This blog will likely be a confessional of mine, a place where I can freely put down my musings and thoughts. Feel free to read this whenever you like, more free to comment. You'll learn a lot about me, I promise. And, as always, feel free to PM me if you feel the need to discuss something. All this being said, let us continue.

Confession One:
I have short-term memory problems. Sometimes, these issues will become "severe" enough as to cause momentary "blank spots" in my daily timeline. It happens occasionally, though more so when under stress (sucks to be a college student, ne?). Sometimes I will not realize that I have undergone one of these moments until I have been asked to recall what I have done during a particular span of time. Once, during a movie marathon, the first movie had just ended and the second was beginning.  However, I suddenly realized that I could not recall what movie I had just finished (despite having watched it for two hours) until nearly twenty minutes later. I was panicking and trying my hardest not to cry the entire time.

And, yes, before you ask, I am worried about this.

Confession Two:
I have not aged in years. In fact, I'm certain that I have gotten even younger since graduating high school. I'm pretty sure that it has to do with whomever the mystery man is that takes the role of my great great grandfather. After all, the mother of his two children literally went to her grave without telling anyone (not even her own children) who he was. However, his children, their children, and on down the line to my mother, my brother, and myself, have never looked their ages. Case in point, as recently as last week I surprised one man by telling him my real age when he insisted that I looked like I had just turned 16. (This is starting to become a very common age for me, so I guess that was my "peak" age.)

Due to this "family curse", as I call it, I have been called Sweetie, Honey, Child, Darling, Princess (*shudders*), and many more by people who afterwards became visibly shocked when they discover my true age. This freaking sucks, in my opinion, because despite the fact that I am very mature in my mentality and highly perceptive of the truths in my environment, people still insist on treating me like a child. I know that later down the road, when I'm likely in my thirties or fourties, this "curse" will be more of a blesssing, but for now it is a major pain in the tuckus.

Confession Three:
I am easily bribed with sweet things and Earl Grey tea into performing certain tasks and actions. However, if the action itself is something that goes against my morals or is just plain demeaning, there is no way in hell that I would accept all of the sweets and tea in the world to do it. Just forget it.

For the record, though, chocolate dipped strawberries and Tiramisu are the best and most effective. Just saying.

Haven't posted anything here in a while, so I'll put a really interesting one up, okay?

Confession Four:
For the past 15-or-so years, I have lived in a house occupied by four spirits (which is where I have been all weekend)! They've never been intimidating or intentionally frightening, but we've certainly had our fair share of encounters with them. All of them are what some would classify as land-based haunts, as they are much older than the house itself, and all but one of them are intelligent, while the last is residual. Allow me to introduce them!

Emily
Let me begin with the residual spirit, whom I have called Emily. She is connected to a small Salzburger settlement that spanned at least a half-mile in radius and included my family's property within it. Over the years, I have been made aware of a young woman, no older than her mid-twenties, wearing a long green dress, white apron, and white head covering, moving about the property at night. She's always going about the same path, appearing in one area, walking to certain spots, and ending in another. It seems to me as though she is still carrying out her daily chores, unaware of her surroundings and how much they have changed. I feel the most pity for her.

The Governess
Back during the American Civil War period, the property that my home sits on used to be a farm and trading post. Over the years, I have found countless shards of pottery, a few farm tools, a bridle buckle, and numerous bricks. The Governess, I feel, is the "woman of the house" of this farm. The reason why I have always called her "the Governess" is because she has always had that strict, stereotypical English-Governess-type personality. She takes up residence in my parent's bedroom, and as a child, I always felt like I was being glared at and had the feeling of someone at my back, shooing me out with their hands. As I've gotten older, the "shooing" feeling has decreased, but I still feel a bit unwelcome, as if I'm intruding into someone's personal space. Perhaps I am!

The Girl
The little girl taking up residence at my home is entirely my fault. When I was 12 I started walking down to the river about 3/4 of a mile down the road from my home. I would frequently go down there by my self whenever I felt like it. Off of the boat landing, back into the woods, are the rotted remains of an old clapboard church that had been active since before the 1930s. Beside it, somewhere, is the church cemetery, now lost among the pines and underbrush. On one trip back from the landing, when I was about 13 or 14, I felt a small hand grasp my own. I was freaked out, but tried not to pay the sensation any attention. The feeling, however, lasted until I set foot in my front yard, leaving me standing frozen in the middle of the yard and thinking "This can't be good."

A few nights later, at about 2 in the morning, a strange feeling made me feel compelled to wake up and roll over to face the center of my room. There, darker than the pitch darkness of my room, was the silhouette of a three-foot tall girl with long hair and wearing a dress, just staring at me about two feet away from my bed. I was terrified, but I willed myself to calmly roll back over in bed, cover my head, and go back to bed. Since that time, the girl has established herself in my room and frequently moves things around, be they trinkets or old toys (specifically there for her).

James
James is our most active, intelligent, and persistent spirit. He's a Civil War soldier from either the trading post days or the Union camp down the road from Sherman's March to the Sea, not sure which. He first made himself known when I was 12. Shortly after midnight, I was woken by the sounds of someone moaning in horrendous pain at the foot of my bed. It terrified me to hear this, but also broke my heart knowing that someone was in such pain. After a while, though, the sounds let up and I was able to go back to sleep. My next run-in with him happened when I had to put laundry in my brother's room later that month. I saw that there was an indentation of someone sitting at the edge of my brother's bed and there was a book about the civil war open beside it. I freaked out, slammed the door, told my mother, but by the time we went to investigate, only the book remained, though now closed. He likes to wander the house and all its rooms.

James has a tendency to "keep an eye" on myself and my mother, especially when we stay up too late, frequently turning the TV or lights out on us after 11PM. One night, though, when I was 17, I had been sitting alone in the living room after everyone else had gone to bed. I was busy on my laptop and only had the lamp on for light. Over the top of my computer, I saw what appeared to be movement, but there was nothing that I could see when I looked directly at the area. Going back to my computer, I soon saw more motion at a closer distance, though more concrete in presence (looking a lot like that mirage of water across a hot road, if you know what I mean). Finally having had enough, I just said "Will you just stop?!" and pushed my hands out to my right, around the computer. While I KNEW that I had pushed my hands into thin air, I felt the distinct feeling of having pressed my hands to something solid and covered in thick felt. Needless to say, I ran to bed after that.


So, before I end this book of a post, allow me to share a few things that I have learned over the years living with ghosts:

1. You will be touched in some way, shape, or form. This is a given. If someone wants your attention, they will get it.
   
2. Voices are also going to be common, though they won't always be clear.
   
3. Don't feel like an idiot for talking out loud. In fact, go ahead! Spirits are still people, so don't be rude and ignore them.
   
4. As I said before, spirtis are still the same people they were when they passed. Just because they've passed and can't always be seen doesn't mean that you can just ignore them. How would you like it?
   
5. Your stuff WILL get moved. It's the same with people regardless of life status: if your stuff is interesting or in their way, they will move it. Just be patient and don't be afraid to ask for help! They might just give it back.
   
6. There's no getting used to living with spirits. You're always going to be scared in some degree when they do something because you don't expect it.
   

If you have any questions about all of this, feel free to PM me!

What I'm about to say is going to be more than a little bit of a touchy subject for most people, but it's something that I have to get off my chest. I'm not doing this for attention, and I don't want anyone's pity. I just want to put this out there so as to possibly help with the "healing process". But, to balance out the gravity of this post, I'll follow it with another, lighter confession, possibly even two.

Confession Five: Mature!:

As promised, here are two lighthearted confessions to balance out that last, really dark one.

Confession Six:
EVERY SINGLE ONE of my friends has called me "Mom" at some point in time. I'm not exactly sure why, but it is what it is. ^-^;

Confession Seven:
I have been called a "dead girl" by at least two different nurses and doctors on different occasions. I have a naturally shallow heart beat (Thanks, Dad!), so I usually have a hard-to-detect pulse, low blood pressure, and a cooler body temperature than most people. It also doesn't help that I'm really quiet when I'm moving around (so many bell-collar jokes....).

Okay, so no confession this time around, but I at least wanted to put a little warning out there. I know that this is going to be pretty early, but I figured that I might as well just give whoever cares a head's up. In two weeks, I'll be starting back on what will be my fourth (and hopefully last!) year of my bachelor's degree! So, what does this mean? A big freaking drop off in activity on my part, at least until I can get settled into a routine.

Starting the 18th, my schedule will be as follows:
Monday, Wednesday, Friday
Environmental Toxicology: 10-10:50 AM
Entomology: 11-11:50 AM (Lab: Wednesday Only, 12-3 PM)
Ecology Lab: Monday Only, 2-5 PM

Tuesday & Thrusday
Ecology: 8-9:15 AM
Biochemistry:12:15-1:30 PM (Lab: Tuesday Only, 2-5 PM)

So! Going off of this, it looks like my most convenient days will be... Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Weekends. Phoo... But, hey! I've had all of my profs before, so I'm don't think they'll keep us too very busy. In fact, they might even let us out early some days! So, bad news: serious drop in activity, with me likely only being on here about three times a week, max. But, good news: three hour bug hunts on Wednesday! Whoot! Not!

Wow... Haven't used this thing in a while. So! Let's do a little bit of updating, shall we?

First, we have definitely hit the ground running this year! I've already gotten myself involved in five research trips this semester and we've only just finished our third week of classes! Hijinks so far include being stopped by campus police for running through the woods with a shovel, being called "shorty" for not being able to reach into the bed of a classmate's truck to get a data book, being threatened to be thrown into a pond by the two biggest guys in class (both easily over 6 foot and ripped), and getting to handle a 4-foot python named Hennessy all by myself! Also, being the ONLY PERSON in my entomology class has its perks, since I now essentially get to do whatever the hell I like! Downside, though, if I don't feel like answering a question, I can't just stay silent and wait for someone else to answer it for me. OTL

As for confessions, I present Confession Eight:
I have discovered that, strangely, I actually enjoy being teased. Maybe it's because of the fact that that I ended up seriously affection-deprived at the end of my last relationship, so I'm more receptive to it. Or, maybe, since I've somehow gotten back to acting like my cheerful, open, and half-childish self and have been happy as fuck lately, people are more willing to joke around with me? I don't really know, but I like it. Granted, I'm not looking for anything romantic at the moment, but the attention is nice, even if every biochem lab starts with some joke about whether I'll be able to open the combination lock on my supply drawer.

Guess who woke up blind today! Believe it or not, I'm actually having to type this with my eyes closed while sitting in a pitch black room and the laptop on its dimmest setting. So, please, forgive me for any typos that I miss or make. It's more than just a little frustrating tryingt to get ready or even function at the time being, so I don't know if I'll be getting on very much in the next couple of days. Thankfully, though, I tend to heal quickly, so I have confidence that I'll be back before too long.



Update: No longer blind! And it only took nine and a half hours in a pitch-black room! \(^o^)/



Meine arme kleine vampir augen.