A to Z 2013 : THE JAK

A to Z 2013 : THE JAK

There are so many “J” choices to choose from. Like... Just (one I’ve seen many people picking)... Oh! Fun fact: “Just” is the one word I misspell the most over any other. It always comes out “jsut” for some reason. The faster I am attempting to type the more that poor word is butchered. Hmm... there is Jello. Used to love it, but now rarely eat it unless my grandmother makes it. So many... Hmm... I shouldn’t be struggling. Jumbo... makes me think of Crooks.

With so many choices, I suppose this could be viewed as taking the easy way out. That’s because this post will be about me, but honestly, not completely exactly...

A to Z 2013 : INITIATIVE: JUST ACT KIND

A to Z 2013 : INITIATIVE: JUST ACT KIND

Within I touch on the topics of Love, hate, Forgiveness, Spirituality and Kindness. They are discussed through my own personal experiences and beliefs I've shared throughout my brief lifetime. Hopefully the Initiative will inspire something in you!

I want to believe this is somewhat coherent. As I began writing it, I had way too many topics/thoughts/ideas barraging me at once. This was the third draft and I refuse to do a fourth. I feel this will get a handful of my thoughts out. I will revisit these topics once the A to Z Challenge concludes, and I have more time to focus.

(An A to Z 2013 Challenge Entry)

If there's one thing that can suck up a chunk of my time it's my passion for researching paranormal activity and/or unsolved murders. These obsessive studies come in waves, but once something has struck my interest I become very consumed. I can spend many endless nights attempting to garnish whatever information I can from an incident. From Wikipedia, to articles, to documentaries, to discussions/debates on said topics.

There are many unsolved murder cases that intrigue me; Jack the Ripper, Black Dhalia, and even missing persons cases like Jacob Wetterling. As for hauntings, well there are far too many to list. If I actually had cable and watched TV from home, I’d likely be watching a constant stream of paranormal shows/documentaries. I love almost all of them, though there are some exceptions.

One exception is a show (not even going to respect it enough to look up the title), where the “investigators” look like bodybuilder juicers that are screaming and “challenging” the spirits to come at them. When I would see previews for upcoming episodes, while watching another paranormal series, they would irritate the hell out of me. I couldn’t help but ridicule it to anyone that happened to be around during the time of the viewing.

I just see a scenario in my head with one of these guys yelling: “Come at me, bro! You mad, bro?” I would love to see one of them get served by a supernaturally-charged can of Whoop-Ass. I’d imagine the entity saying: “Da fuck? Oh hell no, I was king of these stomping grounds long before your granddaddy’s granddaddy even knew how to use his penis beyond a fist pump!”

Unfortunately, any actual interaction these guys claim to encounter I blow off as fake. I find it ridiculous, and makes it hard for me to sit and enjoy the program. There are a handful of series about the supernatural that seem to have spawned for nothing more than hack entertainment to garnish the all-mighty dollar. I will admit, though, even some of these are fun to watch.

A Happy Home
I'd buy that for a dollar! Or 80k of them!

One of my favorite haunting tales is The Amityville Horror. Chances are you’ve heard of this story, as there are many books and movies showcasing the events. I think only the first movies of any series were attempting to portray some of the actual occurrences experienced by the Lutz family; the rest just additional cash cowage. I’ve never fully researched this, though. Maybe all the movies are sprinkled with varying “true” accounts.

The story is about the Lutz family and their newly purchased home in New York; A neighborhood dubbed Amityville. The family — a husband, wife, and their three children — struck one hell of a bargain when coming across this house. For what they were getting, the price tag must have seemed too good to be true. In the end, it likely was, since they only lasted some twenty-eight days there.

Once moving in, the family began to be plagued by countless supernatural phenomena. From standard doors slamming, music playing, and property damage to green ooze, secret rooms, and nightmares. These nightmares supposedly played out the DeFeo Murders that had taken place in the house just thirteen months before the Lutz family bought it.

These murders consisted of Ronald DeFeo, Jr killing six members of his family. Check out some of the details in the link, the murders themselves seem shrouded in mystery (though, I'm expecting those familiar with Amityville know of this account). These murders are the basis of which the supernatural occurrences are blamed. The Lutz family had paranormal investigators come out to their property, as well as priests for blessings.

Eventually the family moved from the property, leaving behind their belongings. There are rumors that incidents followed along with them for a period of time before eventually stopping. The events that transpired eventually lead to books, movies, and other commercial endeavors being made. There are many criticisms about the Amityville House/Horror events, but remaining members of the family hold to them as being accurate/true.

The kicker to me is that the family was told about the previous murders in the house. I don’t care how much of a bargain the price tag given on a house is, if a place has a history like that I am saying Hell-to-the-No! An ex of mine expressed a strong desire to own a house with a barn-like front. I guess from my researching here they are called Dutch Colonials? Every time I see a house of this style I can’t help but think of this haunting. Thanks, but no thanks.

These are some trailers of upcoming movies that got me to thinking about this case:

My Amityville Horror:

The Conjuring:

 

Let Me Tell You a Story

Those trailers and talking to a friend about her and a friend’s paranormal encounters inspired me to make this entry about hauntings. I didn’t expect to talk so much about the Amityville House, and honestly I cut it down a ton. I’d like to describe some of the going-ons my family and I experienced while living in the town of Stanchfield, MN.
Even back in the day I was elusive to the camera.

I lived in this house for most of my childhood; from third grade through graduation. I am absent in the picture for some reason, but my brothers; aunt; uncle; and some others are in it. The house was previously owned by the Bieses (spelling uncertain after so long). They eventually bought a larger property just down the road from this previous location.

In the picture you can see the indent, where the door is located. That whole section from there to the balcony was all added on by the previous owners. I believe our doorway leading from one of the living rooms to the kitchen was where the original doorway to the house was. They added a lot to the house. During these additions, supposedly the Bieses experienced some lesser paranormal activity. Things such as doors/cabinets opening, closing, and locking. Furniture and/or belongings being moved/shifted.

I think about the Lutz, and can’t help but think my mother and (ex?) step-father were likely told these things before moving in. Maybe it was one heck of a deal? Perhaps money points make all the difference. Anyway, some history of the house (trying to recollect from memory and mind you never confirming anything - so all hearsay/rumor, but adds to the flavor I guess): a murder, a suicide, and a funeral and/or wake service held inside the house for a baby (which I guess was common practice sometimes back in the day?). I have no idea; just know it involved the dead within the house.

I wish I had a picture of the gnarled, horrific creation of a tree existing just outside the front porch. It always creeped me out, and supposedly that is where the suicide occurred. This didn’t stop me from climbing and playing on the damn thing. Kids can be so fucken stupid.

Anyway, a handful of us experienced some activity in the house, and I remember specifically telling my mother I felt that the house, or something associated with it, was evil/negative. This was in the midst of a lot of family strife mainly existing between our mother and ex step-father and us children and ex step-father. I won’t go into much detail about that here. I just blamed the house for a lot of those incidents.

One of my younger brothers — the one just below me — has had many experiences. He has seen a white outline of a person against the wall (during a period of leaving his room in pitch blackness), which oddity was heightened when our cat would go over to the specific spot to investigate the next day. He also would see a young woman out in the hallway wearing an old-fashioned yellow dress.

He believed that the spirit(s) he was associating with were benevolent (unlike my thoughts of the house). He claimed one — he believes was the spirit of an older woman, the one outlined in white light on the wall — would pat him on the head when he was going to sleep sometimes. I believe also this entity would sit on the mattress. I’d have to reconfirm that last part.

This is the spirit he “invited” to come with him when he moved momentarily into my apartment years ago. When he finally told me this (long since after having moved out) I got upset, because during that period I had the odd feeling of being watched fairly often. I don’t care if supposedly benevolent, I wanted no attachment to that house after finally leaving.

Another of our brothers awoke in the living room, in the middle of the night, to the static, white noise of the TV. When he was about to get up to turn it off, he noticed a shadow (darker than the night outside) standing just outside the bay window. The shadow then moved across the length of the bay window and out of sight. He was too paralyzed to move and stayed in the chair the entire night.

So my own personal experiences? There are only two events that I was “witness” to, aside from the pervasive intuitive feeling of negativity.

Who’s Your Daddy?

To give a basic idea of the house’s layout, when you entered that door in the picture there is a short hall leading to the kitchen. The entryway to the left (leading to the first living room) is the doorway I described as being the original door to enter the house before additions. Directly to the left of entering the first living room was a corner staircase to the second floor. All bedrooms were upstairs. Once reach the top of the landing you could only go right. Straight ahead from there was the two bedrooms my brothers and I occupied.

If you were to wrap around the railing there was a hall leading down to the bathroom and newly added master bedroom.

One day my brother (the one claiming all the benevolence of these freaky deaky spirits) and I were playing with Legos in our bedroom. We usually listened to cassette tapes or the radio as we played, but that day we weren’t. We were home alone — at this point in time I can’t recollect if our mother was working or just running errands; my brother would remember I bet — and enjoying a lovely non-sibling rivalry moment.

All of a sudden there was a kid shouting “Daddy!?” at the top of the landing straight across from where our bedroom was. Our door was open and we were both playing in sight of the landing. I will admit neither of us bothered to look at first. The initial scream scared the shit out of us and we threw blankets over ourselves almost instantly. Then the call for daddy came from what sounded like the kitchen. Soon after, another from what sounded like out in the field (we owned a bit of land). No door slam, no footsteps, and to get out into the field in between the timing of the shouts impossible.

We both eventually got out from under the covers and ran down to the master bedroom to look out the window which overlooked the field. Nothing, of course. In my panicked adrenaline bound craze I thought I saw the reflection of a kid in the window, screamed, and we both hid under my mother's covers a moment.

We couldn't tell if it was the shouts of a little girl or boy, but there was no questioning who they were looking for. So this is where I eventually thought maybe it was the spirit of someone who had passed away in the house. I’d only known of a baby (supposedly) and so that didn’t make sense as ghosts don’t age. Perhaps it was a young child? Or, in addition to the baby, there had eventually been a child passing there.

My brother and I never found out, as these are how these things usually play out. The next occurrence involved multiple people. It’s funny how much more reasonable things sound when you know you didn’t experience them alone.

The Guardians

On this given evening, the majority of my family and my mother’s friend were sitting in the first living room. I can’t recall the conversations, and one of the biggest memory gaps (unfortunately) being whether or not it was storming. I think my mother recalls there being a storm, but I definitely do not. In fact, the lack of the storm is what made this stand out so much to me.

Our house was older, as I’m sure was the wiring, so random little pocket flutters of lights dimming wasn’t uncommon. They weren’t overly frequent, however, either. This night we were gathered in the living room we had a flicker of the lights, but no one thought anything of it. I think having the flickering lights is what makes my mom think there was a storm, maybe?

After a while there was a static feeling in the air and the lights flickered a lot, to where I thought we were actually going to lose power. I can’t fully describe how the air "felt," or the exact feeling I had overcome me. I’ve already explained how I sensed negativity surrounding the house in general.

With this flicker/outage of the electricity, though, the dogs suddenly bolted up and began barking. Not only that, but they raced to the hallway leading to the front door. The dogs weren’t alone either. At the same time as the power fluxed and the dogs riled up our cats did the same. They didn’t meow or hiss, but they became... involved.

One of the creepiest moments for me was when I passed through the entryway to the kitchen, and turned to the right to look down the hall towards the front door. I wish I could say I saw some sort of glowing demon eyes (okay, no I freakin’ don’t) or some apparition, but this impacted me just as much.

Our two dogs — one a Saint Bernard — were silently sitting side-by-side staring at the front door. Just behind them, one behind each dog, our cats were side-by-side doing the same. They were just sitting there; all four of them. We are talking pets that didn’t get along with their own feline/canine brethren, let alone crosswise. Yet, there they all were lined up and side-by-side.

With the pervasive feeling combined with that incident, I can’t help but think they were guarding us from something. Something evil. As though nothing else mattered, all “differences” set aside as they joined forces for one common goal: Protect.

So that is the freakiest moment I had in the house, regardless of screaming ghost children and all.

Sorry, this was such a long post! I will try to make them shorter soon (but I and J are likely to be lengthy, as well). Hope you’ve enjoyed these tales of hauntings that my family and I have encountered. There are more, but these are the most prominent with myself and that house. Screw that place. My ex step-father still lives there, but is a skeptic and doesn’t believe in ghosts; our experiences discarded. I wonder if he's encountered any phenomena over the years. If he has, he likely wouldn’t admit it.

In closing, I have to be honest, as much as I want to see a ghost I don’t think I would be able to handle it. I‘m fine being limited to the experiences I’ve had with no direct confrontation!

Do you believe in the supernatural? If so, any personal experiences? Have any favorite haunting lore/stories?  Do you believe animals can sense the presence of ghosts and supernatural phenomena?
(An A to Z 2013 Challenge Entry)

After determining I would stop blogging, I began to to think of some of the topics I had planned that I’d never write about. Some I find important, others just fun and random. Then I began to think about what my grandmother would say when she found out I quit. She has been my number one supporter and fan. She is technologically challenged, so I read my latest blog entries to her when I visit on Mondays.

Over the last few months she has come to look forward to the interaction and, to be honest, so have I. I may not live in her basement like the stereotypical Grandma's Boy — the space is actually occupied by another — but there is no doubt that I am a Grandma’s Boy. The thought of her reaction doesn’t sit well with me. She would be very understanding, but yet... not.

What a Difference a Day Makes
24 little hours

What eventually ran through my head, after a comment a friend made, was people may think I couldn’t stomach the A to Z challenge. Now, I’ve nothing to prove, but I wanted it to be known that I really was (am) enjoying the A to Z. The people have been great and the abundance of new blogs/reading material welcomed.

Then another friend made a comment about getting them involved and abandoning him. I'm sure he was joking (I hope...), but I did feel kind of bad. Some friends weren’t able to sign up/register in time; joining later in the week, catching up.

If I had left that F post at its bare-boned, skeletal artsy self as I had planned, I don’t think I’d even be writing this. But, I wrote more and soon after I wanted to write more. What was G going to be again? “Give it a Name?” No, that was a header under J. What about H? I had a coded message for someone with the O entry. I really was (am... *sigh*) enjoying this blog hop (I think that is technically what it is referred to as).

All that, and a bit more, culminated into wanting to continue even more than before.

What the Crack Fuck?

I have this thing, where I worry about what people will think (it apparently exists both in person and online) and what impressions I make. I literally just went off about having to find a job and prioritize and get shit straight (all of which I need to do... very, very badly... and fast).

Now I'm continuing (or wanting to) and wonder if people are going to think I'm on drugs or something. Maybe bipolar — which I’m not and is no light matter — or depressed or whatever multitude of things. I even, at this very moment, have an email up I was going to send to a Co-Host of the A to Z challenge asking if I will come off like a cracked out basketcase.

I could leave comments off, continually, out of fear. What fun would that be, though? The interactions are honestly 75% of this event, and blogging, for me.

I’m writing this entry, and I am abstaining from sending that email (sparing them of my nuttery), and resolving to: Fuck it. Like all else, those things — thoughts/feelings/opinions of others — are out of my control. Sucks sometimes thinking what role I play in them, because despite the fact that yes, it is out of your control, you sometimes play a role. Things you say/do/etc all play a part. But, even then, what can you do? Not a whole hell of a lot. Make better choices (if the results were negative) perhaps.

It is what it is. I’m a strong supporter of: Whatever happens, happens. My facebook banner thing-in-the-bobber can back me up... unless it's still the 2012 NaNoWriMo one... then it can’t. Nope “What Ever Happens, Happens.” And now I know how little I paid attention to the split between “what” and “ever” and am annoyed because it should be one word. Now I have another crisis on my hands! Great!

I Cannot Tell a Lie

Quitting the blogs, while helping some with stress (mainly referring to my fiction blog), won’t make me any more motivated to job hunt. What I feel would result is I’d find some other distraction — there are many to choose from (Damn you Candy Crush! Damn you to hell!) — and I’d be in the same place I was before. Except I wouldn’t be writing as often. If at all, because this fiction writing is still presenting its fair share of blockage. It wants to fight. It wants to punch me in the ear.

So not blogging isn’t going to help a whole hell of a lot. I just hate standard work; always have. My grandmother and I just recapped this last Monday. Friends and family always come first, and at least with the job I’ve had for the last six years those values could be upheld. I just need another. A second job... oh my nuts, if you only knew how much I hate the concept of having to work two jobs. Yeah, I know... millions do it. I am likely of the 1% in this category.

I’ve good friends and family that have attempted to help me get a second job for months now, but I just evade. Evade right into that financial black hole I was talking about in my previous entry. So what I need is an entire change of thought and, surely, acceptance. I need to be careful... I can’t even fully become a Grandma’s Boy and live in the basement; no vacancies. Would be interesting to see where I’d end up.

Was It Real or Was It All an Illusion?

Well, let’s see here. I’ve quite possible broken all trust of security with those who follow along, including friends and family. This guy could just up and leave after investing X amount of time reading his damn blog?! This was actually a factor of concern if I were to eventually come back to blogging.

See I talk about Connections and building of strong bonds, so acts like this leave me a bit reminiscent of incidents described in The Bridge.

At least my bounce back recovery time is improving exponentially! I guess I should have heeded my own words:
“Eviscerate notions demanding
Enthralling neurotic derailments"
Do I try to pretend it never happened? Claim "F" was for "False Alarm"? Not really my style. Everything described is real, genuine, and pertinent in my life at this time. I definitely seem to be living up to that intentionally emo pic I took when deciding to undertake a journal blog.

So I think I will just keep on, keeping on. In my heart of hearts it is what I want. I can continue to dabble with writing on a non-fiction front, and I can keep reading my blurbs to my grandmother when I visit. I can meet new bloggers.

And while pretending to look for a second job, perhaps one will fall into my lap... right.

WTF? Is Jak:
A) Crazy
B) On Crack
C) Sleep Deprived
D) Living Up to His EmoJak moniker 
E) The One True King 
F) All the Above (minus E, of course!)
G) None of the Above (This has all been a ruse of pure genius masterminded as some sort of publicity stunt)

I’m going to go with G :) since it is the Letter of the Day. Also, if you've never seen the movie Grandma’s Boy, do so (but only if you enjoy crude humor!).

Edit: I forgot it's Monday (since I scheduled this out over the weekend) and that is officially Grandma Day! I will share a video by Julian Smith that I place up on FB occasionally:

(An A to Z 2013 Challenge Entry)

I am not a writer.

That was the only thing said within this entry originally. It was short, simplistic, and spoke the truth; my truth. I found it very poetic. And brief for once in my life! Certain people — myself included — would appreciate that. After some sleep and a few hours of contemplation, though, I thought I would explain. Not out of obligation, but desire. I’ve met a handful of people I’ve really liked connecting with over this recent blogging endeavor; even more through the A to Z Challenge.

For my entire life I feel like I’ve been playing “writer,” never actually being one. In high school I would write and draw a lot. All the time. I wanted to do comics and novels and had big ideas. Once graduating, caring less about college, I thought I would write my first novel. Instead, I wrote nothing; for years.

People would always ask how my writing was coming along, and I would say it was going good. I thought about my writing all the time, but never put any action into getting it down. I would essentially lie about writing, because I wanted to be a writer that bad. I’m sure over time they knew — everyone; friends and family — that I wasn’t writing. It doesn’t take five years to write a novel, does it? Ten? Eventually people stopped inquiring, except some family.

After the 12 year block, some assistance from a book; NaNoWriMo; and encouragement I began to blog. I was writing once again. Unfortunately, life changes with my job and family caused a few hardships. The biggest downfall has been allowing myself to spiral into a financial pit. While I should have been looking for a job, over the last few months, I’ve instead focused more on my writing. Maybe stressing about my writing is more accurate.

Whichever the case, it provided a distraction from doing what I should be doing: taking care of business. Getting a job, becoming more financially secure, continue with my exercise regiment, eat healthier, etc etc. Most would think this could all be done simultaneously, and for some that is very possible. I know myself, though, and I tend to lack a healthy balance between parts of my life. I have odd — some would say fucked up — priorities.

The kicker to me is... despite the time spent focusing on my writing, very little has been produced. I’m constantly distracted by a multitude of things; games, women, interwebs, women, friends, women. Okay, I don’t have lots of women around, that was more of a joke.

Anyway, a friend stated about how I talk so much about my writing, but never do it. It brought back all those years of “pretending” I was a writer, and I felt like a fraud. Mixed in is association with friends/family who don’t like my writing and/or believe it to be sub par. Everyone is apparently a great writer — beyond myself — explaining why none are published and if so, still working standard mundane jobs to support themselves; their writing unable to do so. At least they can support themselves, which is more than I will be able to say about myself very shortly.

Sometimes the Toughest Choices Are the Smartest

Swiping this from a Facebook status update...

So, I am definitely a dreamer. Always dreaming about being a writer, but never being one. Blogging has been a great experience, but it is also a distraction from my fiction which I would like to continue. In light of this, I plan to take a hiatus from blogging in hopes of being able to focus on some important matters in life. Work, money, maybe my fiction. I’d hate to have to be a fraud my entire life.

I may get back to the blogosphere, may not. I am very appreciative of those who have encouraged and actively supported me. Those new connections I’ve made during my brief stint. I hope to continue reading a good handful of blogs I’ve happened across these past months. There is a lot of good writing, talent, and people involved!

You’ll notice the comments are disabled. I’m not looking for sympathy or to drag people further into my pity party. I know most I associate with are really good people, and so your farewells and good wishes are known without saying. Naturally, following along may be a moot point now. No hard feelings for unfollowing.

I’ll continue to be a dreamer, but for now I have to wake up to the really real world and take care of some shit and, to be honest, it still may not happen. Such is life.

Hopefully I get back into blogging again once things are more stable.

No promises.

And naturally... no pinky swears.