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"I reject your reality, and substitute my own" ~ Adam Savage, MYTHBUSTERS
if I have friended you and you are wondering why, it's probably because your journal caught my eye some way or another, either through a community or someone's other journal referred to you, or by a comment you have made that struck me. So, I probably browsed through your journal and checked you out, and just want to read your posts for a bit. Eventually I may comment and you will say "Huh? Who *IS* this person, in which case you are probably here now...so there it is.
"Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity"
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...ahem. Oh yes. Bio info.If you are actually intent on reading this, grab a cuppa and sit back.
of a Shamanistic Celtic pantheon belief system, raising 3 free spirited products of my loins, (whom I love madly, beyond life itself; when I am not screaming in a corner because they have driven me insane once again) along with the happy blend of 1 cockatiel, one recently adopted orange longhair cat named Morals (so good to have Morals at last)and a misfit slutty little kitty named Stormy (and her current brood - she won't hold still long enough to be fixed yet. Damn the luck.)
If you are here looking for info on paranormal research, check out rollinghillsghs
Rolling Hills Ghost Hunting Society
FACTOIDS of PERTINENCE
I have been a computer geek since the days of the Commodore. For years I ran the BBS "The Chamber Door" dedicated to geekdom, Poe-esque intrigue and rife with pagan leanings. Ahh, Telegard. We miss you. *I* miss you. I ran a node for PODSnet, RAVEnet, FIDOnet and others which shall remain secret due to the inherent nature of their being. (Phreak that I was)
Went to BBScon in Atlanta. Wept as I revised the old song "Video Killed the Radio Star" to meet the new doom of BBS's as the Internet lumbered to it's feet from just being a radar for government geeks and college gophering to the completely insane reach it has achieved today. So, ok. I called that one wrong. Suckit. Anyway, raise a glass to the silverback sysops of old. I miss L.O.R.D. and Usurper. Oh my.
Then I did a stint as "Previously The Official Stalker" of the Celtic band called Kilbrannan until they fell in love with me and adopted me, (heh. No one can resist me for very long..."Resistance Is Useless") so I followed them around the NorthEastern part of the country, made lasting friendships and grieve now that the band, as it was, retired. I am currently in possession of a stalker wall of immense and shocking proportions. (Ever see "One Hour Photo"? heheh...that's nothin'.) We have now named it "The Official Pre-Museum of Kilbrannan" to foil the police, if they ever chance upon it. Otherwise, dudes...I am SO locked up. Kilbrannan morphed into two other bands; 'Stone Row' (featuring Glen Bernardis) and 'Penny Whiskey' with the talented and amazing Kirk S. McWhorter and Tim Leonard, so the bands play on, folks. (Paul Runfola has been reportedly spotted whaling on the Bering Sea, climbing Mt. Everest, advancing steadily on the North Pole (hardtack in hand) and most recently rocking out with his mad guitar skilz atop the Empire State Building at midnight. Not sure which, if any, of these sightings are true, but if you come across him, tell him Rave says "hi luv".)
When I am not computer geeking, (Citrix is the closest I can get back to that feeling of sysop) I am, first and foremost, a writer. Sometimes I get published, sometimes not. Eh. LiveJournal is a way to get instant feedback, which is a writer's wet dream. When I ran the BBS, I used it much in the same way. Ah hahahah. So there, publishers. People DO like me. Occasionally. [BWSEG] I also use it as a way to keep that muse going. I love to write. I have always written.
I sometimes write in 'Dead Journal' and a few other blogs when LJ takes a hit, or when I want to get into that 'other mood' that sometimes freezes small children in their tracks and sets the birds to screaming.
I do paranormal research as well, with a fantastic team of people called the Rolling Hills Paranormal Research Society (RHPRS) at (curiously enough) Rolling Hills Paranormal Research Center, formerly the Genesee County Home, a huge, fantabulously haunted place in E. Bethany NY. It is a gorgeous old building with an unbelieveable history as a tavern, stage house, alms house, insane asylum, women's prison, infirmary and old folks home. We gather evidence, disprove most of it, and then keep the rest in the "Hmmm...Interesting!" file. Our ongoing research may someday do some good somewhere. Or it may get *us* locked up. Double trouble for me if they chance across my stalker wall too! Anyway, if anyone ever tells you "Oh, she's in a dark place", they're probably right, and I probably have a nightshot camcorder in one hand and a recorder in the other to catch the EVP's. Trust me, I've seen shit that would turn a normal person's hair white. But then, define normal. I defy any of that explanation to be applied to my description.
For old stuph, check the Calendar. For much with the laughing, check 'Best Of'. For enlightenment, go read someone else's journal. This is just so I can vent and try to figure out wtf.
If you are looking for the most radical, left wing, spooky ethereal black-rimmed eye, witchy-poo type person, I only do that on alternate Wednesdays. Seriously, I study the practice, I uphold the beliefs. I am also a firm believer in living by example, and if I can show that I am a semi-normal stressed out single mom who loses her shit occasionally, ponders her decisions, cries with a heart and who you might want to get to know and love, all without constantly flapping my bat wings around you and trying to steal locks of your hair, then I have accomplished my goal. I am as normal as anyone can possibly be given the bizarre circumstances of life. I may make mention of my beliefs in passing, but I won't thump you over the head with my besom about it. I do have other journals where I write my *spooky* stuph. It's not this one. Deal.
I do post a lot 'for friends only' so if you want more of this, add me.
"There is only one difference between a madman and me. I am not mad." -Salvatore Dali
~ ~ ~
Myself - *THE* Redheaded Bitch From Hel. I can deal with just about anything thrown at me with the exception of lying. Do not. It incurs crispy wrath. Then you too shall meet "The Rat Of God".
Magoo - my oldest son, whose driving skilz at 17 sometimes causes us to clutch each other and scream while he motored blithely along. USMC Reserves. He survived boot camp. So did I. It's unbelieveable though. His is my baby boy. Even though he is my oldest son, he is still my baby boy in my head. And yet, he *is* one of the proud, one of the best, one of the Marines. He is a man now. And I had better somehow get used to that fact and stop trying to kiss the top of his head. At least without his grudging permission. He does put up with me. Oh yes. He is currently shipped out to war. My heart aches, and all I can do is hope. Light a candle for him, and all of his comrades. War is an alien concept to my beliefs, and the reasons for this war are incomprehensible to me. But I have one bright burning coal in my heart, and that is for my son, who is doing his duty. For this country. He is that strong, that committed to working as hard as he can to end this and bring everyone back home. To the people who love them, and who sit every night in nameless, numbing waiting: Bless the mothers. And the fathers. Bless those families and hold them in your hearts. Currently I make it through the day. Then I make it through the night. And then I start all over.
Newt - my next oldest son. Struggling through late-teens like a nuclear explosion. Alternatively understanding, kind, or monstrously evil. At any rate, he is also one of the funniest people on the planet. When I am not chasing him around swatting at his head with a cast iron skillet, I am usually doubled over in laughter. My Gerber-baby boy. Go with love, my sweetheart, into your life. I thank every day of my life for you and your siblings. You try so hard. Don't think I don't notice. Not for one moment.
Dove - (formerly "Sprite" or "TheNakedSprite" in my BBS days, lol - as a toddler she was a devoted streaker and OMG was it 11, 12 years ago that she would sit on my lap and hammer at the keys when I was dropping chat on someone who had dialed in so that they thought they were talking to some drunken skeev???) She is my sweet pea. Still my baby, although she can drive me incoherent with a single word at times. She is practicing PMS, and believe me, she's almost got it down. She'll be ready. Most of the time though, she is the darling of the family, and still snuggles up to me and kisses me goodnight. She is my heart.
~~Welcome, my loves. I have been waiting for you. And now the circle is complete~~
It pleases me to give a man three wishes,
Then trick him into wasting every one.
To set the simpering goosegirl on the throne,
While the true princess weeps among the ashes.
I like to come unbidden to the christening,
Cackling a curse on the young princeling's head,
To slip a toad into the maiden's bed,
To conjure up the briers, the glass slope glistening.
And I am near, oh nearer than you've known.
You cannot shut me in a fairy book.
It was my step you heard, mine and my creatures',
Soft at your heel. And if you lean and look
Long in your mirror, you will see my features
Inextricably mingled with your own.
~ Sara Henderson Hay~
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