time just got away from me - the rest of stuff

before I fell off the face of the earth a bit there, I mentioned that I was going to see about going back to *Bucks to make some extra money.

I applied. I let a candle.

I never heard back.

The funny thing about intention is that the universe hears and answers. A couple of days after I lit that candle, a friend of mine contacted me about a job opportunity in Customer Service at the company she worked for. the pay and benefits were awesome and the opportunity meant that I would work from home. i missed working with the public.

a couple of days after that, I met a man at the airport who owns a cabinet shop in town. He was suggested that he might have an opportunity for a woman with my skill set. i missed working in construction.

I pursued both.

I now work at home. the increase in salary was enough that I was able to replace my darling Honda with something newer and sportier (still don't know if my booth set up will fit in there). I don't worry about getting stranded somewhere and having  to call someone to pick me up. not that my Honey ever let me down. but she was 14 and had 200+ hard miles on her. She was getting increasingly leaky. I nearly cried when I said goodbye.

I love my Nissan.

I learn something new every day. I feel challenged. I feel like my brain is active. I can pay my bills. I am blessed.

Of all the habits for a ghost to have

I was sitting in my living room the other night, watching Bones, of course, when I was overtaken by an odor. The front door and windows were closed.

Suddenly, my house smelled like pot.

I'm certain that at some point in the past, I have ranted about how much I dislike the drug and the smell of the drug and anything that has to do with the drug.

You can speak to me all day long of medicinal properties, and while I will admit there likely are many, I still don't like it. Yuo aren't going to change my mind. This is a lifelong hatred with many levels of reasoning behind it and quite frankly, I don't think I need to fix it, I'm fine with hating pot.

I went outside, and sure enough, there was an odor out there too, so it's very likely that the smell came in through the back door, which is actually close to the front of my house.

Which means that either someone was smoking pot close enough to my house that I could smell it at my front and back doors and along the path in between (without me hearing footsteps or alerting the dog) OR my ghost has a very unwelcome habit.

I think there is a ghost in my house

If you have known me for any amount of time, you'll know that I believe wholeheartedly in the afterlife. I also believe in reincarnation and the unversal conciousness and all sorts of hibbity bibbity, but we aren't talking about that right now.  I don't talk about it often because most people think that I am nuts, but please understand that I was raised in a houshold where psychic skills were not only believed in but fostered. Otherworldly things existed. And the study of them was encouraged.

Adulthood has not dampened my belief in these things, in fact, experience has shown me that there's some crazy ass shit out there that can't be explained by "normal" explinations.

Like static on a digital recorder, recording in a basment with no other electronics. Doors opening, voices heard, faces in pictures, and smacks on the butt when no one else is in the room.

I don't talk about it as much as I used to because well, people think I'm nuts. And I am, a little, but I'm also okay with that.

Ghosts. Ghosts have been a part of my world since I was a very little girl. I am fortunate in that run ins with them when I was little were never pooh-poohed as my imagination. My parents asked questions and encouraged me to talk to them and about them.

So I do. When in the right company.

When I moved into the Elfin Cottage, I sensed there was something there, but I explained to it that this was my house now and that we would have to exist with respect to each other. Other than a few noises that can be easily explained by the settling of a nearly 60 year old house build on sand in an earthquake prone area with lots and lots of wind, well, I try to explain with the mundane first. Things have been quiet for quite awhile.

Enter Doug. Not long after Doug moved in, he complained on FB that he had "demon dreams". Not good. I've heard the sigh of a demon and it was chilling. Turns out he was experimenting with skills he shouldn't having only hard about them on TV read about them on the internet. I warned him to please be careful. That precautions have to be taken or bad things can happen.

The next night I heard, quite clearly from his room, a gravelly voice. It was late, the TV was off, and it was definately not Doug. My impression was not that we were in danger, but that he was being warned not to be messing with stuff he isn't familliar with.

Last week, I returned home from work and Doug told me he thought I had been home earlier, as he heard very distinct footsteps in the (ceramic tile) hallway. The next night, I was in the living room watching Dr Who when I noticed a shadow passing in front of my studio door. The light was on in there. The dog was with me. I thought Doug might be lurking, but he was in his room. I turned out the light. and decided to tell you about it.

The truth is that I am not as perceptive as I was when I fist moved to N Nevada. I realized that it's because I don't tell ghost stories anymore. The people I spend my time with aren't into that sort of thing and I get it.

I realized that it's time to start talking again. And maybe pulling out that little digital recorder and seeing what I can pick up.

Arbitor of my Reality

In my line of work, I come across a lot of business names. Some are silly, some are boring, and some create a word picture like no other.

Today I happened across one that made me think. that happens sometimes too. Then I lose my train of thought and forget to tell you all about whatever I was thinking about. That's the real reason that sometimes I don't blog often. The other reason is it's all drama. Lately, I'm trying to hide the drama.

Not the point.

The name of the business was something about engineering. and reality, which got me to start thinking, what if we could go to a company and have them create our reality? What if we could walk in, tell them what we want, and they make it our life?

What would you choose?

I believe, ultimately, that we ARE the engineers of our reality. That we create our worlds with our thoughts as well as our actions. You HAVE to take action though. It doesn't do yo any good to just sit and want your life to change, you have to take an active role in it.

So I have to ask again, what would you do if you knew you could choose your reality?

I know what I want next. It just seems as though I get in my own way. Sigh.

Positive thinking, right?

An unexpected goodbye

I am the kind of person who will occasionally wake up, get dressed, and put a rock in my pocket before I leave the house.

My reasons for this are sometimes spiritual and sometimes purely for the joy of having a rock in my pocket. I like rocks. Always have.

Having rediscovered a favorite the other night, I decided to pop my shiva lingum in my pocket yesterday and off I went, promptly forgetting about my pocket payload. (picture is from this website if you would like your very own sacred stone from india!!)

Fast forward to afternoon when, after sitting for a very long time, I decided to take a walk. Just as my coworker from the cube over walked by. I acctidentally bumped the rock in my pocket and was reminded that the coworker next door loves rocks like I do. So I decided to share.

I pulled the stone from my pocket, handed it to her to see, and she thanked me wholeheartedly! And in my mind I went CRAP!! I can't argue though, apparently, she was supposed to get that rock. And really, if there's anyone I would want to share my collection with, it's her. She loves it. She declared it a dinosaur egg and I suggested that it might hatch a pterodactyl. After all, it was her neighborhood that housed the burning pterodactyl last week. One never knows.

What I do know is that my favorite holy rock decided to move on today and I don't think it could have picked a better place to go.

An answered prayer

I believe, that when we ask for what we want, be it from ourselves or from the universe or from God, however it is that you ask, that we get it. This is why I stopped making wishes. It isn't that I don't believe in them, the trouble is that I wholeheartedly DO. And as such, my wishes have often come true (eventually) but not always how I thought I wanted them to.

One has to be VERY specific with the universe.

So the other night, I tried to form my prayer for my friend in a manner that would help her without hurting anyone. It wasn't easy because while I can ask all day for a cure for her son, I know that it is possible that it's too much to ask for. Her boys are with her for a reason and I believe that it's because she is the best mother they could have.

Don't get me wrong, I still asked for a cure for whatever ails her younger son. That he would wake up one day and be all better from whatever it is that causes him to be disabled.

But if I couldn't have that, I wished for her to have a little bit of a break.

Yesterday she posted on FB that the boys were going to school for the first time in a long time and that she was going back to bed for a little while to catch up on lost sleep from being up all night with her son.

I almost cried. Coincidence? Probably. But I don't care. My prayer was answered. I am grateful.

Wisdom from the magic pirate head

I asked the magic pirate head today the following question:

"Will I meet a nice man to date?"

To which he answered,

"No Way, ARRG!"

So of course I had to ask,

"Will I meet a mean man to date"

And he said,

"Aye, Captain!"

So you see? The ever truthful oracle says it's assholes for me so I'm going to stop trying to pick out the nice ones.

I'm looking forward to getting out of this funk and back to feeling confident and fulfilled again. I like me best that way.

Tales of a Cookie Thief

I'm not sure if I have mentioned the Cookie Thief, my most recent coworker addition (I think in November or December, but, whatever) and the only man (or woman) in my building who was foolish enough to ask if I was gonna eat my cookie. My bosses? figured out within a week that cookies are the way to my heart.

The Cookie Thief is an odd duck. Sometimes we have very interesting conversations about very intelligent things, and sometimes, he drives me crazy.

Today he drove me crazy. Now, I don't talk politics very often and that's mostly because I have learned not to. There are just some people in this world who have their opinion and there isn't another. CT's opinion today was that it is Barak Obama's fault that the stock market took a down turn today. Never mind that it's been up and down like crazy lately. I announced that if tanks when I fart. While he tried to back up his reasoning about various wonders of GWB, with what he referred to as fact, I pointed out that technically I don't have to believe in anything unless I see it for myself, something I consider frequently when offering opinions about things. If I didn't see it and experience it, it might not be true.

Mostly, I was being obnoxious. Partially I was trying to prove a point. Just because he says it's so, doesn't mean it is. (by the way, I have decided that the moon may be made of cream cheese because it's white. I don't know that it isn't because I have not tasted the moon. No, I would NOT like to taste YOUR moon cheese. eeew)

After coming and going from my office all day spouting the same doomsday crap about how Obama is going to run us into the ground, I finally announced that I didn't want any more politics in my office. That they were stressing me out. I didn't mention the part where they were keeping me from working. So he and another coworker with whom I don't always agree, turned to the theory that the world will end.

The name Nostradamus came up.

I have a particular dislike of the predictions of Nostradamus.

You see, he predicted an earthquake. (according to my step dad. I've never read his predictions and therefore cannot say whether he did.) That earthquake was supposed to be "the big one" (heh. I said big one...) and California was supposed to fall into the sea. It was May 1993.

I was 15 and had been on backstage crew for my high school musical. The one W was lead in. The one where he once kissed me backstage in between scenes. Just a little kiss, but EVERYTHING to a 15 year old with a crush. I thought I would fly away.

I only got to crew one night though. My parents made me go out to the desert property to wait for the earthquake. Out to the middle of the desert where we would be safe from falling buildings. How I envied Seester who was old enough to announce that she would take her chances in the city. I wanted to stay behind with her. My responsibilities to the play were nothing. My desire to attend the cast party fell on deaf ears.

At the predicted time on the predicted day, I sat on a bench and waited. For an earthquake that never came.

Fuckin Nostradamus.

I told my coworkers the shortened version of this story. They started to argue. I kicked them out of my office. And emailed B.

I would like to introduce Bradendamus. Who will now be my personal Soothsayer. And I shall pass along his predictions to you. Complete with sound effects.


"In 15 days, I predict a dog will eat something out of your trash, and not clean up after himself..."

**sound of thunder**

And:

"And your roommate will leave bits of her clothing you do not want to see around for your consternation."

**boom**

These things have to be recorded somewhere, right? (yes, the sound effects are his...)

Honoring

We all choose to honor out ansestors in different ways. Some visit thier graves regularly, some build elaborate alters.

The dissolution of my family has bothered me for many years. It seems as though it began with the passing of my great grandmother and Joe in 1995 (it was disfunctional long before that) and it was definately sped along by the death of my grandmother.

When my father went to jail the first time after her death, I was the one who took him to the courthouse. He called me at work and told me that I was the only one he could trust. It was at that time that he gave me power of attorney so that I could take care of things while he was incarcerated. I was supposed to live in the house, but couldn't. that's a story for another day. As we drove there, I think he believed that he would get off with a warning. The judge was not feeling altogether friendly towards him that day and threw him in. I hope you never have to experience the pain of watching your father led away in handcuffs.

I took the opportunity while he was gone to salvage a few things from the house. He had told me to take them, for safe keeping, although he denys that now. I wish I could have taken more, but I didn't like going there. I grabbed what I could. The rocking chair that belonged to my great great grandmother. The one my sister wants to rock her babies in. My grandmother's wooden clogs, remnants of her childhood living with her father in a Dutch Colony in Iowa. (someone used them as an ashtray) and China. one box and one large bin of china. I wasn't able to take it all. It was the rest of the china that we wanted from the storage unit, along with the antiques. Much of the China was gathered overseas during World War II. Some of it from Occupied Japan. This was my family legacy since Daddy spent all the money and cashed in all the stocks.

When the fires raged through San Diego County in 2003, when I could clearly see the flames and my electricity was out, I packed up my critters, the china, rocker, some clothes and pictures and left. I stayed at C's house in the valley. The heirlooms went where I went that week.

It all stayed in boxes. I moved it several times but never had a place for it. It has always bothered me. I feel as though my grand and great grand parents are unhappy with the way things went. The Ma is turning in her grave and if GG and joe had graves (creamated) they would be turning back flips. They used to make thier presence knowing in the house. They are not unhappy that I had not unpacked the china, it's everthing else.

Today I brought home a china cabinet. I finally found one at the right price. the REALLY right price. I spent the day washing dishes and filling it up. When I was done, I finally felt as if I had done something to honor their memory. I finally felt peace. It is the peace you feel when you know that you have done the right thing. I know it's just stuff. I know that my ansestors are not really spiritually attached to it. I hope that they're drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and talking shit in the afterlife. Something in me says they aren't. But something also tells me that I did something today that makes it a little more right.

there is an undenyable relief in it.

Of Pirates and worms

My friend Eddie sent me this. This time, I KNOW I heard a can of worms being opened...For her or against her, This may not have been the best of ideas. I think the people in charge are going to be awfully busy sifing through the replies...

http://www.hillaryclinton.com/action/firstpost/?sc=x101

In other news, I found this on someone's blog yesterday. I'd tell you whos, but I can't remember. All I know is that I linked from Mist1, because I figure if I go to every person on her list, I might be able to figure out which one is her sister.

http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2-2007030500,00.html

Um. They look kind of bulky and uncomfortable.

Wayne came in last night all concerned that I was offended by their use of the stinky weed. I told him it doesn't offend me, I just don't care to associate with it. That doesn't mean I can't hang out and be friends, I will just be skipping the pot parties. Since CC came in too, I was reminded that he is cute and interesting and that I MUST stick to my principles. Without principles, what do I have? What kind of person would I be if I made exception for the first handsome face that tested them?

Wayne also said he had a friend he wants to introduce me to. Someone my age and "strait" as in doesn't do anything he isn't supposed to do. Which sounds terribly dull to me, but, Wayne thinks of me that way so it's obvious he sees what he wants to see and makes his opinions. I mean, I know I'm a bit on the goody-two-shoes side of things but I also know how to have a good time.

SO ANYWAY, I decided that this called for a visit to my favorite Oracle. When I got home, I went strait to the Magic Pirate Head and asked if I would be interested in said friend. It said I would. So I asked if we would date. and the answer was, "Yo Ho, Maybe So!" I left it alone after that. Interesting. Since it said I won't be meeting the next man I will date this week, I don't have anything to be worried about.

I'm starting to become frightened of my reliance on the advice of the Magic Pirate Head. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop, It just means that I might have a problem.

I might have another problem too. Last night I wandered into the bathroom at work because I had business in there. Do you know what I found? Wool. Tucked into the waistband of my underwear. Sheep's wool. No a lot, but enough to tell me that I spend way too much time playing with wool in my house and not enogh time watching TV and drinking beer.

Ok. I don't drink beer. and I spin while I watch TV. But that's not the point. I mean, when I worked in the cabinet shop, I understood how I got sawdust in my bra and I kind of understood how I would end up with sawdust in my underwear. But wool. Wool doesn't go there. What the fuck?

GASP! I realized that I miss my own bloggerversary. It's been two years since I started spewing madness into the world wide web. Here is my very first post...

http://ginamonster.blogspot.com/2005/01/where-to-begin.html

And once from a year ago...

http://ginamonster.blogspot.com/2006/01/things-that-are-difficult-to-say.html
http://ginamonster.blogspot.com/2006/01/applause-from-mens-section.html

apparently we had a two-fer last Jan 24.

Best wishes to you all. I'm off to ponder life.

I'll never doubt again.

until the next time, of course



So, anytime I have a question or want to feel like I don't have control over my destiny, I ask the Magic Pirate Head. and really? it hasn't been wrong. well, except about a few things that remain to be seen. Tonight, I finally got around to asking it about Coffee Crush. After a lot of "No way, matey" answers, it finally told me to walk the plank. So I said, fine, I'll ask a question I know the answer to, just to prove it wrong.

"Will I ever talk to Biker Bob again"

"Clear Sailing ahead"

HA! I thought, that is SO not true, he's not in my life anymore.

Tonight he walked into my store. And hung out for awhile. We made small talk. It was awkward and really quite freaked me out. partially because I really never expected to see him again, and partially because the Magic Pirate Head said I would. and then I did. Coincedence? maybe.

On the flip side, Coffee Crush and I actually had conversation over it. Because Wayne was saying all sorts of mean things. I tried to stress that it just wasn't a good match. Not a good fit. That he's a good fellow beyond his grizzled look (he has allowed his beard to grow and was wearing clothes that I wouldn't leave the house in, but I am not him, and he should be comfy in his clothing). That I am not ashamed of having dated him, we just weren't right for each other. But conversation. That's a good thing.

Wayne, of course, helped the conversation take a mildly naughty turn when it appeared that CC pointed out my boobs and asked if they were free (No, they'll cost you dinner) Sometimes I both curse and bless that man in the same breath.