Tuesday, December 15, 2009

The Not-So-Subtle Approach of Other Worldly Beings

Okay, I know I haven't posted anything in literally ages, but growing older and going to college means lots and lots of responsibilities that are time-consuming. Plus, Facebook is a little addictive, I must admit. Well, I really have to get back on here, because I love being able to write my experiences and thoughts down where they're not overly criticized and torn down just because they are not the 'norm'. What is the 'norm', by the way? I digress--that's for another conversation, at another time. The real reason I'm here is that I have to write something down, something that I just experienced that literally made me jump, physically and violently twitch. Here goes:
I was just sitting down at my desk in my college dorm room, listening to some music, watching a Supernatural clip here and there, when a hand pressed against the left side (from the top of my skull to about an inch above my left ear) of my head. It was an immediate electric jolt that shot through my body, causing it to jerk roughly. The affected area soon fizzed, or buzzed, or--I'm not really sure how to explain it. Kind of like when your foot goes to sleep, and then you have to get up and walk on it. Or maybe when you get a zap from your door handle or something else from static electricity that your feet caused against the carpet. But imagine that a thousand-fold, incredibly powerful, vibrating along your nerve endings but ONLY on a certain, designated area of your body--in my case, my skull.
It fizzed violently for a good half minute before diminishing to a subtle thrum vibration. Then, again, it stayed in that state for maybe a minute or two. Then, suddenly, instead of the odd sensation vanishing, that whole area flared painfully, like somebody had twisted my hair in their hands and yanked viciously. I am not kidding. It still hurts like fricken crazy, and this happened nearly 15 minutes ago.
Since the beginning of the semester, I've sensed something in my dorm room, but it was subtle--very, very subtle. And hey, I'm not bringing this up to my roommate that's, well, pretty much, for lack of a better word (or there are better words, but they're rude) is blah. That's not the way to start off the semester. 'You never need unsay anything that wasn't said in the first place.' A proverb I heard somewhere, once. And for this situation, very, very true.
Now that Blah has moved out, what I've sensed has gained power and energy. Every night when I turn the lights off, I sense it standing in the entryway/hanger/closet, strong and overwhelming. Half the time, I whirl around and flick the lights back on, my heart pounding.
And I never see it with my eyes, but within my mind. Whatever this thing is, it is massive. At least 6'5" and just plain huge, like a body-builder or something, but well-muscled over its complete form. All I can see clearly--or sense clearly--is its eyes. And they are the most ferocious eyes I've probably ever seen in my experiences. They're not evil, just... burning with intensity.
I'm an intense person. I live, breathe, and act intense because my energy is at such a heightened level, that most people are like, "Whoa... she's eccentric." And not in the way that I'm odd, or weird, but that my vibes are very powerful. I find that most people act crazy around me, like screaming at the top of their lungs--when talking will do just fine--or running and jumping around like they're on crack--which I know they don't do. My hypothesis--which is further encouraged by other spiritually and mentally advanced beings--is that either these people are feeding off of or absorbing my excess energy which, for them, leads to an overload of their senses and they just go crazy, or they feel (possibly unconsciously) like they need to act in a heightened state of being just so they're able to be in close proximity with me, to be able to converse with me. So not true. Er, that was on the order of a tangent of the second degree, I think, but, anyways, my point is that this entity--whatever it is--is so intense in its energy that it is so intimidating that it scares the crap out of me. Well, not that much, but enough to thoroughly unnerve me. Back to tonight's event.
I have no idea what 'it' wanted. Whatever it was, it didn't get it--unless it was after my attention, then it got exactly what it wanted. I still feel like a thousand needles were poked into my scalp. Very painful, let me tell you. I still don't know what--or who--this entity is, and honestly, not what it wants, either. If it were evil or malicious, then I wouldn't be living in this room anymore...
Whoa, whoa, whoa...
Okay, touching... touching!
Uh, sorry, I had to stop there for a second. Something brushed from right below my left ear, along my throat and halting at the back of my neck. A slight pressure, soft and gentle, was exerted before it disappeared. Now there's that same electrical buzz on my skin, but it's greatly reduced in intensity and more like a gentle hum or fizz. Very, very subtle.
I wonder.
Was that a signal of encouragement: 'You're on the right track; I'm not here to hurt you!' or was it an apology of some sort?
Look at where I paused mid-sentence. What do you think? Apology or reassurance?
*gasp!*
This just reminded me of other experiences that I have had, here, in my dorm room. My desk has a mini bookshelf right above it, and for the past couple of weeks, things have been flying off the shelf and hitting me in the head. Yesterday, it was my brush. I put it back in its spot, and shook the desk viciously. The brush wriggled, but no, it didn't come flying off of the shelf. Now, that's a little, maybe one pound brush. About a week ago, I had a 3-inch thick, very heavy hard cover book fly off, slam into the top of my head, and fall to the ground. After I stopped cursing from the pain, I realized that my head was barely an inch (in height) below where the book was resting and nearly a foot away from this miniature book shelve. If that would've just been nudged off due to vibrations of me bumping the desk, it would've crashed on my hands and arms, not the very top of my skull, and then bounce to the ground. Something had to pick that thing up and drop it on me.
Okay, this thing wants attention, clearly. Now that it has gotten my attention, what does it want?
And on that note, I've written way too much for this entry. Being verbose isn't a bad thing, but at times it's trying to the readers. And, apparently, I have much on my mind that I need to get down and out on paper, or in my case, since it's a blog, into cyberspace. Adieu, my friends. Another time, and hopefully soon, at that.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

A New Beginning That Began With an Ending

I think I just watched the last moments of someone's life, and I don't like it. Not one bit. You know who did though? The guys galloping through the open door, shouting excitingly. They were pressing their noses to the dirty window, seven floors above the city, trying to catch a glimpse of the student who was sprawled across the street.
I didn't even realize what had happened until a bunch of girls ripped the Study Room's door nearly off it's hinges, and dashed to the window. Curious, I got up, and looked outside, down 60 feet to the intersection below.

At first I just thought it was a crowd, until some of the people moved, and I saw a woman lying half on the median, but mostly in the street. She had been hit by a passing car and her body rested 20 feet away from the intersection. Her friends were sobbing frantically, hands over their faces, while people just milled about, no idea what to do.
It seemed like an hour had passed before I heard sirens. I tried to see what direction they were coming from--all directions. It took a good 15 minutes before a cruiser arrived and moved the group people to the sidewalk.
Students in the room were going, "Aw, man, some girl got smashed! ... AWEsome! Anybody see the impact?"
"Yeah, exciting, isn't it? Wish I'd seen it happen..." another added.
Angrily, I snapped, "You wouldn't think it was so exciting if was you lying there, now would you?"
Of course, they thought I was just some crazy woman. Ha, maybe I am. Still, in this wayI believe I am sane. I couldn't help but be disgusted with these people.

As I watched the ambulance arrive, I couldn't believe that they weren't helping her. Well, yeah, they put her on a stretcher, and then into the ambulance--but they didn't go anywhere!
By now, pretty much everyone had left because, well, there was really nothing more to see, was there? I stayed and watched, silently encouraging the drivers to go, but the vehicle remained stationary. About 10 minutes later, the coroner showed up, parking next to the ambulance. Then I knew she was dead.
Turns out the occupants of the car had bailed out after they'd crossed the bridge. As the car was speeding from the bad part of town, I can surmise that it was stolen.
I found out later that the girl was a student residing in my dorm, and that this was her first year of college. Well, doesn't that just suck. I really feel for her parents.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Life Is A Tragedy

Today's (or tonight's, rather) Statement:
Life is a tragedy we must all endure. A beautiful and daunting tragedy. The unknown is meant to be unraveled, and we each play a part in this grandiose plot we call Life. Yes, life is an ethereal tragedy, don't you agree?

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Just Another One Of "Those" Moments

Today's Statement:
I wish I could cry. I wish the tears would fall. But what will not come, will not wither. So this pain I will keep inside, inside of me forever. And Life will carry me onwards, as if this moment had never even happened. What will I do when I have nothing but moments like these? When my life is nothing more than bitter memories, and heavy burdens that drag me down, that hold me back? How will I survive?

Friday, June 26, 2009

Moments of Eventual Insanity

*stretches*
Where to begin?
Um, everywhere?
Okay, it's been a while--granted, a LONG while--since I've posted anything, or more, anything not so... depressing. Gotta change that. But, do I want to change it from depressing to disturbing? 'Cause that's what I've been experiencing--dream-wise, that is. Haunting images I can disperse--especially at night, when I'm just ready to fall asleep. Then, as if it were always there, I can feel a presence next to me and I jerk awake, desperately searching and hoping to see nothing. All I can do is turn my light on, and try to dispel these images from my mind. Some nights I can, others the image is always within my grasp.
What shocks me is that when I have these dreams, and the moment I awaken with them fresh in my memory, I have absolutely no fear, or disgust, or repulsion flooding through me--just a sense of, well, dismissive wonder. It's later when I talk about said dream, that I become disturbed. The images are vivid, so vivid. One in particular that I will never, ever be able to repel, that I'm sure will stay with me forever is the one thing no one could even conceive of occurring, of seeing themselves.
The macabre of such a possibility--not to mention waking up gasping, fumbling frantically for the light switch, sure it's lying right next to you, waiting for you, you waiting for it--that this scene, this moment coming true is immediate, imminent.
Have you ever had an image, whether it was created in reality, in a hallucination, or just in a simple daydream horrify you to the point of near insanity, where it's the only thing you can see, either with your eyes or your mind? Well, I'm there.

Sensuous Spin

Today's statement:
There's something... surprisingly sensuous about spinning slowly in a chair, and watching your surroundings move with such fluidity that makes you want to believe that that one moment will never end. It is... utter freedom.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Ultimate Fresh Start

Another Statement for Today:
Death is only the beginning. And I feel like a fresh start is just what I need.

The Cancer Within

Today's Statement:
There is a cancer inside me: my chest, my brain, my soul. An energy, soul-consuming entity that is intent on tearing me to shreds. If I could, I would take a knife to my body to rip this sickness out from within me. It has a name. Do you know it?

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Hell Hath No Fury Like Me

Today's Statement:
I'm SO furious, so out-of-control angry, that the only vent I have is to SCREAM. But, here's the kick--I can't do it in person, so, in the center of my hollow chest, a mini-me is standing on the beach of an endless sea screaming incessantly. There is no end, just a continuous onslaught of throat-tearing screams.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Will I Ever Meet Anyone?

Will I ever meet anyone who will actually love me? Not sure. Nearly 21 and still a virgin. Not that it matters--I don't care about having sex. And I'm not obsessed enough about it to go find some guy and screw him. I just wonder, does no one find me attractive? Does no one want to be close to me? Screw sex! I want a guy who just wants me AS I AM. A guy who wants to be close to me, and wrap his arms around my waist, and just snuggle. Will I ever have that?
Probably not something I should write about on here, but, honestly, where else can I write this down? Definitely not MySpace or Facebook.
Here, I have anonymity. Also, a wide range of readers with infinite, non-discriminative point-of-views may help me here. I'm up for any comments you may have. Some help, please?

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Truth Within the Subconcious Reality

I had the most unusual dream about a week ago.
Usually when I have dreams about ghosts or the supernatural, they contain people I've never met before, but this one had my brother in it. Not just a generic "brother" substitute--his actual face, body, attitude, etc. Most unusual.
Also, (but not as unique) my mother was part of my dream, too, but distantly.
Now, it's odd, because in my dreams, the layout of houses, towns, rooms, etc. don't look like anything I've ever seen, especially in real life but here, here in this dream, everything looked exactly like it does in the town I live in.
Most of it is lost in the Oblivion where most of my dreams go, but I do remember the end of it--quite vividly. Is it possible that I remember just this one part because it's so... so shocking and unexpected? Or is it because the images that I saw are a subconscious realization of my brother's abilities--though he tries desperately to deny their existence? I wonder...
I suppose that is a long enough introduction/backstory, so I'll get into the whole point of this entry.
I was at the store, getting groceries for dinner. While I was entering the store, I saw Brian, and asked him what he was doing there. He told me that he had had Rascle (our missing kitty) in his car, but when he got out to get something to drink, Rascle escaped. He was asking people if they had seen him and was showing them a picture he held of Rascle.
When I left the store, Brian was still standing out there, showing shoppers the picture of Rascle. I was the last car to leave--I had plenty of groceries to pack away. As I'm driving out of the parking lot, and down the street, I see my brother standing in the lot, talking to an elderly woman. In shock, I recognized her as our maid that had gone missing about two months earlier. (We by then--in the dream, remember!--had gotten a new maid, a much younger girl with honey-blonde hair.) Her long, thin, dark brown hair was twisted smartly up in a bun at the back of her head. Her sharp eagle-like eyes stared straight ahead, gazing into an open (and empty) field across the road. They were standing about 10 feet away from the soda machines that lined the store's outer brick wall.
I knew immediately what had happened, and turned the car around to explain the situation to him. I could sense his frustration growing. I pulled up and parked not too far from him. When I walked up to him, he turned and said, "She won't tell me if she's seen Rascle! She won't even look at me! What's her problem!?"
I sighed and replied, "Brian, she can't see you. I'm blown away that you can see her."
"What do you mean, "you can see her"? Of course, I can see her! She's RIGHT THERE!" He turned, his arm raising to point his finger at her. His jaw dropped in shock, and his arm froze. "Wh-where'd she go?"
"Brian, in a sense, she was never here."
"What do you mean? I was just talking to her!"
"I know who she is, Brian, and I don't think she's alive."
"What are you talking about?"
"The woman you were just trying to get a response from worked for Mom and I, helping around the house. She disappeared a couple of months ago, and I haven't seen her since. Up until now, that is. Brian, I think she's dead."
"She can't be dead, I was just looking at her!"
"Her ghost. You could see her, but she couldn't see you."
"I can't see dead people!" he declared, turning white.
I almost laughed. "Well, you just did." I eyed him for a moment, musing. "Brian, don't be so shocked, it runs in the family. I've been seeing ghosts most of my life, and Mom since she was a baby." I told him.
He glanced at me with the widest eyes I'd ever seen.
"Don't you remember the stories she's told? And remember Mikel?"
"Who?"
"The man you 'saw' once in the doorway upstairs, and you were so scared you flew all the way down them?"
"How do you know his name?"
"Because, Brian, I've been seeing him for nearly two decades. I first saw him when we were two."
"How do you know his name?" he repeated.
"He told me."
With that last statement, and his terrified & bewildered expression, my dream began to fade away.
Moments later, I woke up, thinking, "Whoa..." Since when have my dreams ever been as real, yet, as not real as that? What I mean by that statement is that my dreams, well, they're always a mystery (in origin). Very rarely do I have dreams that have any immediate and obvious relation to things I've seen or experienced in real life. Usually, they occur in places unknown, with people unknown. So, to have my actual brother and mother in a dream (especially together) is out of this world--so to speak.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Plans

Well, it's been nearly a month since I've last written on here. What can I say? Classes started on the 26th--I've been incredibly busy. School is keeping me busy, that's for sure. I wonder, where will I be in a year? How about two years? Three? My plans, oh, my plans are never ending and ever expanding.
Plan numero uno: Move the hell outta Dodge, and go (hopefully) to Milwaukee to acquire a Bachelor's Degree in Geology (and maybe even in Atmospheric Sciences). DONE!
Plan numero dos: Move to Colorado, near Boulder. Possible Vail or Colorado Springs.
Plan numero tres: Become a Professor at a college nearby.
I know--those will take time, a lot, in fact.

Other, nearer goals are:
Numero uno: Get a job and make some money for the fall. DONE!
Numero dos: Take a trip to Apostle Islands with my mom (and possibly my brother).
Y numero tres: Send some photographs in to a museum in San Diego and achieve recognition.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Misery Can Kill the Soul and Ravage Its Sanity

Misery can kill. And it is killing me. Tearing my chest apart, my heart into pieces...
How can I feel this way, when I love myself for who I am?
And how can my insides feel like a barren wilderness, when I know I have so much to offer to my friends, my family, the world?
Maybe it's the love I never received from a father who never cared...
Of that I am sure, but... could it be for another reason as well? I don't know...
What I want to know, though, is why when I decide to finally cut myself free of him (several times) that soon afterwards an event occurs that causes the scars in my heart to be torn open and the savage agony to be felt anew?
How can he have such power over me? I know what others would say, "He doesn't have the power or the control. You are the one giving him your power, power over your emotions."
Okay, yeah. So? That I know. What I need to know is how to change it. When I know that, I will finally be free. I just hope that knowledge comes soon, before it is too late and the hole in my chest consumes me. Then I will be nothingness, a black hole of misery.

But, will it even matter?
This world is made up of billions of people. And each of us, we are just made of dust. That is all we are. So when I have faded, either in misery or through time, there will be nothing left of me. Not even reminders that a woman who felt, who loved, who lived in pain, ever existed.
Not that it matters. If there were others who did remember me, even if I became a very historical person, such as Susan B. Anthony, if I am to fade into dust, then those who remember me will as well. We will all turn into nothing but tiny windblown particles that will have existed for just a moment, to be lost in time.
No, it does not even matter...

The Barren Wilderness That Is The Hole In My Chest

Today's Statement:
I have so much to offer; so why do I feel so barren within?

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Bald Eagles

On my way to campus today, I saw a bunch of huge birds flying and diping through the sky in a group. I looked closer. It wasn't until they flew over me that I saw that they were bald eagles.
Stunned, I watched, twisting in my seat, until I could no longer see them. It's unusual to see just one bald eagle. I saw three!
Three bald eagles, flying together through the sky.
Now, that's a sight to see. I doubt I'll ever see anything quite like that ever again.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

A Difficult Task: Understanding the Afterlife

I want to say this--need to say this.
My uncle "died" November 23rd. But I do not consider him "dead". Yes, his body, the shell that carried his soul, is gone; his soul has been released from its physical cage made of flesh and bones. He is free from pain, and from suffering which he had endured for much too long.
I've been thinking of him lately. I know he's here, that he's watching. I can feel him.

This makes me wonder, if more people had my... sensitivity... would we as a race be so afraid of death? Consider it an end to all things? No, my friends. Death is just the beginning. From there we can see the past, the present, the future--all occurring at once--and we won't be afraid for there is nothing to fear. We just are. There, in that state, there is only the now, not the later, or the earlier, just this one moment in time that we are experiencing.
But that is just beyond the curtain, something we can't see--most of the time. Some people can see beyond the thin barrier, and what we see we almost never understand. That, therefore frightens us, and can give us more fear about our afterlife rather than a comphrensive understanding which will eradicate all confusion, hesistation, and terror.
Hey, I'm just like anybody else: I see many things that frighten me, mostly because I don't understand them, others because I know there is no way to protect myself from them. I mean, locked doors don't hinder those beings.
I believe the Dawn of a New Age is upon us, I truly do. It will be a while in coming, but when it does, I know many doors will open, possibilities will bloom for our species and the planet as a whole. Life as we know it will change.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Solitude in Conceptual Awareness

Can a tiny fissure, a tear, a rip in your heart, in your soul, ever be healed?
Yes, a heart can be broken. And that break may be healed, some way, some how.
But what if a heart isn't broken? What if it's just fractured?
I wonder... Could it be healed? (To answer this question, step out of the box of preconceived conclusions. Don't follow step after step. Skip a few. Take a leap forward to find the answer, then go back to the theory and look at the result with newly opened eyes.)
Or could a heart be torn apart so violently by someone's actions, someone's deeds, that it can never be fixed? Would it be better to fall into a consciousness of nothingness, that is to say, a silent and willing release? Rebirth would be a better word, actually.
Could someone go on living when there is no life to live?
Is the dawning of a new day the death of the prior? (Or does it just meld with other days of past to resound as one moment, united by time?)

This is what consumes my mind at times.
Can you see why it is hard for me to connect with many people?
How can I talk to people, completely give myself over to them, if my musings are far more... What is the right word? Not advanced. Not scintillating.
No, I don't think there is a word for it.
Ha, how stupid of me. There isn't a word to describe what can't be described. How could there be?

I am resilient; I am strong. I know this. So why do I feel the way I feel at times? Why do I contemplate things, certain concepts most people can't even conceive? I guess the only answer here is that there is no answer. Some things are just meant to be contemplated, not really known.

Ah, Life's Mysteries.

Unforgettable

Universal
I will remember this day for the rest of my life.
Maybe not the date, maybe not the exact time, but the moment... This moment will never be forgotten.

I wish I could go into detail about this, but I can't. I can't... I can't tell you.
This feeling, this aching pain in my heart... it's not something anyone could ever understand. Not until they feel it themselves.
How can tears, something so small, feel so heavy, so hot?
Is it a psychological perception? The thought that they are heavy and that they burn--is it because your heart is heavy and consumed with sorrow? Is this heaviness racking my heart due to a release of burdening emotions?
I don't know.
And... and I don't think I want to.


Sometimes, just sometimes, things are better left unknown... unsaid... forgotten...

Epiphany

I had a realization today. An epiphany.
After years of being told I’m ugly, something to be despised, I believed it. I believed that. I believed that no one could ever love me because I was so disgusting to look at. After years of an abusive father, and endless days of being tormented by school bullies, I thought myself as not worth the price of air, to be lower than the scum on someone’s shoe.
It’s taken me a long time—a very slow process—to change that belief.
It started out slowly, little pieces of glowing disbelief, here and there. Once every great while I would look in the bathroom mirror—in the middle of getting ready for school or some such thing—and stop in amazement. I would see somebody I didn’t recognize. Who was this olive-tone skinned, vibrant chocolate-brown haired, flush-pink full lipped, intelligent eyed girl’s reflection in the mirror?
Yes, it started slowly. Only in the last couple of years has this feeling, this thought, this belief began to bloom, expand, proliferate. Instead of it happening once every couple of months, it began to happen once every month, then several times a month. Now, it seems as if every time I look in that silver-coated reflective surface I see what I thought never existed. My beautiful soul and my intelligent mind were not hindered by an ugly physique—which is all most people look at—but enhanced by a beautiful body and an even more beautiful face.
And now, now I whenever I think of this, this transformation, I can feel a warm golden glow inside my chest. A better way to describe this is to imagine a black hole, an empty space full of self-loathing and insecurity. But, suddenly there’s a little shining star, the size of a grain of sand, just materializing out of nowhere. That little star dispersed light into the darkness, creating a glimmer of hope, a minute trickle of the dawning of the inherent truth that could only be found in time and within one’s essence. With time, that little sparkling star grew to become a radiating sun, bigger than a sizable mango. A flickering, flowing sun that burns with self-satisfaction—not pretentious, but a sense of confidence, of trust, of certainty in oneself—and hope and love and above all, serenity. Serenity in being true to myself, in being content with who I am, and being unafraid to walk my own path. That is what this epiphany has laid out before, and within, me. In my mind’s eye, I can see this sun revolving in my chest; I can feel—when I focus—the heat, the warmth, and the intense yet gentle feeling of being whole, at one with the Universe, at one with myself.