I'm going to have nightmares of this guy now. 

At least it will beat nightmares of my exes fighting with girls, breaking limbs, falling out of airplanes, having a heart attack, drowning, skiing into trees, or eating themselves to death (ala the Monty Python thin wafer sketch)......

or whatever the nightmare of the week is. 

Love,

S. 

Just in case you don't know about the Thin Wafer Sketch, you can view it above.  While hypnotizing the man in the basement to try to get down to why he is overeating, he brings this up and says he's trying to kill himself. 

No, I can't make him get help.  He has to do that himself. 

He's been in and out of therapy for the past twelve years.  The last time he was fired from his job for seeking help.  I'm going to crucify his governmental employer over that one.....they want to increase taxes to pay for mental health care yet fire people for seeking help.  I'm just biding my time...

We've spent thousands of dollars on bariatric services, too.  Each time, he gets bigger. 

I can't make him do what he doesn't want to do.  He's going to need a wake up call. 

If only he'd remember the first part of the sketch.  Isn't it lovely to have something other than an inny?

I'm about to cry....there comes a time when the fat pad overshadows even the most well endowed among us.   

Maybe....if he met a hot woman who could help him work it off? 

Maybe? 

One can hope.


I'm obviously not hot enough. 

Sniff...

Fun at the Gym

Well, science has found what I've known all along....women cum at the gym. 

No, as bad as my typindsng is, I didn't mean to say "come to the gym" but rather "cum at the gym"

http://bodyodd.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/19/10759818-no-sex-necessary-women-have-orgasms-at-the-gym-study-shows

Yep.  This is one reason that I'm addicted to working out. 

Of course, but then again, some of us ladies have extra special work-out gear. 

There are days when I have to wear stage make-up on my chest and padded bras to hide it. 

If only I could stifle those vocalizations.

When that happens, I just pretend that I'm singing along to Kylie Minogue...it's all good. 

Life is fun.  

Love,

S.

The Ghul

Make no friendship with an angry man; and with a furious man thou shalt not go.

-Proverbs 22:24

I want to kick someone's ass. 

Seriously....

It's not like me. 

I blame the Ghuls. 

They came from me from a woman in England. 

She was afraid of them. 

I love them. 

I didn't believe at first until I took them in hand and asked to meet my favorite rock star from the eighties. 

I'm not freakin' kidding here. 

He (or an agent purporting to be him) tweeted with me within twelve minutes.

My favorite rock star hates Obama, loves his mother and likes to eat tuna (and I don't know if that was a metaphor).  He has four kids. 

Whoa...no wonder I like him.  He sounds just like me (sans the fish). 

Interesting....

The Ghul teach me to stand up for myself. 

These entities abhor violence. 

If I take them with me and people try to attack me, the abusive idiots end up getting the worst of it. 

I wore them on Saturday night. 

The ghul heighten my senses.  I can sense danger a mile away.  I can read foul intent.  I can also gather evidence prior to saying anything quite quickly. 

The last time I wore them in public, I hypnotized two nasty lawyers. 


The time before that, I caught a neighbor trying to poison another neighbor's cat

The time before that, a neighbor was harassing the renter living across the street.  I went across the street to intervene and caught the faint smell of liquor on my abusive neighbor's breath.  When her psychiatrist hubby and psychology professor roommie confronted me for getting involved, I called them enablers. 

That bratty woman was terrorizing the neighborhood for well over a decade.  My words must've sunk in with her spouse, she got help for her alcohol problem and it is much more peaceful here. 

Then...there was the time the man in the basement got violent with me on a sunny April day.  I shouldn't admit what I did to him but, in my defense, he pushed me to the floor and broke my glasses. 

My high school sweetheart took me to lunch the next day and knew something was wrong.  I probably should've told him but I couldn't  bear to ruin his peace.  The man would go to the ends of the earth to protect a woman...so, for that very reason, he will be the last to know lest he wind up in trouble. 

The local politicians think I'm battered.  One is trying to get me a job as a teacher.  Another says she wants something more for me than to stick around here. 

I'm wondering why the lady handing out clothes to battered women gives them to me. 

Victimhood is a choice. The stupid patriarchy is the problem.  I need to get out of here without getting entangled in the patriarchal set-up of the judicial and welfare systems. 

It's a matter of having the right plan and being smart about it. 

If I get a good job now, the spark plugs in my car will be removed.  The money was stolen when I found an office.  He stopped paying the credit cards in our names when I expressed interest in a job (which required a credit check) and started looking for an apartment.  He got on welfare when I ran on the Libertarian ticket. 

Sabotage is a way of life with an angry man.  I'm not sure he's conscious of what he does.

Why am I thinking about this? 

Well...on Saturday, I spent the night babysitting my granddaughter.  She went home around 12:30 a.m. 

We had a new batch of renters move in across the street.  They partied until 3:30 or so.  Around 3:30, I heard a man scream at the top of his lungs.  I flung myself out of bed,
ran downstairs,
turned on the porch light,
flung open the front door
and glared at the guy jumping around in the front yard. 

I yelled out in the darkness. 

Hi...I'm the kind of bitch who'll call the cops if you act like that in the middle of the night. 

He jerked and ran into his car. 

I stood in the doorway for a few moments and went back upstairs.

The yelling began again. 

I run back to the front door, making sure he could hear it open by slamming the broken screen into the brick facade on the door jam.  I fling on the porch light and ignore the fact that my breasts were hanging out of my silk nightie.  I glare at him and boom...

Really?  

He ran from his car and into the house. 

He's quiet now. 

I saw the woman living there this morning.  She's beautiful and has a toddler. 


So...as of now... the ghul have a new home in my window next to my video camera.  They'll watch over her.  They'll also drain the batteries on my camcorder.  Spirits do that.  Someday metaphysical researchers will  probably look at the connection between spirits and electricity.  There is something to that. 

Maybe I'll give them a little treat.....sand...... black onyx.....freedom.....actually, that's the first thing I do when spirits can be confirmed.  I give them the freedom to roam wherever they wish to go so long as they don't do anything that harms anyone.  Go forth where ye will with harm to none and return when I call for ye.   

Maybe I'll cast a spell on that house, too.  I hate spell casting......I really do.  Freakin' around with the natural order of things is best done at a minimum. 



Never again...

Love,

S.

Trying to Move On

So...

I've been struggling with how to get rid of the loads of crap that I've accumulated in this twenty year relationship. 

I've been trying to give stuff away like mad. 

I've got about fifty pairs of designer shoes and boots,  

fifteen or more designer suits,

and

too many designer jackets to count. 

This is not counting my many pairs of jeans, silk tops, lace dresses, skirts and all those things that fill my walk-in closet. 

I didn't know what to do. 

I didn't want to donate them to a shop that will sell them for a huge mark up.  I didn't want to give them to a brat to sell on E-bay. 

So, I sat on the crap. 

I think the clutter is keeping me here. 

My eldest daughter is starting her new job today and didn't have any suits or shoes.  She hates my classic taste in suits, so nothing I have works for her. 

I took her to the consignment shop I've frequented since I was a child in the town where my grandparents lived.  She scored several pairs of designer shoes, a silk top and other things for just a few dollars. 

The clerk and I started talking about volunteerism. 

The woman at the store knew me. 

I mean, she knew who I was. 

She knew I was a politician. 

She knew I wanted the city to leave her little store alone.  The urban renewal idiots had tried to shut them down because they don't bring in a lot of sales tax.   I had a nice little chit chat with a city councilperson about it a few months back at a political picnic. 

How she knew that, I don't know. 

She told me that all of her profits go to the battered women's shelter and the nicest of the clothes are given to those women looking to leave abusive partners.  The nicest toys are given to the kids. 


My prayers have been answered. 


I couldn't imagine a better place to send the more classic pieces of my wardrobe.  I can also weed out all those stupid stuffed animals and toys that gather round the living room and end up shoved in my bedroom.

Yippee!

Ask and ye shall receive. 

I get to make the house smell like fabric softener.  I love washing stuffed animals.  My mother's hobby was taking delapitated dolls and repairing them.  That is probably one thing that I can do fairly well. 

First, though, I'm going to have to stuff them in the freezer.  Weird, eh?  Well....it's the only way to kill creepy things that tend to get on them (e.g. dust mites).  Maybe I'll invite a neighbor over for dinner on a day when it's filled with little stuffed animals and ask him to get something out of the freezer for us to eat. 

I could use the laugh. 

I'm also going to get rid of all those stupid kitchen gadgets people buy me.  You know, like those stupid automatic cheese graters.  How lazy does one have to be to use those? 

I mean...really? 

Rice steamer?  What the heck?  I've got sauce pans for that. 

Jello molds?  How old am I? I'm old enough to be afraid of Jello.  If I eat enough of it, I'll hallucinate Bill Crosby. 

I have an automatic potato peeler?  Why?

Why have a salad bowl that tosses the salad for you?   I mean, when I think of a tossing salad bowl, I think of a puke bucket. 

I've carved out the next week to clean out the house. 

The man in the basement knows something is up. 

He made me a key to our house.  It is in the shape of an accoustic guitar. 

Why do I need an expensive key to a house I want to leave? 

He offered to fulfil my dream of a garden of rose bushes dedicated to Aphrodite.  I only have one rose bush.  I can't take it with me.  Why would I want to plant more?   

Sigh....

How does one explain the concept of separation? 

I love him. 

I love all of my exes. 

Over the course of the past four years, nearly every man I've ever dated has come back to visit me.  Maybe it would be safer to say, every single man I've seen naked has come back (even the gay roommate who had a habit of NOT locking the bathroom door). 

Excuse me....I have to shake my head.  Some memories just have to be shaken off. 

His skin was so much prettier than my own.....still is...I will forever be jealous of his beauty. 

Sigh....

If these blasts from my past have taught me anything in the past three years, they have taught me that I can love someone and not be with them. 

I'm good at loving at a distance. 

I don't know what to do. 

When I don't know what to do or how to say it, I tend to stay silent until the opportunity presents itself. 

I'm in severe pain. 

I miss falling asleep with someone and waking up to someone.  I miss the most basic things that people should take for granted in a marriage. 

How does a woman explain this to a man? 

HELP!!! 

I really need a good friend to help me figure out what to say.  I could hire a therapist but it wouldn't be fair to stick the man in the basement with my bills. 

Maybe if I sit in stillness, the answer will come.   

Love,

S.

Siegfred Activism

There are days when I feel like a rescue cat.

Today is one of those days.

I'm licking my lips and waiting for the perfect time to pounce.

Everyone knows that timing is everything. 

The opposing lawyer called me a leopard....

He sees through me. 

Damn it...

I've got to wait....

wait...

wait.....

until the day their guards are down.

I'll go for the jugular.


I'll be the one lapping up the cream. 



Stupid boys always think that they are smarter than a fire colored kitty.


Purr,

S.

More Nighmares of HIM

I hate waking up after having such disjointed sleep. 


There were hallucinations of tornado sirens around 11:03 p.m. MST. The only way I could sleep was with the knowledge that the place I live is far too cold to have such storms right now.

There was a dream about a missing child named Alex who was lost by a river I don't recognize.  In the dream, I join the search and find evidence that the eleven year old child ran away. 

These dreams happen a lot to me.  I'll dream of children being buried only to learn, within three days, that they've gone missing.  There is one in particular that is haunting me to this day.

If I  drive by a little patch of open space and feel the spirit of a little girl.  She won't say her name but if I close my eyes, I see the little girl wrapped around a bloody white sheet.

Four years after the visions started, a story came out about a little girl who lived one block away from this field going missing.  Her mother has since died.  Her father has moved away.  No one has dared look for the body. 

We only know she was murdered years ago by her step-father because her step-brothers told social workers when they were questioned.  We don't know when she died, only that her brothers were haunted by her murder. 

The little girl has a name now. It is pronounced Aarron-nay. She's named after her father. 

Maybe I should go back with stuffed animals.  Maybe she'll tell me where she sleeps. 

I don't know.  How would that look if a former candidate for office locates the remains of a murdered child in her city?  

Does it matter how it looks.  I need a shaman to help me learn to comfort this kiddo. 

I hate being psychic. 

It's worse during Mercury retrograde because the information rarely makes sense.

Two more weeks to go and everything will be back to normal.


I'll watch the news today and look for stories about an eleven year old named Alex.  In the dreams, he's near a busy street by a bus stop and hiding in a light blue bathroom.  It is a bus that Tom and I used to ride together, so I can guess the city.  Since there are only two rivers in the areas we visited, that narrows it down quite a bit. 

The searchers have to hurry.  There are a lot of children's spirits haunting the river at Bear Valley.  I hate going there, so many little ones have drowned. 

Sometimes the information works....sometimes it doesn't. 

No wonder my mother drank...it made the visions stop. 

My daughters are psychic.  It's a little freaky. 

When my eldest was two, I was given a medication that made me sick.  I fell in and out of consciousness for hours at a whack.  My last vision before passing out was of my mother.  I woke up hours later with my 2 year old by my side.  She took darn good care of herself.  She ate cold chicken nuggets from the fridge.  She relieved herself on the kid's potty.  She cuddled mommy. 

I awoke to her telling me that her grandma was there telling her what to do. 

My mother died in 1984. 

Then, she had to tell my mother-in-law that she didn't need her because she already had a nice grandma. 

Oooh....that wasn't a good thing. 

Years later, I would take the younger one to a graveyard for the first time.  She ran up to my mother's headstone, took off her jacket, and set it on the top of the tombstone. 

The three year old child looked up at me and said, 'ssshhhh mommy, grandma is sleeping.'

On the bright side, living in a haunted house doesn't creep them out at all. 

I bought a little vial of lavender from a woman who makes her own essential oils.  I like buying from her because the lavender smells like the old scent of the vintage Cover Girl cosmetics I used to wear in High School.  It reminds me of the comfort I had as a teen hanging out with my best friend. 

I used it in a ritual to honor Isis and Osiris, asking to meet my soul mate so that I don't go terrorizing men that aren't meant for me anymroe. 

The next morning, I found the vial of lavender oil had been given a new name. 

I kid you not...

The handwritten L-A-V-E-N-D-E-R had been changed.

           It now reads  A- N-E-W-U-S-E.

Things that used to creep me out, like finding answers to questions written in spent candles, or dreaming of people and having them visit me.  It no longer bother me.  This was just one of those things that I'll never quite understand. 

I think I know why no one visits my house anymore.  It is always chilly and cold.  We never needed an air conditioner.  Our summer electrric bills are very low.

Maybe I need to plan a Halloween party to get people over here...that ought to be good! 

I'm hoping to be out of here by Halloween, though.  I'm not sure the spirits will follow me. 

Love ya,

S.

Edit 3/19/12:

I checked the database....there haven't been any missing kiddos named Alex here since 2000.

And, I think this was what I needed to pay attention to:

http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/19/10757475-tornadoes-strike-nebraska-flipping-tractor-trailer-and-rail-cars


I blame HAARP.

Damn....I usually get more lead time on those visions. 

I had the auditory hallucination at 11:03 p.m. on Friday.  They hit around 11:00 p.m. on Sunday. 
48 hours? 



Edit 3/21/12

There was a young man that disappeared last week about two miles from my home.  He is hispanic, around thirteen years of age.  His family lives in a home by a river.

I learned about this from the staff at the music store.  They're asking every customer if we've seen the young man.  I'm a little ticked that the local PD and media isn't picking up on the story but I'll see if I can get a copy of the boy's picture.  There is a reason the spirits gave me this dream.  Maybe he's out here somewhere. 

We'll see.  I'll update if anything happens.

Oh...and my friend and his family are all okay!
Love ya,

S.