Penelope Crowe's Blog, page 8
February 28, 2012
The First Time I Was Charmed
Yesterday brought back many memories. I saw friends that I have not seen for 40 years.
We talked about games we played, other children we knew, and how life is different now.
We spoke of a family that lived behind us that was touched by the tragedy of losing a child, and how we all shared yards like they were our own. No fences divided us and the area we played seemed endless.
We were all different ages. My sister was probably one of the youngest at three years old, and Karen, our neighbor, was a mature woman of ten. Roy was in high school and was totally out of our league. He did not hang around with us, but we watched him in awe as he played his drums and got to have his own room.
Bruce was younger than Roy, but was still a much older man to me. Playing with his younger siblings was always fun, but when he was there something exciting and new was added to our younger group.
One overcast day we were swinging on his swingset, and he got bored and started to dig for worms. The girls kept swinging, and Bruce was telling us he was finding some big fat ones. Then he said the terrible words, "And I found an especially juicy one for you...PENELOPE..." I froze.
I could not swing but I could not get off the swing either. Something bad was going to happen--so I covered my eyes with my hands. I think I was shaking a little. I heard the others girls yelling ewwwwww!!!! and no no no!! I was imagining a worm nightmare behind my closed eyes. Would he put the worm in my hair? Would he throw it at me? Then I heard everyone telling me to look and open my eyes! Open your eyes!!
And there, about a foot from my face, was a daisy. And about a foot behind that stood Bruce, with a simple grin on his face. He held it there for about two more seconds, then said,
"Here."
Part of my mind remembers him saying something almost wise after that like "see, things aren't always what they seem..." but I can't say for sure.
I took the daisy and smiled non-stop for the rest of the week. I did not fall madly in love with Bruce or even think he liked me, but something was new and different in my life. Not everything turned out bad that I imagined would.
Today I look for the magic in everyday life. Many times the smallest things contain the biggest wonders. Did the daisy event with Bruce have something to do with this? I don't know for sure, but maybe it did.
One thing I DO know is if you want to find something, you actually have to look for it. :)
We talked about games we played, other children we knew, and how life is different now.
We spoke of a family that lived behind us that was touched by the tragedy of losing a child, and how we all shared yards like they were our own. No fences divided us and the area we played seemed endless.
We were all different ages. My sister was probably one of the youngest at three years old, and Karen, our neighbor, was a mature woman of ten. Roy was in high school and was totally out of our league. He did not hang around with us, but we watched him in awe as he played his drums and got to have his own room.
Bruce was younger than Roy, but was still a much older man to me. Playing with his younger siblings was always fun, but when he was there something exciting and new was added to our younger group.
One overcast day we were swinging on his swingset, and he got bored and started to dig for worms. The girls kept swinging, and Bruce was telling us he was finding some big fat ones. Then he said the terrible words, "And I found an especially juicy one for you...PENELOPE..." I froze.
I could not swing but I could not get off the swing either. Something bad was going to happen--so I covered my eyes with my hands. I think I was shaking a little. I heard the others girls yelling ewwwwww!!!! and no no no!! I was imagining a worm nightmare behind my closed eyes. Would he put the worm in my hair? Would he throw it at me? Then I heard everyone telling me to look and open my eyes! Open your eyes!!
And there, about a foot from my face, was a daisy. And about a foot behind that stood Bruce, with a simple grin on his face. He held it there for about two more seconds, then said,
"Here."
Part of my mind remembers him saying something almost wise after that like "see, things aren't always what they seem..." but I can't say for sure.
I took the daisy and smiled non-stop for the rest of the week. I did not fall madly in love with Bruce or even think he liked me, but something was new and different in my life. Not everything turned out bad that I imagined would.
Today I look for the magic in everyday life. Many times the smallest things contain the biggest wonders. Did the daisy event with Bruce have something to do with this? I don't know for sure, but maybe it did.
One thing I DO know is if you want to find something, you actually have to look for it. :)
February 23, 2012
When Is a Relationship Really Over?
I am writing about a failing relationship in a new book.
There is no doubt that the relationship in the book is doomed. Of course both characters are flawed and have emotional baggage and issues, but don't we all. Yet the fate of their situation is easy for me to see. Nothing mysterious is going on, they are not struggling with tough decisions--it is just OVER.
It is rarely like this is real life.
We stay and fight and try and work on situations that may be salvageable, but how do we know when to actually end it?
Certain people say short of physical abuse, you should stay. You are married after all, and that is supposed to be forever. And of course if children are involved that is a whole different story. Here is a paragraph from an article by Jayna Solinger:
Generally, it is better for children to suffer a bad marriage than to cope with divorce. According to University of Michigan psychologist and divorce expert Neil Kalter, the misery of an unhappy marriage is less significant than the changes after a divorce. The children would rather their parents keep fighting and not get divorced (Marriage 64). Although this does not seem logical, it shows that children want their parents together at all costs. Also, contrary to popular belief, the alternative to most divorces is not life in a war zone (Zinmeister 30). In the vast number of divorces there is no strife or violence that could ruin a person's childhood; the divorce is usually driven by a quest for "greener grass." These divorces almost always make the child worse off and create a number of unnecessary problems for the child. If parents would concentrate harder on working conflicts out rather than their own personal happiness, the children would be much better off.
While I do agree that parents should try and be their best for their kids, this paragraph makes me feel the child would learn that he is stuck once he is in a terrible situation. That is not a message I would want to send my children.
On the other side of the coin, leaving might NOT be the worst thing:
Divorce, however, is not always a terrible thing. In a few given situations it proves to be for the best. The two situations that may prove beneficial for a person to get a divorce are abusive relationships and infidelity. When one parent is abusive, whether verbal, physical, or sexual, to the children, it is more beneficial to the child if the parent leaves (Huffman 4). Also, if one spouse is beating the other, the marriage should be ended. If a child watches his/her parent get beaten his entire life, he/she could think that it is fine to act this way or severely resent the parent for staying.
And so, the quandary.
How is one supposed to know what path is the better? Hindsight here, as always, is 20/20, and we will never know the results of our decisions until years in the future.
I remember reading a little book called Life Advice from 4 to 104. Little kids gave advice about how to hide bad tasting vegetables in your milk, teens advised how to sneak in after curfew. A man of 92 said the biggest decision with the most consequences you will ever make in your life is the person you choose as a mate. When I read it I was younger and did not understand the implications.
I get it now.
Day 64 of 100 Unfortunate Days
Day 64
How can you tell when you should leave someone? Is emotional neglect enough? How about being called a c**t, or having your grammar corrected in front of friends and family, or having your antique furniture you were saving from your family be put on the curb for trash pick-up? Or being told you were being 'trained' after your newlywed husband refused to talk to you for a month? Maybe being told you were not really sick but looking for attention when you had pneumonia? But on the other side of the coin, what if you have not worked in 15 years and this same man supported you and gave you everything you could ever need. Vacations and diamonds. A perfect house in one of the best neighborhoods and school systems in the United States. So am I a hooker? Does that actually make me a prostitute? Should I have left my honeymoon when he told me wasn't speaking to me because he "realized what he had gotten himself into" by marrying me—and he did not like the way I packed? Can you really stay married to someone and feel that they are an asshole half the time? He thinks I am a waste of space and wonders if my father is disappointed with me because I am such an underachiever. How I am wasting my God-given talents? Can a person like you—or love you—and not talk to you? How many times can you try to talk to someone, or go to therapy, or read books to help salvage an emotionally ridiculous relationship? Can you stay in the relationship and retain your dignity and not have people think that you are a doormat?
There is no doubt that the relationship in the book is doomed. Of course both characters are flawed and have emotional baggage and issues, but don't we all. Yet the fate of their situation is easy for me to see. Nothing mysterious is going on, they are not struggling with tough decisions--it is just OVER.
It is rarely like this is real life.
We stay and fight and try and work on situations that may be salvageable, but how do we know when to actually end it?
Certain people say short of physical abuse, you should stay. You are married after all, and that is supposed to be forever. And of course if children are involved that is a whole different story. Here is a paragraph from an article by Jayna Solinger:
Generally, it is better for children to suffer a bad marriage than to cope with divorce. According to University of Michigan psychologist and divorce expert Neil Kalter, the misery of an unhappy marriage is less significant than the changes after a divorce. The children would rather their parents keep fighting and not get divorced (Marriage 64). Although this does not seem logical, it shows that children want their parents together at all costs. Also, contrary to popular belief, the alternative to most divorces is not life in a war zone (Zinmeister 30). In the vast number of divorces there is no strife or violence that could ruin a person's childhood; the divorce is usually driven by a quest for "greener grass." These divorces almost always make the child worse off and create a number of unnecessary problems for the child. If parents would concentrate harder on working conflicts out rather than their own personal happiness, the children would be much better off.
While I do agree that parents should try and be their best for their kids, this paragraph makes me feel the child would learn that he is stuck once he is in a terrible situation. That is not a message I would want to send my children.
On the other side of the coin, leaving might NOT be the worst thing:
Divorce, however, is not always a terrible thing. In a few given situations it proves to be for the best. The two situations that may prove beneficial for a person to get a divorce are abusive relationships and infidelity. When one parent is abusive, whether verbal, physical, or sexual, to the children, it is more beneficial to the child if the parent leaves (Huffman 4). Also, if one spouse is beating the other, the marriage should be ended. If a child watches his/her parent get beaten his entire life, he/she could think that it is fine to act this way or severely resent the parent for staying.
And so, the quandary.
How is one supposed to know what path is the better? Hindsight here, as always, is 20/20, and we will never know the results of our decisions until years in the future.
I remember reading a little book called Life Advice from 4 to 104. Little kids gave advice about how to hide bad tasting vegetables in your milk, teens advised how to sneak in after curfew. A man of 92 said the biggest decision with the most consequences you will ever make in your life is the person you choose as a mate. When I read it I was younger and did not understand the implications.
I get it now.
Day 64 of 100 Unfortunate Days
Day 64
How can you tell when you should leave someone? Is emotional neglect enough? How about being called a c**t, or having your grammar corrected in front of friends and family, or having your antique furniture you were saving from your family be put on the curb for trash pick-up? Or being told you were being 'trained' after your newlywed husband refused to talk to you for a month? Maybe being told you were not really sick but looking for attention when you had pneumonia? But on the other side of the coin, what if you have not worked in 15 years and this same man supported you and gave you everything you could ever need. Vacations and diamonds. A perfect house in one of the best neighborhoods and school systems in the United States. So am I a hooker? Does that actually make me a prostitute? Should I have left my honeymoon when he told me wasn't speaking to me because he "realized what he had gotten himself into" by marrying me—and he did not like the way I packed? Can you really stay married to someone and feel that they are an asshole half the time? He thinks I am a waste of space and wonders if my father is disappointed with me because I am such an underachiever. How I am wasting my God-given talents? Can a person like you—or love you—and not talk to you? How many times can you try to talk to someone, or go to therapy, or read books to help salvage an emotionally ridiculous relationship? Can you stay in the relationship and retain your dignity and not have people think that you are a doormat?
February 16, 2012
Isaac Asimov, C.S. Lewis, and the Reagan Doctrine
I was feeling inadequate and incomplete because of my skepticism about religion and God, so I requested a clear indication.
And it did seem that the answer to my request for a signal of whether God was indeed there was all signs point to yes.
And then, of course, I had to start thinking.
My average education was not serving me well here, so I looked up two scholars, Isaac Asimov, and C.S. Lewis.
Both frighteningly over educated, and born within 25 years of one-another, they had strikingly different views of God and religion.
Lewis, from Ireland, was an atheist, then theist, and eventually a devout Christian.
Asimov, originally from Russia but smuggled into the United States by his parents, probably could be called a reluctant atheist.
Lewis writes in blossoming, flowing and rich descriptions in contrast with Asimov's sharp, clean and direct sentences. Asimov won Nebula and Hugo awards for his writings, and his short story "Nightfall" is considered by many the best science fiction story ever written. Read "Nightfall" here:
http://doctord.dyndns.org:8000/stories/nightfall.htm
Lewis has written the Narnia series, The Screwtape Letters, and many additional Christian-themed books, several made into well-known and popular movies. He was moved to re-devotion to Christianity partially by his good friend J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Hobbit.
Asimov called himself an atheist, but with reservations. He believed the term stated what he did not believe in, but neglected what he did. He considered himself a humanist. Although he wrote in simple and straightforward sentences, his mind was anything but simple. He was a long-standing member of Mensa, and served as VP of the High IQ Society.
And now to the theological arguments.
Lewis's books argue that most evidence is based in favor of Christianity, and reasonable people should therefore be Christian. (This is the most simplified version of his idea.) He did not feel one should believe in Christianity if, in their opinion, the signs pointed otherwise He did not believe "leaps of faith" served a skeptic any purpose. But, for those who considered themselves devout Christians, he believed it better "to believe based on faith rather than evidence. For a complete view of Lewis's ideals please read here:
http://atheism.about.com/od/cslewisnarnia/a/apologist.htm
Asimov pointed out that Ronald Reagan stated that anyone who does not believe in God cannot be trusted because they have nothing to motivate them to behave properly. Asimov felt this was sad, inferring that people needed to be bribed and scared into behaving a certain way according to the "Reagan Doctrine," and we do not have the ability to keep our word or behave properly simply based on a sense of honor. If we help someone, keep a promise, or just act basically decent, we are merely buying a "ticket to heaven."
I found the Reagan Doctrine fascinating, and hope you take the time to read this interesting treatise on a touchy subject. :)
http://www.skeptictank.org/isaac.htm
Day 12 of 100 Unfortunate Days
Everyone thinks the anti-Christ is the devil, but it's not. It's a person just like you or me. Then the anti-Christ could tell you that if you do not go to church and follow him, you will go to hell. Or maybe he is right and IF you go to church you are following not the teachings of God, but of Satan. Satan is the father of lies, right? How the hell are we supposed to know who is lying
And it did seem that the answer to my request for a signal of whether God was indeed there was all signs point to yes.
And then, of course, I had to start thinking.
My average education was not serving me well here, so I looked up two scholars, Isaac Asimov, and C.S. Lewis.
Both frighteningly over educated, and born within 25 years of one-another, they had strikingly different views of God and religion.
Lewis, from Ireland, was an atheist, then theist, and eventually a devout Christian.
Asimov, originally from Russia but smuggled into the United States by his parents, probably could be called a reluctant atheist.
Lewis writes in blossoming, flowing and rich descriptions in contrast with Asimov's sharp, clean and direct sentences. Asimov won Nebula and Hugo awards for his writings, and his short story "Nightfall" is considered by many the best science fiction story ever written. Read "Nightfall" here:
http://doctord.dyndns.org:8000/stories/nightfall.htm
Lewis has written the Narnia series, The Screwtape Letters, and many additional Christian-themed books, several made into well-known and popular movies. He was moved to re-devotion to Christianity partially by his good friend J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Hobbit.
Asimov called himself an atheist, but with reservations. He believed the term stated what he did not believe in, but neglected what he did. He considered himself a humanist. Although he wrote in simple and straightforward sentences, his mind was anything but simple. He was a long-standing member of Mensa, and served as VP of the High IQ Society.
And now to the theological arguments.
Lewis's books argue that most evidence is based in favor of Christianity, and reasonable people should therefore be Christian. (This is the most simplified version of his idea.) He did not feel one should believe in Christianity if, in their opinion, the signs pointed otherwise He did not believe "leaps of faith" served a skeptic any purpose. But, for those who considered themselves devout Christians, he believed it better "to believe based on faith rather than evidence. For a complete view of Lewis's ideals please read here:
http://atheism.about.com/od/cslewisnarnia/a/apologist.htm
Asimov pointed out that Ronald Reagan stated that anyone who does not believe in God cannot be trusted because they have nothing to motivate them to behave properly. Asimov felt this was sad, inferring that people needed to be bribed and scared into behaving a certain way according to the "Reagan Doctrine," and we do not have the ability to keep our word or behave properly simply based on a sense of honor. If we help someone, keep a promise, or just act basically decent, we are merely buying a "ticket to heaven."
I found the Reagan Doctrine fascinating, and hope you take the time to read this interesting treatise on a touchy subject. :)
http://www.skeptictank.org/isaac.htm
Day 12 of 100 Unfortunate Days
Everyone thinks the anti-Christ is the devil, but it's not. It's a person just like you or me. Then the anti-Christ could tell you that if you do not go to church and follow him, you will go to hell. Or maybe he is right and IF you go to church you are following not the teachings of God, but of Satan. Satan is the father of lies, right? How the hell are we supposed to know who is lying
February 12, 2012
Now I'm Self-Conscious...
Christians have always made me feel uncomfortable. Or anyone who follows a religion with unwavering belief.
How can you believe in something you cannot see, feel, or touch?
And maybe uncomfortable is the wrong word.
Although I don't think the way I feel is inadequate--it is close. Maybe I feel less-than-good. And I'm not exactly sure why.
It could be because they have that unwavering belief in God--and if you read my last post (below)--that is something I do not have.
Speaking about my last post...
I re-read it.
And then I re-read the comments.
I think a few Christians commented. And a few non-Christians too. I have to say these comments, along with conversations that I had with friends and family concerning God and this post, came closer to making me feel there is a God than anything I have ever read, studied or experienced in church.
Someone reached out a hand in friendship, another privately emailed me and said they understood. Others reinforced friendships I was already proud to have.
I asked for a sign in my last post--an undeniable signal from the Big Guy himself. This is the first time I can say their was not only a sign--but a shiny banner repeatedly putting itself in my field of vision.
Yikes.
Does this make me a Christian? Or a person with an unwavering belief?
Not yet. Which is good because I feel a bit self-conscious even writing this post because Christians and people of unwavering belief make me feel uncomfortable. But I have to be honest...
It kinda feels neat thinking that for a change I could be headed in that direction...
Day 23 of 100 Unfortunate Days below. One part of a journey...
Day 23
Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother's special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard…all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed. As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground. A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. "Go home." it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.
I
How can you believe in something you cannot see, feel, or touch?
And maybe uncomfortable is the wrong word.
Although I don't think the way I feel is inadequate--it is close. Maybe I feel less-than-good. And I'm not exactly sure why.
It could be because they have that unwavering belief in God--and if you read my last post (below)--that is something I do not have.
Speaking about my last post...
I re-read it.
And then I re-read the comments.
I think a few Christians commented. And a few non-Christians too. I have to say these comments, along with conversations that I had with friends and family concerning God and this post, came closer to making me feel there is a God than anything I have ever read, studied or experienced in church.
Someone reached out a hand in friendship, another privately emailed me and said they understood. Others reinforced friendships I was already proud to have.
I asked for a sign in my last post--an undeniable signal from the Big Guy himself. This is the first time I can say their was not only a sign--but a shiny banner repeatedly putting itself in my field of vision.
Yikes.
Does this make me a Christian? Or a person with an unwavering belief?
Not yet. Which is good because I feel a bit self-conscious even writing this post because Christians and people of unwavering belief make me feel uncomfortable. But I have to be honest...
It kinda feels neat thinking that for a change I could be headed in that direction...
Day 23 of 100 Unfortunate Days below. One part of a journey...
Day 23
Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother's special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard…all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed. As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground. A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. "Go home." it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.
I
Now I'm Self-Concious...
Christians have always made me feel uncomfortable. Or anyone who follows a religion with unwavering belief.
How can you believe in something you cannot see, feel, or touch?
And maybe uncomfortable is the wrong word.
Although I don't think the way I feel is inadequate--it is close. Maybe I feel less-than-good. And I'm not exactly sure why.
It could be because they have that unwavering belief in God--and if you read my last post (below)--that is something I do not have.
Speaking about my last post...
I re-read it.
And then I re-read the comments.
I think a few Christians commented. And a few non-Christians too. I have to say these comments, along with conversations that I had with friends and family concerning God and this post, came closer to making me feel there is a God than anything I have ever read, studies or experienced in church.
Someone reached out a hand in friendship, another privately emailed me and said they understood. Others reinforced friendships I was already proud to have.
I asked for a sign in my last post--an undeniable signal from the Big Guy himself. This is the first time I can say their was not only a sign--but a shiny banner repeatedly putting itself in my field of vision.
Yikes.
Does this make me a Christian? Or a person with an unwavering belief?
Not yet. Which is good because I feel a bit self-conscious even writing this post because Christians and people of unwavering belief make me feel uncomfortable. But I have to be honest...
It kinda feels neat thinking that for a change I could be headed in that direction...
Day 23 of 100 Unfortunate Days below. One part of a journey...
Day 23
Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother's special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard…all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed. As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground. A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. "Go home." it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.
I
How can you believe in something you cannot see, feel, or touch?
And maybe uncomfortable is the wrong word.
Although I don't think the way I feel is inadequate--it is close. Maybe I feel less-than-good. And I'm not exactly sure why.
It could be because they have that unwavering belief in God--and if you read my last post (below)--that is something I do not have.
Speaking about my last post...
I re-read it.
And then I re-read the comments.
I think a few Christians commented. And a few non-Christians too. I have to say these comments, along with conversations that I had with friends and family concerning God and this post, came closer to making me feel there is a God than anything I have ever read, studies or experienced in church.
Someone reached out a hand in friendship, another privately emailed me and said they understood. Others reinforced friendships I was already proud to have.
I asked for a sign in my last post--an undeniable signal from the Big Guy himself. This is the first time I can say their was not only a sign--but a shiny banner repeatedly putting itself in my field of vision.
Yikes.
Does this make me a Christian? Or a person with an unwavering belief?
Not yet. Which is good because I feel a bit self-conscious even writing this post because Christians and people of unwavering belief make me feel uncomfortable. But I have to be honest...
It kinda feels neat thinking that for a change I could be headed in that direction...
Day 23 of 100 Unfortunate Days below. One part of a journey...
Day 23
Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother's special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard…all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed. As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground. A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. "Go home." it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.
I
January 30, 2012
Do I Believe in God?
I want to believe in God--I swear I do.
But wanting and actually believing are two completely different animals.
I believe in fits and starts. I go through phases where I pray and promise everything from the perfect prayer life to never using the Lord's name in vain if the turbulence in the plane would cease and we would land safely. On the other side of the altar (coin), I condemn the entire notion of a god to worship, feeling it is a way to keep people submissive and genuflecting.
Then there is a third mindset that does not allow me to feel anything but contempt for a god that would allow his only son's death, even if it was for the salvation of an eternity of souls. He's the ruler of everything! For #$% sake's he could have thought of another way.
Many times I don't like him very much--or the idea of him...or her. Maybe it was a lack of proper Sunday schooling, but I was always taught that prayer could help just about anything. I have never found that to be the case. (Although my plane rides HAVE all ended safely...)
God allows or disallows all things. Why, why, why would he allow hunger, war, disease, murder, or any number of other pains and tribulations?
I am supposed to swear my love and faith to an entity that responds with resounding silences to my conversations and beseechings.
My questions are nothing new--but they never leave me.
I read the Screwtape Letters--sometimes a few times in a year--hoping to glean a shining new grain of faith from Christian scholar C. S. Lewis. I feel energized and renewed--for a day or two.
http://www.amazon.com/Screwtape-Letters-C-S-Lewis/dp/0060652934
I want a sign. A glowing and shining light with a voice in my head--or out loud--telling me that indeed this is truly GOD.
I will probably keep doubting and waiting. And hoping.
Day 57 from 100 Unfortunate Days
Every single basement has a dark corner or room no one likes. Maybe the whole basement is dark and scary. Spirits collect in dark and cluttered spaces. They hide and wait for you because they are stuck. Some people can see them. Some people see the long thin black wispy figures with arms ten feet long that unfold as they slowly reach for you in the dark because you have to go down there to get something or fix a light bulb or retrieve a screwdriver. Part of you revs up and moves really quickly to get out of there because you know if you wait long enough and the arms fully unfold, they can touch you and then part of you belongs in the black corner in the basement. Then it will be very hard to be normal again. You will wake up in the middle of the night, and you won't be able to get back to sleep because you will worry about all the things you have done wrong and how you are hurting people. You can't get this out of your mind now and you think that maybe if you count and envision each number in your head as you say it in your mind; you can block some of the bad thoughts. Or maybe you can pray—say the Lord's Prayer over and over and over and God will surely be there to help you because you are saying his prayer. But it doesn't help. God doesn't give a fuck when you are miserable—he doesn't care if you pray. You can pray until there is blood dripping out of your mouth and nothing will change. God is an asshole that way. Even a relatively rotten person will assist you if you are begging for help. But your thoughts will just revolve through your mind over and over until you want to take a gun like the lead in Fight Club and shoot them out of your head. Maybe someday you will, but for now, you are trying to figure why God is such a jerk-off and you have to live like this. You wonder why you feel forsaken—well it's probably because you have been forsaken and you don't know how to live in that state. Because when you are a kid somebody probably told you everything would be all right, and now you realize they lied. So you keep lying to yourself, telling yourself it's not such a big deal, but actually it is. Because now the dark corners in your basement have started to get darker. And bigger. The arms get longer and longer and pretty soon there won't be anywhere you can go where they can't touch you. So you start to drink or take pills or do some other kind of drug so you can't tell when you get touched. But now the problem is you get touched all the time, but you don't know it. At least now you don't care.
But wanting and actually believing are two completely different animals.
I believe in fits and starts. I go through phases where I pray and promise everything from the perfect prayer life to never using the Lord's name in vain if the turbulence in the plane would cease and we would land safely. On the other side of the altar (coin), I condemn the entire notion of a god to worship, feeling it is a way to keep people submissive and genuflecting.
Then there is a third mindset that does not allow me to feel anything but contempt for a god that would allow his only son's death, even if it was for the salvation of an eternity of souls. He's the ruler of everything! For #$% sake's he could have thought of another way.
Many times I don't like him very much--or the idea of him...or her. Maybe it was a lack of proper Sunday schooling, but I was always taught that prayer could help just about anything. I have never found that to be the case. (Although my plane rides HAVE all ended safely...)
God allows or disallows all things. Why, why, why would he allow hunger, war, disease, murder, or any number of other pains and tribulations?
I am supposed to swear my love and faith to an entity that responds with resounding silences to my conversations and beseechings.
My questions are nothing new--but they never leave me.
I read the Screwtape Letters--sometimes a few times in a year--hoping to glean a shining new grain of faith from Christian scholar C. S. Lewis. I feel energized and renewed--for a day or two.
http://www.amazon.com/Screwtape-Letters-C-S-Lewis/dp/0060652934
I want a sign. A glowing and shining light with a voice in my head--or out loud--telling me that indeed this is truly GOD.
I will probably keep doubting and waiting. And hoping.
Day 57 from 100 Unfortunate Days
Every single basement has a dark corner or room no one likes. Maybe the whole basement is dark and scary. Spirits collect in dark and cluttered spaces. They hide and wait for you because they are stuck. Some people can see them. Some people see the long thin black wispy figures with arms ten feet long that unfold as they slowly reach for you in the dark because you have to go down there to get something or fix a light bulb or retrieve a screwdriver. Part of you revs up and moves really quickly to get out of there because you know if you wait long enough and the arms fully unfold, they can touch you and then part of you belongs in the black corner in the basement. Then it will be very hard to be normal again. You will wake up in the middle of the night, and you won't be able to get back to sleep because you will worry about all the things you have done wrong and how you are hurting people. You can't get this out of your mind now and you think that maybe if you count and envision each number in your head as you say it in your mind; you can block some of the bad thoughts. Or maybe you can pray—say the Lord's Prayer over and over and over and God will surely be there to help you because you are saying his prayer. But it doesn't help. God doesn't give a fuck when you are miserable—he doesn't care if you pray. You can pray until there is blood dripping out of your mouth and nothing will change. God is an asshole that way. Even a relatively rotten person will assist you if you are begging for help. But your thoughts will just revolve through your mind over and over until you want to take a gun like the lead in Fight Club and shoot them out of your head. Maybe someday you will, but for now, you are trying to figure why God is such a jerk-off and you have to live like this. You wonder why you feel forsaken—well it's probably because you have been forsaken and you don't know how to live in that state. Because when you are a kid somebody probably told you everything would be all right, and now you realize they lied. So you keep lying to yourself, telling yourself it's not such a big deal, but actually it is. Because now the dark corners in your basement have started to get darker. And bigger. The arms get longer and longer and pretty soon there won't be anywhere you can go where they can't touch you. So you start to drink or take pills or do some other kind of drug so you can't tell when you get touched. But now the problem is you get touched all the time, but you don't know it. At least now you don't care.
January 25, 2012
Tim Burton, Edgar Allen Poe, Edward Gorey and MoMA
Tim Burton is known for his movies; Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and more recently Alice in Wonderland (the ninth highest grossing film ever made) and Sweeney Todd. And rightfully so. They are gorgeously dark, child-like yet demented, and touched with a poignancy usually not felt in horror and fantasy.
Two years ago I was introduced to his art and writing at an exhibition at MoMA in NYC. Tim Burton is an incredibly prolific artist, and I walked through rooms of sketches, paintings, sculptures, puppets, costumes and other ephemera. Strolling through the lovely outdoor patio of the museum I noticed two whimsical topiaries from Edward Scissorhands. On display were those terrible eyes that popped out of Large Marge's face in that memorable scene from Pee Wee's big adventure. The original sketches of his first ideas from Edward Scissorhands were situated near a child's dollhouse where each of the rooms contained a grisly murder scene.
For admission to the black-lighted carnival area, one entered into the mouth of a toothy monster, and through a long black and white striped hallway dotted with video monitors showing Stain Boy, a character from Burton's book The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories. This book contains stories and poems sometimes reminiscent of the tales of Edward Gorey. Find his book here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/0688156819/ref=rdr_ext_tmb
There was even a blotter from his desk filled with doodles. It was truly awesome.
There is a sweet and needy feel to his work, and one wonders if he is sad, manic, brilliant, or mad. Possibly a combination. One of his early films is called Vincent, about a young man who is captivated by Vincent Price, much like Tim Burton. He is also influenced by the works of Poe. The dark, swirling, and moody images of his work seems to somehow echo Poe's elegant words. I feel if Masque of the Red Death were made into a film directed by Burton we would witness some of the most stunning imagery ever produced.
Read Poe's startling story here:
http://www.poemuseum.org/works-masque.php
Oh, how I wish this display would come back to NYC. But I don't think this will happen anytime soon--Burton has chosen to bring his display to Paris at Cinematheque from April 7 to August 5, 2012. Lucky Paris.
Dark Shadows, featuring Johnny Depp as vampire Barnabas Collins is set to release May 11, 2012.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1077368/
Two years ago I was introduced to his art and writing at an exhibition at MoMA in NYC. Tim Burton is an incredibly prolific artist, and I walked through rooms of sketches, paintings, sculptures, puppets, costumes and other ephemera. Strolling through the lovely outdoor patio of the museum I noticed two whimsical topiaries from Edward Scissorhands. On display were those terrible eyes that popped out of Large Marge's face in that memorable scene from Pee Wee's big adventure. The original sketches of his first ideas from Edward Scissorhands were situated near a child's dollhouse where each of the rooms contained a grisly murder scene.
For admission to the black-lighted carnival area, one entered into the mouth of a toothy monster, and through a long black and white striped hallway dotted with video monitors showing Stain Boy, a character from Burton's book The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories. This book contains stories and poems sometimes reminiscent of the tales of Edward Gorey. Find his book here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/0688156819/ref=rdr_ext_tmb
There was even a blotter from his desk filled with doodles. It was truly awesome.
There is a sweet and needy feel to his work, and one wonders if he is sad, manic, brilliant, or mad. Possibly a combination. One of his early films is called Vincent, about a young man who is captivated by Vincent Price, much like Tim Burton. He is also influenced by the works of Poe. The dark, swirling, and moody images of his work seems to somehow echo Poe's elegant words. I feel if Masque of the Red Death were made into a film directed by Burton we would witness some of the most stunning imagery ever produced.
Read Poe's startling story here:
http://www.poemuseum.org/works-masque.php
Oh, how I wish this display would come back to NYC. But I don't think this will happen anytime soon--Burton has chosen to bring his display to Paris at Cinematheque from April 7 to August 5, 2012. Lucky Paris.
Dark Shadows, featuring Johnny Depp as vampire Barnabas Collins is set to release May 11, 2012.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1077368/
January 22, 2012
Do You Believe in Possession? A True Story When I was in ...
Do You Believe in Possession? A True Story When I was in tenth grade my best friend went to Portugal for a month during the summer. Her health had been slightly off, so I was surprised her family was taking her on such a long trip.
When she came home she had on a new gold necklace with a locket and a bracelet with some charms on it. When I asked her what was in the locket, she told me she would rather not talk about it. Eventually she talked.
She told me a priest in Portugal gave them to her after her exorcism to keep away the devils. He told her she had been possessed by several demons, and she should wear the charms at all times, and never open the locket.
She told me her relatives kept her in her room for several days and nights, and she could hear chanting in a language she could not understand through the walls. She said the night before the exorcism she could understand.
The next day her family brought her to a cave, and the priest began a prayer and that is the last thing she remembers. They told her she fell backwards like she had fainted, and her head was bent so far back they thought she would break her neck. Her stomach began to rise and fall, and when her eyes fluttered like she might be waking, all four people there could not lift her.
They told her the priest said one of the spirits haunting her was someone her own father had harmed in a business transaction, and this was its way of doing him harm.
On a rainy, boring Saturday as we sat in her room she decided to open the locket.
Inside was a tiny ladder, a lightning bolt, some white cloth, dust or dirt, a cross, and several other items I cannot remember. She poured them out in her palm, and as she was examining them she shook her hand and remarked they had burned her. She told me they left red marks on her hand but would not show me. I was scared and went home.
I remember her thinking the devil was after her, and her boyfriend and I would tease her and try and scare her.
She got sicker and sicker from an ailment that was never quite figured out, and eventually passed away from what the doctors said was Wilson's disease.
A few years after that her boyfriend fell off of a second story balcony and broke his neck. He has been in a wheelchair ever since.
I called her in the hospital in NYC a few days before she died and her mother would not let me speak to her on the phone, but I heard her voice in the background. Her once friendly, happy voice sounded like knives being dragged down a chalkboard, and I will never forget it.
Did she die from a disease? Was she possessed? Did the items in her charm actually burn her hand? The timing of all the events was amazing, and I am still scared of the devil probably more than I should be. There is a part of me that feels I should not be writing this, that I should leave it alone. Do you think I should be scared?
Someone who read my book 100 Unfortunate Days said talent is usually called a gift from God, she said my book might be the one case it is not true. One reviewer wrote she could not sleep for nights after reading it and had to stop. Here is that review:
"I began reading 100 Unfortunate Days over a month ago. I read more than half, late at night, in one sitting. I felt an immediate kinship with the protagonist. I asked myself, had Crowe inexplicably been inside my head extracting images? Or had the worms squished their way inside, muddying up my brain? I had an uneasy feeling that the worms were already there, dormant, and 100 Unfortunate Days disturbed them. That night I had a dream or a vision of an old ghost-man smiling at me, on the verge of a laugh, at the foot of my bed. I didn't read any more for 7 days. Then i read a bit past day 75. This time i was visited by a demon troll who tried to take away my breath as i slept. I didn't read again for 14 days. I finished it today and I agree with Crowe, there should be a disclaimer before Day 1 because I am fairly certain that parts of this book may have been infected by the devil and in turn may contaminate you. That's balderdash, right? Maybe. If you are a skeptic and take this work as pure fiction from a very talented, highly imaginative authoress, go ahead and turn the page...and wish me luck tonight while i sleep..."
Maybe I will add that disclaimer...
I don't want to believe in the devil, but I may have to say that I do...
Protection from St. Michael--you may need it after this post:
http://www.traditioninaction.org/religious/b009rpMichael.htm
When she came home she had on a new gold necklace with a locket and a bracelet with some charms on it. When I asked her what was in the locket, she told me she would rather not talk about it. Eventually she talked.
She told me a priest in Portugal gave them to her after her exorcism to keep away the devils. He told her she had been possessed by several demons, and she should wear the charms at all times, and never open the locket.
She told me her relatives kept her in her room for several days and nights, and she could hear chanting in a language she could not understand through the walls. She said the night before the exorcism she could understand.
The next day her family brought her to a cave, and the priest began a prayer and that is the last thing she remembers. They told her she fell backwards like she had fainted, and her head was bent so far back they thought she would break her neck. Her stomach began to rise and fall, and when her eyes fluttered like she might be waking, all four people there could not lift her.
They told her the priest said one of the spirits haunting her was someone her own father had harmed in a business transaction, and this was its way of doing him harm.
On a rainy, boring Saturday as we sat in her room she decided to open the locket.
Inside was a tiny ladder, a lightning bolt, some white cloth, dust or dirt, a cross, and several other items I cannot remember. She poured them out in her palm, and as she was examining them she shook her hand and remarked they had burned her. She told me they left red marks on her hand but would not show me. I was scared and went home.
I remember her thinking the devil was after her, and her boyfriend and I would tease her and try and scare her.
She got sicker and sicker from an ailment that was never quite figured out, and eventually passed away from what the doctors said was Wilson's disease.
A few years after that her boyfriend fell off of a second story balcony and broke his neck. He has been in a wheelchair ever since.
I called her in the hospital in NYC a few days before she died and her mother would not let me speak to her on the phone, but I heard her voice in the background. Her once friendly, happy voice sounded like knives being dragged down a chalkboard, and I will never forget it.
Did she die from a disease? Was she possessed? Did the items in her charm actually burn her hand? The timing of all the events was amazing, and I am still scared of the devil probably more than I should be. There is a part of me that feels I should not be writing this, that I should leave it alone. Do you think I should be scared?
Someone who read my book 100 Unfortunate Days said talent is usually called a gift from God, she said my book might be the one case it is not true. One reviewer wrote she could not sleep for nights after reading it and had to stop. Here is that review:
"I began reading 100 Unfortunate Days over a month ago. I read more than half, late at night, in one sitting. I felt an immediate kinship with the protagonist. I asked myself, had Crowe inexplicably been inside my head extracting images? Or had the worms squished their way inside, muddying up my brain? I had an uneasy feeling that the worms were already there, dormant, and 100 Unfortunate Days disturbed them. That night I had a dream or a vision of an old ghost-man smiling at me, on the verge of a laugh, at the foot of my bed. I didn't read any more for 7 days. Then i read a bit past day 75. This time i was visited by a demon troll who tried to take away my breath as i slept. I didn't read again for 14 days. I finished it today and I agree with Crowe, there should be a disclaimer before Day 1 because I am fairly certain that parts of this book may have been infected by the devil and in turn may contaminate you. That's balderdash, right? Maybe. If you are a skeptic and take this work as pure fiction from a very talented, highly imaginative authoress, go ahead and turn the page...and wish me luck tonight while i sleep..."
Maybe I will add that disclaimer...
I don't want to believe in the devil, but I may have to say that I do...
Protection from St. Michael--you may need it after this post:
http://www.traditioninaction.org/religious/b009rpMichael.htm
January 20, 2012
Please Welcome Joshua Corey Mays!
Today I am pleased to welcome Joshua Corey Mays to As the Crowe Flies. I did not post his picture because I did not want to be responsible for all the women chasing him after this :)
Hope you enjoy his interview.
*Please tell me about your book.
My book is about a boy who discovers a world hidden from our own. It's a world where our myths have existed for thousands of years without the flow of time. Space and time work differently here, making the protagonist's journey more interesting.
*When and why did you start writing?
I started writing because it's something that has always interested me. I've had an interest in reading for as long as I can remember, so I think there was always going to be that natural "next step". At some point you get tired of saying to yourself "I wish this would have happened like this," or "I would have changed that."
*What inspires you?Things I can't understand or explain, and any work I feel I could have done better. Unsolved mysteries and the Time life books, "Mysteries of the unknown" shaped me interests early on. I moved from ghosts and aliens to the occult, where I read everything I could that I felt had any amount of validity to it. When it comes to things I feel I could do better, I can't tell you how many times I've been watching a really bad B movie, or reading an awful book and thought, "Interesting premise, too bad the creator didn't do this, or that!" From there the ideas takes shape and morphs into a completely different creature. Maybe it's better, maybe its not, but either way, I feel inspired. My first book, Terra Incognita: The Abyss, came about because I wanted to write a book, but I didn't really want to do anything very challenging. A problem I've had my entire life, is that I over complicate everything. I would have started writing years ago, if I could have just stopped myself from going so in depth with every idea. There was something alluring to the idea of coming up with a simple premise (a boy gets drawn into a new, mysterious world) and running with it. I know it sounds like a cop out, and it is.*Are you working on anything now?
Yes, I'm currently working on a vampire novel. I'm only about 10 pages in, so I doubt it will be done anytime soon.
*Is there anything you do NOT like about being a writer?
The more I write, the more I want to write, and the less time I have to do other things. But that's not so bad. One thing I hate about being an indie author is marketing. I can't stand it, and honestly wish I could get along without it.
*What do you think of the ebook revolution?
It's a natural progression of technology. It was bound to happen eventually.
*How do you see your writing career in five years?
At this rate, I don't know. There are good days and bad days. Sometimes I feel like I'm on the way up, and then I realize that the more people I get to read my work, the more bad reviews I'm gonna get. Time will tell if I'm going to be anything.
*Is there anything you will NOT write about?
Maybe not a subject, but there are genres I won't write. I don't think romance will fit into my schedule anytime soon.
*In what genre do you prefer to write? To read?
I've always been fond of horror so I tend to but a horror spin on everything I do. My fantasy series is "dark fantasy" because I tend to like creepy dark things that lurk in the shadows.
I really want to be considered a prolific writer, so I'm gonna tackle as much as I possibly can. I think it's important that all writers break away from their safety zones, and try something new and different.
*Please tell us about any ups and downs in your writing career so far.
So far, other than one bad review, it's been all ups! I'm still a new author because my book has only been published a few months, and I must say, every sale I still a milestone at this point. Sad, I know, but it cheers me up every day.
*Do you have any suggestions to people who might be considering writing as a career?
Don't quit your day job, and hire an editor. This is a lot of fun, and the possibility to make money is definitely here, but it could be a long hard road to the top, and you are going to need money to fund every book cover and editor you get.
As far as an editor goes, hire one! It was the best thing I've ever done, and it's important that your stuff looks professional.
*Anything else you want to add?
Buy my books! Oh, and add me on facebook and tell me if you liked them or not!Find Joshua's books here:
http://www.amazon.com/Terra-Incognita-The-Abyss-ebook/dp/B0051UN7VS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1327006816&sr=8-1&fb_source=messagehttp://www.amazon.com/Terra-Incognita-The-Other-ebook/dp/B006YZQCI4/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1327006836&sr=8-4&fb_source=message
Hope you enjoy his interview.
*Please tell me about your book.
My book is about a boy who discovers a world hidden from our own. It's a world where our myths have existed for thousands of years without the flow of time. Space and time work differently here, making the protagonist's journey more interesting.
*When and why did you start writing?
I started writing because it's something that has always interested me. I've had an interest in reading for as long as I can remember, so I think there was always going to be that natural "next step". At some point you get tired of saying to yourself "I wish this would have happened like this," or "I would have changed that."
*What inspires you?Things I can't understand or explain, and any work I feel I could have done better. Unsolved mysteries and the Time life books, "Mysteries of the unknown" shaped me interests early on. I moved from ghosts and aliens to the occult, where I read everything I could that I felt had any amount of validity to it. When it comes to things I feel I could do better, I can't tell you how many times I've been watching a really bad B movie, or reading an awful book and thought, "Interesting premise, too bad the creator didn't do this, or that!" From there the ideas takes shape and morphs into a completely different creature. Maybe it's better, maybe its not, but either way, I feel inspired. My first book, Terra Incognita: The Abyss, came about because I wanted to write a book, but I didn't really want to do anything very challenging. A problem I've had my entire life, is that I over complicate everything. I would have started writing years ago, if I could have just stopped myself from going so in depth with every idea. There was something alluring to the idea of coming up with a simple premise (a boy gets drawn into a new, mysterious world) and running with it. I know it sounds like a cop out, and it is.*Are you working on anything now?
Yes, I'm currently working on a vampire novel. I'm only about 10 pages in, so I doubt it will be done anytime soon.
*Is there anything you do NOT like about being a writer?
The more I write, the more I want to write, and the less time I have to do other things. But that's not so bad. One thing I hate about being an indie author is marketing. I can't stand it, and honestly wish I could get along without it.
*What do you think of the ebook revolution?
It's a natural progression of technology. It was bound to happen eventually.
*How do you see your writing career in five years?
At this rate, I don't know. There are good days and bad days. Sometimes I feel like I'm on the way up, and then I realize that the more people I get to read my work, the more bad reviews I'm gonna get. Time will tell if I'm going to be anything.
*Is there anything you will NOT write about?
Maybe not a subject, but there are genres I won't write. I don't think romance will fit into my schedule anytime soon.
*In what genre do you prefer to write? To read?
I've always been fond of horror so I tend to but a horror spin on everything I do. My fantasy series is "dark fantasy" because I tend to like creepy dark things that lurk in the shadows.
I really want to be considered a prolific writer, so I'm gonna tackle as much as I possibly can. I think it's important that all writers break away from their safety zones, and try something new and different.
*Please tell us about any ups and downs in your writing career so far.
So far, other than one bad review, it's been all ups! I'm still a new author because my book has only been published a few months, and I must say, every sale I still a milestone at this point. Sad, I know, but it cheers me up every day.
*Do you have any suggestions to people who might be considering writing as a career?
Don't quit your day job, and hire an editor. This is a lot of fun, and the possibility to make money is definitely here, but it could be a long hard road to the top, and you are going to need money to fund every book cover and editor you get.
As far as an editor goes, hire one! It was the best thing I've ever done, and it's important that your stuff looks professional.
*Anything else you want to add?
Buy my books! Oh, and add me on facebook and tell me if you liked them or not!Find Joshua's books here:
http://www.amazon.com/Terra-Incognita-The-Abyss-ebook/dp/B0051UN7VS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1327006816&sr=8-1&fb_source=messagehttp://www.amazon.com/Terra-Incognita-The-Other-ebook/dp/B006YZQCI4/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1327006836&sr=8-4&fb_source=message
January 15, 2012
Do You Believe in Possession? A True Story
When I was in tenth grade my best friend went to Portugal for a month during the summer. Her health had been slightly off, so I was surprised her family was taking her on such a long trip.
When she came home she had on a new gold necklace with a locket and a bracelet with some charms on it. When I asked her what was in the locket, she told me she would rather not talk about it. Eventually she talked.
She told me a priest in Portugal gave them to her after her exorcism to keep away the devils. He told her she had been possessed by several demons, and she should wear the charms at all times, and never open the locket.
She told me her relatives kept her in her room for several days and nights, and she could hear chanting in a language she could not understand through the walls. She said the night before the exorcism she could understand.
The next day her family brought her to a cave, and the priest began a prayer and that is the last thing she remembers. They told her she fell backwards like she had fainted, and her head was bent so far back they thought she would break her neck. Her stomach began to rise and fall, and when her eyes fluttered like she might be waking, all four people there could not lift her.
They told her the priest said one of the spirits haunting her was someone her own father had harmed in a business transaction, and this was its way of doing him harm.
On a rainy, boring Saturday as we sat in her room she decided to open the locket.
Inside was a tiny ladder, a lightning bolt, some white cloth, dust or dirt, a cross, and several other items I cannot remember. She poured them out in her palm, and as she was examining them she shook her hand and remarked they had burned her. She told me they left red marks on her hand but would not show me. I was scared and went home.
I remember her thinking the devil was after her, and her boyfriend and I would tease her and try and scare her.
She got sicker and sicker from an ailment that was never quite figured out, and eventually passed away from what the doctors said was Wilson's disease.
A few years after that her boyfriend fell off of a second story balcony and broke his neck. He has been in a wheelchair ever since.
I called her in the hospital in NYC a few days before she died and her mother would not let me speak to her on the phone, but I heard her voice in the background. Her once friendly, happy voice sounded like knives being dragged down a chalkboard, and I will never forget it.
Did she die from a disease? Was she possessed? Did the items in her charm actually burn her hand? The timing of all the events was amazing, and I am still scared of the devil probably more than I should be. There is a part of me that feels I should not be writing this, that I should leave it alone. Do you think I should be scared?
Someone who read my book 100 Unfortunate Days said talent is usually called a gift from God, she said my book might be the one case it is not true. One reviewer wrote she could not sleep for nights after reading it and had to stop. Here is that review:
"I began reading 100 Unfortunate Days over a month ago. I read more than half, late at night, in one sitting. I felt an immediate kinship with the protagonist. I asked myself, had Crowe inexplicably been inside my head extracting images? Or had the worms squished their way inside, muddying up my brain? I had an uneasy feeling that the worms were already there, dormant, and 100 Unfortunate Days disturbed them. That night I had a dream or a vision of an old ghost-man smiling at me, on the verge of a laugh, at the foot of my bed. I didn't read any more for 7 days. Then i read a bit past day 75. This time i was visited by a demon troll who tried to take away my breath as i slept. I didn't read again for 14 days. I finished it today and I agree with Crowe, there should be a disclaimer before Day 1 because I am fairly certain that parts of this book may have been infected by the devil and in turn may contaminate you. That's balderdash, right? Maybe. If you are a skeptic and take this work as pure fiction from a very talented, highly imaginative authoress, go ahead and turn the page...and wish me luck tonight while i sleep..."
Maybe I will add that disclaimer...
I don't want to believe in the devil, but I may have to say that I do...
When she came home she had on a new gold necklace with a locket and a bracelet with some charms on it. When I asked her what was in the locket, she told me she would rather not talk about it. Eventually she talked.
She told me a priest in Portugal gave them to her after her exorcism to keep away the devils. He told her she had been possessed by several demons, and she should wear the charms at all times, and never open the locket.
She told me her relatives kept her in her room for several days and nights, and she could hear chanting in a language she could not understand through the walls. She said the night before the exorcism she could understand.
The next day her family brought her to a cave, and the priest began a prayer and that is the last thing she remembers. They told her she fell backwards like she had fainted, and her head was bent so far back they thought she would break her neck. Her stomach began to rise and fall, and when her eyes fluttered like she might be waking, all four people there could not lift her.
They told her the priest said one of the spirits haunting her was someone her own father had harmed in a business transaction, and this was its way of doing him harm.
On a rainy, boring Saturday as we sat in her room she decided to open the locket.
Inside was a tiny ladder, a lightning bolt, some white cloth, dust or dirt, a cross, and several other items I cannot remember. She poured them out in her palm, and as she was examining them she shook her hand and remarked they had burned her. She told me they left red marks on her hand but would not show me. I was scared and went home.
I remember her thinking the devil was after her, and her boyfriend and I would tease her and try and scare her.
She got sicker and sicker from an ailment that was never quite figured out, and eventually passed away from what the doctors said was Wilson's disease.
A few years after that her boyfriend fell off of a second story balcony and broke his neck. He has been in a wheelchair ever since.
I called her in the hospital in NYC a few days before she died and her mother would not let me speak to her on the phone, but I heard her voice in the background. Her once friendly, happy voice sounded like knives being dragged down a chalkboard, and I will never forget it.
Did she die from a disease? Was she possessed? Did the items in her charm actually burn her hand? The timing of all the events was amazing, and I am still scared of the devil probably more than I should be. There is a part of me that feels I should not be writing this, that I should leave it alone. Do you think I should be scared?
Someone who read my book 100 Unfortunate Days said talent is usually called a gift from God, she said my book might be the one case it is not true. One reviewer wrote she could not sleep for nights after reading it and had to stop. Here is that review:
"I began reading 100 Unfortunate Days over a month ago. I read more than half, late at night, in one sitting. I felt an immediate kinship with the protagonist. I asked myself, had Crowe inexplicably been inside my head extracting images? Or had the worms squished their way inside, muddying up my brain? I had an uneasy feeling that the worms were already there, dormant, and 100 Unfortunate Days disturbed them. That night I had a dream or a vision of an old ghost-man smiling at me, on the verge of a laugh, at the foot of my bed. I didn't read any more for 7 days. Then i read a bit past day 75. This time i was visited by a demon troll who tried to take away my breath as i slept. I didn't read again for 14 days. I finished it today and I agree with Crowe, there should be a disclaimer before Day 1 because I am fairly certain that parts of this book may have been infected by the devil and in turn may contaminate you. That's balderdash, right? Maybe. If you are a skeptic and take this work as pure fiction from a very talented, highly imaginative authoress, go ahead and turn the page...and wish me luck tonight while i sleep..."
Maybe I will add that disclaimer...
I don't want to believe in the devil, but I may have to say that I do...
Penelope Crowe's Blog
- Penelope Crowe's profile
- 54 followers
Penelope Crowe isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
their feed.
