Friday, December 30, 2011

Oh No! The Year 2012

So this Sunday is going to be January 1st 2012.

What a trip, huh?

It seems like just the other day we were going into the year 2000.

Do you remember how freaked out some people were about the whole Y2K oh-my-God-everything-is-going-to-shut-down craze?

I do.

My sister-in-law’s husband’s mom (did you get that?) had spent five grand or more on end-of-the-world provisions.

Fast forward 12 years later, the scare is happening again.

There are people who actually have underground shelters stocked with food and water because they believe something drastic is going to happen in 2012 to where the world is going to be hurtin’ for certain.

If you take into account, prophecies for 2012, it does make one wonder if there’s any truth to it because more than one person had some serious predictions for this coming year, like the Mayans, Nostradamus, the Hopi Indians, etc.

Did you know the Mayans’ predictions don’t stop at 2012?

I didn’t know that until recently.

The Mayans’ predictions actually go all the way to 4772 A.D.

When I was a kid, I thought the Mayans’ 2012 prediction had meant the end of humanity.

Silly, huh?

Supposedly, something big is going to happen on December 21, 2012 because of all the cosmic crap heading our way.

Like what?

Um, let’s see . . .

A polar shift. Violent solar activity. Planetary alignment of Venus.

Those were a few I’d heard about.

If that’s not worrisome enough, apocalyptic disaster is again, supposedly going to be unleashed upon us: hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, floods, and droughts. And If the solar flares hits earth with great force and power, everything will be shut off–power, cell phones, computers. We might end up living like our great grandparents had lived, which to be honest, might be a good thing for all of us in the long run.

So are you scared?

*flashes you a silly grin*

Don’t be because honestly, I think it’s a bunch of nonsense. There may be some truth to it, but not enough to fret over. I’ll admit though, it would be pretty cool to have a secret bunker stocked with end-of-the-world provisions and gear.

I know. That sounds weird coming from a girl, especially when she’s barely 5 feet tall. But I love military surplus gear and to know how to survive off the land. I have a book called, ‘S.A.S. Survival Guide’. S.A.S. stands for, special air service. It’s an elite unit of the British Army. The book is awesome.

Anyway, I’m not worried about it, or caught up in all the hoopla. I figure if any of this does come true, so be it.

I’m not afraid of dying.

What I’m truly afraid of, is not living the life I want and accomplishing the things I’ve been working towards, before I die.

Right now, it seems like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, where there are some decisions I have to make that will more than likely, push me over that edge. I just hope where I fall and end up is in a good place (butterflies and flowers) and not a bad place (dark and dreary).

So, no. I’m not scared of possible disasters, violence, and mayhem, striking our world. What I’m scared about is much worse than that. However, regardless of everything, I’m going to step into the new year with a hopeful smile on my face, and trust in my heart instead of fear of the unknown. I think that’s what we should all do.

Don’t you?

Because in all truth, we never know what tomorrow might bring. Sure, it might be the same as yesterday, or worse, but it could also be something totally awesome.

We just don’t know.

It’s like getting a present each day–we don’t know what kind of present we’re going to get until we wake up and live that day.

Does that make sense?

That’s one of the beauties about life–you just don’t know.

Well, I’m rambling so I better end this post before it gets waaaay out-of-hand.

I hope all of you have a happy and safe new year. :)

Monday, December 26, 2011

A Bundle of Thoughts

Hey! Did everybody have a wonderful holiday? Mine was fine. It was just Kevin and I because our family is in Arizona and Ohio, but it was great to just hang out and not have to be anywhere or do anything.

During the weekend, I worked on chapter nine to my ‘Beyond the Eyes’ series. It seems to me this book is taking a lot longer to write than the other two. I’m discovering it’s a lot harder to write, which kind of frustrates me because I have this sense of urgency to get it done; however, I don’t want to half ass it. In fact, I won’t half ass it because it’s not in my nature to do so, and I love the characters and story. I am having fun writing it, even though it’s taking longer than I thought it would to write.

I was wondering the other day if it’s too presumptuous of me to write a series when I don’t even have an agent, and these were the thoughts that followed that one. . . .

Thought # 1.) You should have written a stand-alone novel because now you would have had two completely different novels finished, which would have given you a better chance at finding an agent to represent your work.

Thought # 2.) More than one person has told you to make this a series because they liked/loved the story and wanted more of it.

Thought # 3.) Every time I thought about making the first novel a stand-alone one, it didn’t feel right. I got this weird, sickening gut feeling, whenever I had contemplated that.

Thought # 4.) Listen to the gut feeling and trust in it.

Thought # 5.) What’s the worst that can happen?

(Mini thoughts spawning off of thought # 5)

A.) I don’t get an agent and publisher for this series.

B.) I self-publish them.

C.) I was completely wrong about the market for a book such as mine, and it didn’t sell as well as I thought.

D.) I wasted years on a 3-book series that went nowhere.

Um, I have to admit, C & D are thoughts that sometimes haunt me.

I hate those scary thoughts, but I’m comforted in the fact that most, if not all writers share in those same thoughts. And when those thoughts raise their ugly little heads, I read this to help me through it. . . .

Risk is the hinge on which productivity turns; if we aren’t in danger of failing, we aren’t growing. When we let fear, prevent us from taking steps that could bring our writing dreams closer, we limit our opportunities to succeed.

I’d read that somewhere on the internet, so I can’t take credit for it. However, it’s so true and helps me through those doubtful, dark times. Also, I think in all honesty, the years I’ve spent writing those books weren’t a waste of time. The reason why I think that is because the more I write, the better I become.

So, no, it wasn’t a waste of time.

It’s not a waste of time.

Not really.

And the thing is, I believe in this story and in myself.

Where is that going to take me?

I don’t know.

I don’t know if it’s the luck of the draw, if our life is already predestined, if we create everything in our life, or if it’s none of the above and something entirely different. All I know is, if I give up, then I should just lay down and die because I can’t stop writing stories, or not believing in my dreams, or not trying to better myself and life.

Seriously.

I mean, really. What’s the point in being here then?

Friday, December 16, 2011

Dreams a Continuation

I was going to write this post last night, but I had a Christmas party to go to.

We dined in a large room at a restaurant /sports bar type facility. After we finished eating, one of the mechanics mentioned parts, and I piped up with a story. Ironically enough, it was about dreaming.

I told them one night Kevin was talking in his sleep, rattling off part numbers, so I asked him (just to see what he’d say) how he knew so much about parts.

In a proud, almost smug voice he said, "Because I’m the shit!"

As everybody in the room busted out in laughter, Kevin leaned next to me and in good humor whispered in my ear. "I’m never going to live this down, ya know."

Probably not, but I thought it was cute and a testament to how hard he works, and his phenomenal memorizational skills.

I mean, seriously. He blows me away with how much he can remember.

Anyway, I was talking about dreams in my last post and was on a roll, so I’m going to see if I can get there again.

While I was doing research on dreams for my book, I was surprised to have discovered there was a civilization in Mesopotamia, which is now part of Iraq, that had existed 5,000 BC whom scientists believe left behind the world’s first book of dreams. The Sumerians believed the gods sent signs to them through their dreams.

The Egyptians also created their own dream book and believed their dreams were messages from the gods as well. They actually got many of their ideas from the Sumerians.

The Greeks also tried to interpret their dreams.

Socrates had a dream vision about going to Pythia–a Priestess who took care of the Oracle at Delphi. Socrates believed his dream meant that he’d be sentenced to death, and he’d go freely to it. And as we know, his prediction came true.

I think dreams have always baffled mankind because it’s an enigma.

Yeah, today we have scientific explanations, mechanically speaking, on dreaming, like there are five different sleep cycles we go through a night, and the average person spends 90 minutes in a dream state. They also know during REM there’s a high level of brain activity, and had determined that stage was associated with dreaming.

I’ve read lengthy articles on scientific data on what happens when we sleep, and why we dream. I think personally though, it’s two separate issues.

Do you know what I mean?

Scientists have proven, when we sleep our body goes through detoxification and repairs itself.

But what about our dreams?

Scientifically speaking, the thalamus and the cerebral cortex are responsible for most thought processes, and are active while we sleep. But even knowing that, scientists don’t have a definitive answer to why we dream. Some people say to organize the brain, to help solve problems, or to cope with trauma. But there are flaws in those theories, so honestly, we don’t really know.

Edgar Cayce believed our deceased friends and family members occasionally visit us in our dream state. Others believe we go to the spirit world every night when we’re asleep.

This is what I think. . . .

We have the body, spirit, and mind.

The body needs to rest and rejuvenate itself. Science has proven that. Also, we all know what happens if we don’t get enough sleep.

So yeah. That one is a given.

The spirit needs the same thing–rejuvenation. So maybe (I say maybe because I can’t prove it) our spirit disconnects, from the body, during our sleep, and rejuvenates itself in the spiritual realm(s).

Our physical body needs food to keep it going, so maybe our spirit travels to the astral planes to keep it going inside the human vessel.

Just a thought.

The mind, on the other hand, is constantly at play. The conscious and subconscious mind is part of the human machine, whereas the superconscious mind is our spiritual mind. So when our spirit disconnects from the body, it leaves behind the conscious and subconscious mind, allowing it to run its programs.

It’s like we’re dealing with two separate entities, and one splits from the other when we sleep. When they reconnect, and we wake up, we sometimes remember the spiritual journey, like visiting a loved one, that was too vivid and real to shake off. But most of the time, we remember these crazy, weird ass dreams. And then there are other times when these crazy, weird ass dreams seem to intertwine with a spiritual encounter.

Maybe that happens because the superconscious mind gets jumbled up with the subconscious, which confuses the conscious mind.

Or maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. LOL.

I don’t know, but it’s cool trying to figure it out and bounce ideas out there. Because seriously, it’s a good way to evolve beyond the perimeters of normal, mundane thought. Also, if you’re a writer or involved in the creative arts, it’ll enrich your work.

So on that note, I better end this post.

Happy Friday!

Monday, December 12, 2011

Dreams

Last Sunday morning I woke up at 3:20 a.m. and had the sudden urge to go downstairs and write.

Did I do that?

No.

Why?

Because the bed was warm and snuggly, and I didn’t wanna. So I laid there and thought, maybe I should because I’d heard if you woke-up at 3:30 in the morning, it was because the Universe was trying to tell you something.

It’s silly, I know.

Anyway, I ignored that urge and began drifting in and out of sleep for a while. Finally, I was able to reach that full-out dreaming stage, only to be jostled and woken up by Kevin getting out of bed.

"Sorry. I was trying not to wake you," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I waved it off and told Kevin, it was okay, even though I was in the middle of a vivid dream and wanted to know what was going to happen next.

Damn.

Don’t you hate when that happens?

I do because it’s like watching a show you’re interested in and the TV station goes out right in the middle of it.

I wonder though, if sometimes your dreams are messages or predictions about your life, given to you from an outside source. If so, that dream I was having contradicts the other dreams I’ve been having lately.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it. I guess I’ll find out in the near or distant future whether it meant anything or not.

Yesterday I was doing some research for my next chapter on dreams. Through my research I discovered that there are people who believe in dream walking. It’s when you enter somebody else’s dream and interact with them. They say you do it through lucid dreaming, which is when you’re aware you’re dreaming.

Huh?

I never knew that.

Sure, I’ve thought about entering other people’s dreams. In fact, sometimes when Kevin and I go to sleep, he’ll tell me he’ll dream about me, and I tell him I’ll see him there. But now I wonder if you can actually do that.

Hmmmm. *scratches head with a perplex look on her face*

Who knows, right?

There are so many things we don’t know about, and I think it’s important to always keep an open-mind because if you don’t, you might be missing out on some pretty awesome stuff.

Anyway, dreams are a mystery.

Yeah, it’s a way to reboot our software, and for our mind to release all the superfluous crap floating around in there. But I wonder if our spirit disconnects, from the body and travels to the other realms. Ancient Chinese tradition believes that.

Did you know the Greeks had dream temples? People would go there to find guidance for their life. They’d do a purification ritual before entering the temple, and then after they had awoken from their dream, they’d consult with the temple’s dream interpreters.

All of this is interesting, and I can see as my fingers keep wanting to type more information about this subject, I’m going to have to do another post just on the mystery of dreams. Right now this post is starting to take on a life of its own, so I better stop here, but I’m not through with this discussion.

Just so ya know. I can talk for hours about this stuff because I’m fascinated with everything paranormal. So until next time. Have a merry Monday. :)

Friday, December 9, 2011

A Silly Poem

Another week has gone by, and as I sit here sipping my coffee, I’m thinking about a poem I had written last weekend, just for shits and giggles.

When I was a teenager, I had notebooks full of poems and stories I had written. I even had a poem published in Quill Books, but honestly, I’m not a poet. I’m a novelist. I’ve had articles published as well, but writing stories is my passion.

Anyway, I wrote this poem and totally cracked myself up. I’ll tell ya why, and then paste it in here so you can see and hopefully have the same visual as I did when I was giggling at myself.

Yeah, I amuse myself. But that’s a good thing, right? I mean, you’re supposed to be your own best friend and like who you are.

Okay, years ago (back in the early 90s) Kevin and I lived in downtown Prescott, Arizona. It was a wonderful place back then and had sort of a hippy, earthy vibe to it. We used to hangout at this coffee shop called, ‘The Full Moon Cafe'’ where they’d have poetry readings. One night, when Kevin and I were there, a hippy chick stood in the middle of the room and read a poem about being a used piece of gum. Kevin and I still snicker about it because it was so funny. In fact, I even wrote a scene similar to it in ‘Beyond the Eyes’, and I crack myself up every time I read it.

Yeah, I’m a dork. But hey, my critique partners thought that scene was funny as well. So I’m not the only one who finds humor in it.

So when I read this poem, I imagined myself in this cafe', standing in the middle of the room. I’m wearing all black with a beret tilted on top of my head, dramatically reading this poem, and when I reach those three words at the end (not the glass), I say it with harsh emotion.

Here’s the poem. Try to visualize that scene.

Tainted

She waits with breath that is bated for the tainted glass to clear.
Head bowed, she softly sings hymns to herself.
Popping sounds like cracking ice, spider webs the glass.
Her fingers feverishly worries over beads of crimson tears.
Dawn turns to dusk and dusk turns to night.
Her breath materializes before her, crystalized on a wolf’s ruff.
Still she waits, a skipped record caught in repetitive motion.
The tainted glass never clears, the cracks frozen in place.
Taut skin withers away like a bird shedding feathers.
A radiant light blows through the glass.
She shatters into brilliant colors.
A joyful squeal erupts like gulls gliding toward the horizon.
Understanding blooms in a vast meadow of eternity.
Branded thoughts of others were tainted, not the glass.
Not the glass!

That’s silly, huh?

Or maybe I just have an odd sense of humor. :)

Oh,well. I thought it was funny.

But did you get it?

The tainted glass was her spirit.

But, see? I’m totally not a poet. I’m sure I could be one if I worked at it.

Oh! In an earlier post I had said we were going to get my first live Christmas tree. I was thinking a cute little 3 or 4 foot tree.

Yeah, well, check this out.
 
 
 
 
 
Um, it’s not little. It’s like almost 7 feet tall.

Kevin wanted a tall tree, so there you have it.

It’s beautiful though.

As you can see, we still have the old, boxy TV. I refuse to buy a flat screen until this TV takes a crap. I mean, really. This TV works perfectly, and I’m happy with it.

Well, have a good weekend you guys and be safe.

HAPPY FRIDAY!

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Ghostly Scents

I should totally be working on my next chapter, but I hopped on my blog and began editing old posts.

Why?

Because I’m a meticulous freak, and I didn’t like the format I had used. There are still some I want to go back and edit, but it’ll have to wait.

I discovered when I was reading posts that I’d already wrote about the mysterious stain I had mentioned a couple posts ago. I had a feeling I already wrote about it, but wasn’t sure until I came across it.

If you haven't read it the post is called, "Another Paranormal Story." The date I posted it was on 08/17/11. I would put a link to it here, but I don't know how to do that.

So since I already wrote about it, I figured I’d write about ghostly scents.

Do you know what I mean about ghostly scents?

It’s a familiar smell that’s associated with the spirit’s human life.

When my great grandpa was alive (technically, he’s more alive now than he was, but I don’t want to get all nit picky about it) he used to smoke a cherry tobacco pipe. After he passed on, his spirit would present itself by filling the room we were in with a thick smell of cherry tobacco.

Seriously.

I remember when I was a teenager; I told my friend James about it. Of course, he totally didn’t believe me and laughed in my face.

I didn’t take offense to it because growing up the way I did; I was used to it. In fact, for years, my friend Jesse used to tease me relentlessly every day at the bus stop about UFOs and aliens. He didn’t do it maliciously, but it did get old after a while.

Anyway, one day James came over my house and the air was thick with the smell of cherry tobacco.

I was like, "See? I told ya so."

Yeah, I had to gloat. Just a little bit.

The next day he told me when he got home, his mom thought he was smoking because she could smell the tobacco on him, and he got in trouble.

Poor, James.

My mom’s dad was an alcoholic, and after he died; he always made his presence known by filling the air with the smell of alcohol.

I know it’s crazy, and I swear I’m not wacky. And I always, always, seek out a logical explanation for things, but the ghostly smells, I can’t explain.

Kevin is a huge skeptic, and it’s not like he doesn’t have an open-mind. He does. But he thinks spirits have better things to do than come back here. Even though, he had experienced the ghostly smells himself.

There had been many times when he’d walk into a room and say, "Man, it smells like a brewery in here."

And then of course I’d say, "It’s grandpa."

Another time was in our car.

Now seriously. Why would our car all of a sudden smell like a brewery when we’re driving down the road?

The only explanation I can come up with is my grandpa wanted me to know he was around.

If those phantom smells only happened once, or maybe even two times, I’d be like, ‘Okay, maybe I’m imagining this, or my sniffer is off, or somebody must have dumped a butt-load of alcohol on the carpet’. But it happened way more than one or two times, and other people had experienced it as well. Therefore, it had to be a ghostly scent.

Am I right?

Monday, December 5, 2011

Merry Monday

Yeah, I know. What’s so merry about Monday? But hey, it’s better than saying miserable Monday, right? And, if you say it’s a merry Monday and act like it’s a merry Monday, it might just turn out to be a merry Monday.

It’s a matter of perspective, changes in attitude, and getting your dopamine juices flowing so you’re feeling gooood. There’s got to be a way to do that, without chemical substances that is. So I’m thinking maybe perspective and change in attitude might trigger it.

Ya think?

I know it gets exhausting to stay on top of having a good perspective and attitude on everything on a daily basis. If only we could control the chemicals in our bodies, life would be a hell of a lot better.

Think about it.

You’re feeling like crap. There’s a knock at the door. You answer it, and . . . OMIGOD! It’s Publisher’s Clearing House, handing you a ten million-dollar check. Do you think you’d still be feeling like crap then?

Hell no!

So why can’t we tap into that chemical and syphon it whenever we want instead of having something exciting happen like PCH coming to our door or whatever to pull us out of our rut?

Do you realize that the human body is nothing but a computerized, chemical machine? It is, and I believe there’s a way to master it. But we’re not going to go there because it’s a deep discussion that should be saved for a quiet night where you’re ready to go down the rabbit hole and put all ideologies aside so your mind is unhampered from the constraints it’s normally under.

Whew! I had to halt myself before my fingers kept pouring out the thoughts that were racing through my mind onto the screen.

Moving along . . .

I’m going to practice having a merry Monday and not think about the fact my roof is still not done.

Seriously.

It’s been what--a month since they started? And it was supposed to have been done two frickin’ months ago. Last Friday the contracter told Kevin he’d be here over the weekend to finish up (they still have two porch roofs to do). But he didn’t show up and now it’s Monday, and he’s still not here.

Aw, crap.

I’m supposed to be practicing having a merry Monday and here I am bitching about the damn roofers.

Oops.

But hey, I caught it before my frustration level jacked-up. That's a start and a good spot to wish you a merry Monday. :)
.

Friday, December 2, 2011

I Love Coffee

I’m not awake yet, it’s almost eight o’clock, and I’m still waiting for the caffeine to kick in (c’mon caffeine!).

Coffee is my friend.

I love coffee.

That’s one of the things I miss since we moved here–coffee shops.

A few years ago, a couple got together and put up one of those coffee shacks where you drive up to the window and tell them what you want ("I’d like a vanilla latte’ please."). But then they moved to Seattle.

*Big sigh*

When I was working at the medical clinic here in town, the girls in my department bought me a cappuccino machine for my birthday.

I had big plans for that machine. I was going to make lots of yummy things with it: vanilla lattes’, chocolate mochas, peppermint mochas . . .

Okay, I’m seriously pining for that now.

Redirect.

What was I saying?

Oh, right. Cappuccino machine. Big plans.

I had big, big, plans for that machine, and even told my coffee loving coworkers, I’d make us some seriously good coffee drinks.

Yeah.

That’s right.

None of that coffee flavor crap where you brew it to get hazelnut or pumpkin spice coffee.

YUCK.

That stuff is nasty.

No. I’d hook us all up with the mouth-watering, so good I almost had an orgasm, stuff.

Yup, it would totally rock.

I even had pictured it in my head. While everybody else would be dragging ass, my coffee buddies and I would be flying through our work and office with a cheshire grin on our face. It would be marvelously fun and wonderful and the day would fly by.

But did it happen?

Hell no.

I quickly discovered when I was making cappuccinos the contraption that made the froth didn’t work. I was so bummed. I even did research on it thinking maybe I was doing something wrong, but I wasn’t. It was the stupid machine.

Oh well.

Hey, I think the caffeine is starting to kick in now. I hope you have a good weekend.

HAPPY FRIDAY!