Bratty Blogger Guilt

I've got to quick screwing with people, don't I? 

Sigh....

That's the fun of fiction writing, you can write whatever the heck you want and no one knows whether or not it is the truth.  If it has a grain of truth it in, people are more apt to believe it.

I've actually had people approach me to ask if I've put spells on them or hypnotized them.  I had to bite my tongue when a nasty politician queried if I've ever done such a thing to him. 

My reply was "Have I ever made (voice lowers slightly) you feel dizzy (pitch does not rise)?"

"Yes." 

Of course you do, I just suggested it. 

"If I did so, it was only because I like you", I say, "The voters will vote for you if they can sense that you are genuine and (pitch lowers) always tell the truth (more animated voice returns) even if it makes you uncomfortable.  I want you to win.  You want to win, don't you?"

I'm such a snot.  Okay.  I'm still in my promise making mode.  So, I'm going to try (emphasis on the word that implies failure) to go 24 hours without playing with someone's mind.

Not my ex, who I think fell in love with me at a party the other day.  He's giving me that look again and its not a good thing if we can't talk to each other.  I need help here.  I promise, though, not to F him in mind or body.

I shall not mess with the mind of any door to door salesmen.

Nor the telemarketers. 

Nor the really, really creepy people that are pushy and won't take no for an answer.

Not even the idiot 21 year old who is beating my daughter and believes in Black Magick.  Even though its tons of fun to watch superstitious and paranoid people freak out. 

I'll be good now.   At least, I'll try. 

23 hours, 59 minutes and 23 seconds to go. 

It's going to be one heck of a long day. 

Love ya,

S.

The Curse

The veil is still thin and I'm hoping to carve out time to take flowers to the deceased soldiers today.  I usually do that every November first but we got snowed out. 

Today I'm doing artwork for a couple of albums, re-mixing some tracks, and wondering if I should rat out a sociopath.  I probably won't rat out the loony.  He'll lie and deny everything.  No one will believe me until he screws them over, too.   Besides I think he was being used by the universe to help me undo a mistake.

Oh, that reminds me, I did promise to tell you a secret. 

Years ago, the sitting mayor pissed me off big time. 

A city employee bribed my husband for $500; she made up a bunch of crap about him and promised that it would not impact his career if he paid the sum in cash. 

After going to the bank and glaring at a clerk over money missing from an education account, my husband confessed.  I went to the woman's boss...nothing.  I went to the city attorney; who actually said this was standard practice (he turned out to be right).

To this day, they still have my $500. 

They call them workplace fines but the money goes to the people levying the fine.  My ex was fined for weird stuff.  A lady wanting a promotion would claim he broke workplace rules but, according to his boss, no one else saw it.  The lady used her accusations to claim that the sitting boss wasn't doing her job and got her fired so she could step in and take the job.  I have met numerous people fined by this lady for things that could get the city sued.  I have compiled their stories for a website I'll put up when the election is a distant memory.

Workplace fines are actually an illegal practice and one I'm poised to stop now!  I've got three strategies for that but I'm staying mum until its done.  

I wrote to the city manager and didn't hear a peep.  I wrote to my councilmen at large (two of them later become my political opponents) and got nothing.  So, I wrote to the mayor.  Again, he was silent.

In exasperation, I wrote to every single council member and heard from the one dear lady who is known to answer every single email she gets.  She told me that the mayor's office told everyone to ignore me!

That later inspired one of the most commented on campaign pledge of mine; I pledge to listen!

At this point, we were getting harassed big time.  City vehicles were sitting outside the house.  I had weird visits from the cops, code enforcement, and crazy calls from the city attorneys.  I couldn't get a straight answer about how to license my business here.  I documented my three years of hell in earlier blog entries but took them down after I was asked to run for office.  I may put them back up.

So....being a pissed ancestor of a black magician, I did the one thing I could think to do.  I dressed in  black, wore a deceased ancestor's protection amulet, went down to city hall,

and I cursed the mayor.

I did, in all good conscience, cast a protection spell over the council, police and firefighters.  It must have faded away because the council has had no end of problems in recent months with theft. 

The Mayor's curse would remove the veil of secrecy of anything in which the mayor or his cronies knowingly hid information or lied about.   I wanted transparency.  I wanted him to answer to the people.   The more the curse worked, the more the vegetation on the south-west side of the city building would thrive.  Weird, I know...but tying the two things together would help me gauge whether or not it was working.  

Anyone with the title of mayor would be impacted for the remainder of time unless I broke the spell.  Breaking the spell is easy; the mayor had to hug me and I had drink a glass of water with him or her.  At the time, I figured that I wasn't going to get near a  nasty, filthy, lying critter to save my life so I thought that the curse was set in stone. 

Within months, I ran into a group of people who worked to expose corruption in the city government and we decided to form a group.

The curse was in motion. 

One day at the city building, Mr. Mayor pushed past me and I ended up with my side slammed into a door entry.  I repeated the curse.  One of the trees at the side of the building grew much larger than the rest and more information came to my cohorts and myself.

There was a day when I realized that magick had screwed up my life pretty badly.  I swore off the whole spell-casting business.  I wanted to undo the curse.  The opportunity presented itself when I was pressured to run for the office of the man I cursed.

As of Tuesday, the curse was broken when the winner hugged me. 

So....

We are all free.

I'm wondering how in the hell this happened, whether or not this is coincidence or whether or not I can turn this into a fictional novel of some sort.  I, personally, am having a hard time believing it. 

Life is one big mystery, isn't it? 

Love ya,

S.

Want that L on my Forehead Tonight

I was sure I would lose until the phone rang off the hook yesterday. Pray my few votes go to the guy who sounds just like me.

The truth is that I have far more power as a mentalist/activist than I will ever have as a politician. The other candidates stole my platform.  They repeated my promises; let's hope the winner keeps them.

If not, I'll keep them in line.


Love ya,

S.

Edit 11:00 p.m.  Woo Hoo!  I lost!!  I'm so darn happy.  I told the news reporter that I was happy  that other candidates took my focus on transparency in government and promised to run with it.  He said I inspired countless young women to get involved and predicted that I'd run for office the next time the council irritated me.

I won't.  There are more effective ways to get things done.  In fact, I'm working on a research study now that will certainly get them talking once it is published. 


Most third party candidates who spend thousands of dollars come in with 4% of the vote.  I spent less than $90 (didn't use yard signs, didn't advertise, I just gave a ton of speeches).  I ended up with more than 4% of the vote split among six of us.   I did raise a few hundred dollars, what is left will go to charity.

It is sick.  In a city which nears a population of 350,000 people, less than 35,000 of them could bother to vote!  How sad is a paltry 10% turnout?  I was hoping to inspire more people to vote. 

I've been asked to run again...absolutely not...never...ever...no way! 

Life is good!  I'm not stuck in a job I hate. 

Oh, by the way, the person I stood behind won.

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.